Chapter 25
DANI
Dexter has spent the second day of our honeymoon working away, cooped up inside, while I made the most of the weather, the time to rest and think, and the cocktails.
The massage was sheer bliss and now I’m so relaxed, I feel loose all over. Being at this beautiful resort, has me more upbeat than I expected and I’m determined to make the most of this time because I don’t know what to expect once I’m in New York, living in Dexter’s apartment, encroaching on his territory.
Him being sullen, and pretending to work all day long, makes it easy for me. I understand that he’s a businessman, and the Knights have a global empire, but still ... I would have expected him to make more time than he currently does.
Which leads me to believe he’s avoiding me.
I like that.
Because it tells me something.
He’s finding it difficult being around me, and yet he can’t seem to stay away for too long.
“I’m going to the gym,” he announces, much to my dismay, as soon as I step inside after a wonderful day. I was hoping we could talk more, have dinner and try to have the type of deep conversation we had once before.
But he sounds a little wound up. I noticed it as soon as he came over to see me getting my massage. I try not to stare at him, because he’s the sexiest I’ve ever seen him, in his workout gear. Black performance shorts, a fitted sleeveless top clinging to his body like a second skin, showing his muscle definition. He looks like a professional athlete, not a businessman. I’m aware of how hard my heart is pounding.
I’m still damp from the pool, and my coverall clings to me. Smoothing my hand through my hair, I try to appear unaffected, but I’m failing miserably. My gaze lingers over his shorts that cling to him. I try to look away but not before I catch him looking at me. No, looking through me. Like he can’t bear to meet my gaze.
“Enjoy,” I say, keeping my tone light.
His fingers flex, and he appears to hesitate. “Are we having dinner together?”
“Do you want to?”
His jaw ticks. “We don’t have to.”
I hate that he’s so hot and cold. Like an on-off switch. I hate dancing around him, not knowing where I stand. “Just go, Dexter. Go to the gym and vent your frustration.”
His expression hardens, and every muscle in that steel hard body seems to flex. If he keeps this up he might snap. “Who says I’m frustrated?”
“Tell me you’re not.”
“It’s work pressure, sweetheart. Don’t kid yourself its anything else.” He strides to the door and leaves.
It’s clear that we’re starting to grate on each other. Things started off smooth at the wedding reception, leading to tired flirtation at the honeymoon suite, and then, when I caught a glimpse of him naked, it all started to get harder.
Now it feels like he can barely tolerate me. If he wants to be cold and dismissive towards me, fine. If he needs to keep his distance. He can. This is still my honeymoon and I intend to enjoy what’s left of it.
I walk over to the refrigerator, grab a bottle of champagne, and pour myself a glass. I watch the bubbles fizz and pop as I lift the flute to my lips and take a sip. It’s delicious. Ridiculously expensive, too, I imagine.
Perfect for an indulgent evening, just for me. I should enjoy these last few days here, before I fall under Paul Knight’s radar. I shiver when I think of him being around my parents.
Pushing the thought away, I walk into the master bedroom, champagne glass and bottle in hand, and open the balcony doors. I decide to have an indulgent evening in the hot tub. It would be a shame to let this go unused. No one can see us because it’s shielded from view by lush tropical greenery. A hidden jewel offering tranquility and privacy.
I turn on the jets, and the bubbling water steams in the warm evening air. Soft lighting built into the stone lends this a cozy, intimate ambiance.
Waiting for it to fill, I call my mom. She picks up after the second ring. “Daniela, meu amor! How are you?”
Her soft and familiar voice is like warm honey flowing through my veins. I run my hand in the warm water. “I miss you M?e”
She sighs softly. “Papai went into work today, with your father-in-law.”
I don’t like the sound of her strained voice. “Why?”
“He said he would,” she replies, but there’s something off in her tone.
“And?”
She pauses a beat too long. “To see how the business runs. With the Knight alliance, we can make things better.” She’s trying to be sound happy, but I sense the truth. Her pretend reassurance doesn’t calm the unease swirling in my gut.
Paul Knight is a snake. A manipulator. A spy. But I force myself to breathe, to focus. This is an alliance. Maybe he’s in S?o Paulo to assess, oversee and strategize. To see how he can get oversight on the business while he’s in New York.
My father should be able to hold his own. He’s a smart man, if a little older and frailer. He built a multi-billion-dollar company from the ground up, piece by piece. The world has changed, technology, communications, marketing, but he’s still the man who made it all happen.
We’ll be okay. We have to be.
“I’m sure he’s just trying to get to know what he invested in, M?e,” I tell her, hoping to reassure her in the way I can’t reassure myself.
“How are the newlyweds? Enjoying yourselves?” My mother teases.
I press my lips together. “M?e, you know this is an arranged marriage. Dexter has been working most of the time.”
“Working?” she shrieks.
“It’s an alliance, M?e.”
“I saw the two of you, Daniela.” I freeze, the flute stills in my hand. “I saw the way he looked at you, and the way you looked at him.”
The memory comes flooding back, of Dexter’s mouth on mine, and his hands on me. But nothing has changed. This is still a deal and we are still strangers in an arranged marriage. Even if I’ve seen him naked, and we’ve had one night snuggled up in bed.
Last night, I wanted him. Maybe the recent events overwhelmed me and I let down my guard. But Dexter decided to sleep in a separate room.
“Oh, M?e,” I give a nervous laugh. “We’re just playing a part,” I whisper, as if the walls have ears.
“I know what I see, filha.”
“You see what you want to see, M?e.”
“I see that you both are good together.”
I won’t win with my mother. She chooses to see what she wants to happen. “I have to go, your father needs me.”
“I love you, M?e. Tell Papai I love him.”
I hang up and think of my mom’s words. Her deeper dreams and wishes. What she saw when we kissed, was for show. It doesn’t exist for real. Dexter has put walls back up again, and he’s picked work over me.
Now, he’s disappeared to the gym.
It’s like the guy can’t put enough distance between us. I hope he stays there for hours, because I intend to enjoy my evening alone. I try Raquel’s number but she still doesn’t answer.
It’s not surprising. She told me she could only come for the wedding day and we barely caught up. She’s always busy with work and her life is hectic, but hopefully I can see more of her when I move to New York. I’ll go and visit as soon as I’ve settled in.
Settled in.
The thought of living with Dexter, of coexisting under the same roof, makes my pulse race. I try to be present, to enjoy this beautiful view, and this warm bubbling water. Setting the ice bucket on the ledge, with my glass of champagne, I slip into the hot tub, eager not to dwell on my worries.
As soon as my body sinks into the warm water, I feel instantly calmer, as if as all my tension soothes away. I rest my back against one of the powerful jets which pulse beneath the surface, and moan with gratitude as they massage me.
But then, naturally, instinctively, my thoughts trail back to Dexter. I thought we could be friends, if nothing else, but he doesn’t even want that.
What am I supposed to do?
The tension bleeds out of me and my limbs loosen under the hot, pulsing jets. It’s better than any massage, better than any forced attempt at pretending everything’s fine.
Tomorrow is our last night here. Maybe I’ll spend all day in the hot tub instead of out at the infinity pool or in the sea. Being out there alone feels too exposed. People might wonder why Dexter’s inside while his new wife lounges outside all alone.
The last thing we need are rumors.
I set my champagne flute down and settle back into the heat. My arms are splayed out on either side, with my head tilted back, I close my eyes, and relax. It’s sublime. Peaceful. Everything I need until … the door swings wide open, as do my eyelids, and Dexter strides in. He looks hot and sweaty, his breathing labored, and his T-shirt clings to him in a way that makes me feel hotter.
Hard, defined muscles ripple beneath the fabric. Strands of dark, damp hair curl over his forehead. I can’t help but soak him all in, savoring him like I’ve savored my champagne. His is a body worked hard, with endorphins no doubt whizzing through him. The towel around his neck catches the beads of sweat trailing down his face. All I can do is gawk at him like a rockstar groupie.
I can’t even make myself look away.
I’ve only seen him in sharp designer suits or casual T-shirts and jeans. Or naked, and sprawled out like the king of the jungle. But even though he’s clothed this time, he might as well be bare, raw and unfiltered for the effect he’s having on me.
“Having fun?” His voice is surprisingly relaxed, his gaze dipping from my face to my chest, undressing me slowly.
I shouldn’t encourage him. I should keep this line between us clear, and sharp, but I’m feeling flirty and in the mood for fun. “I’m having the time of my life. You should join me.” I try to feign nonchalance as I reach for my champagne flute again and bring it to my lips.
He steps closer, into my personal space, his fingers grazing the towel draped around his neck. “Don’t mind if I do.”
My mouth fills with sand as Dexter approaches. Now he’s so close I can see the slight tent in his shorts. I sip more champagne to moisten my mouth enough to quip. To show him that I’m unaffected. “We’re on our honeymoon, darling.” But my insides are in turmoil.
His lips curl. “That, we are.”
To my utter shock, he grips the hem of his shirt and peels it off. My breath catches as he stands there. Just as I thought. This man likes the gym. He’s all carved muscle, with dustings of dark hair on his chest, and his stomach a landscape of ridges and valleys. This man was sculpted like he was born to make women’s jaws drop. When the corners of his lips curve into a lazy smile, fireworks go off in the base of my belly and I press my thighs together, trying to rein in my arousal.
“I’ll take a shower first. Wouldn’t want to get in there with a layer of dirt all over me.” He scrapes his hand across his jaw, the movement causing his bicep to flex in a way that makes my heart miss a few beats. I’m in dangerous territory, my defenses splintering like glass.
“How thoughtful of you.” I try to take a casual sip as my heart hammers in my chest.
Dark eyes, dangerous eyes, feast on me. My breasts turn heavy and I’m pretty sure he can see that I’m aroused.
His gaze dips to my bikini. “Someone’s happy to see me.” His voice is pure silk as I sink lower in the water, so that only my face is above water. “Don’t do that, sweetheart. I’m your doting husband, remember?”
“How could I forget, darling.” I stay submerged, with only my neck upwards visible.
“Wait for me.” He heads for the bathroom and I shiver. Not from cold. But because my skin is flushed, my breath is shallow, my body heated.
Everything inside me is burning. Because I want him. And if he comes back … I don’t know if I’ll have clarity of thought to stop him. I lift the glass to my lips again but set it back down without taking a sip.
I need a clear head.
I need to think carefully.
To him, this is a game.
To me, it’s about surviving the year.
Dexter will have the upper hand in New York. I’ll be in his territory. His kingdom. His world. Away from my friends, my family, everything I hold dear. I have to stay strong. Why did I stupidly ask him to join me in the hot tub?
I didn’t think he’d call my bluff.
I thought he’d still be the distant husband and turn me down, but instead, no. The man’s coming in.
It’s not long before he strides back into view, and my stomach bottoms out. Charcoal-gray lounge shorts hang low on his hips. They’re loose, but not loose enough. The fabric clings to him, outlining every sharp line of muscle, every inch of hardness.
He’s a tease.
And I am … gone.
I swallow.
He steps in, thick thighs slicing through the water, the powerful curves of his calf flexing as he sits down with slow, deliberate ease. My eyes betrayed me, moving to where his shorts cling tight, the fabric tented, and leaving nothing to the imagination. The faint scent of lemon wafts over me, crisp and clean, mingling with the humid air.
He doesn’t sit next to me. Instead, he settles at the opposite end of the tub, his muscles flexing as he leans back like he owns this moment. His gaze is dark and unreadable and when he splays his arms out on the ledge, my attention settles on his flexed biceps.
This isn’t going to be easy. “You didn’t get a glass.” I try to keep my voice neutral. “Don’t you want some champagne?”
“If I did, I’d drink from your glass.” His lips curve, and his voice dips lower. Heat coils deep in my belly. I decide to wait ten minutes. No, five. Five minutes before I tell him my skin is wrinkling, that I need to get out.
Because I already know. I do need to get out. I need to get away. I’m in dangerous waters as Dexter’s lingering gaze rakes over me. I sink lower, the water dancing just under my chin, using the bubbles to shield me.
“Good gym session?” I ask, needing to fill the silence.
“Great.” His voice is rough. “Managed to vent my frustration.”
I nod in agreement.
He snorts, shaking his head. “My father. Work. The usual shit. That kind of frustration,” he remarks pointedly.
I hesitate, then push. “Your father’s being shown around the business.”
A muscle tics in his jaw. “Yeah,” he mutters. “Wish he’d just go home.”
I don’t blame him. Paul Knight is a storm in a suit, and storms don’t leave without destroying something first.
“Must be tough for your parents,” he adds, watching me closely. “I’m sorry they have to suffer him.”
“They haven’t said anything.” I force a small smile, trying to ignore the knot tightening in my chest. But Dexter doesn’t elaborate and so far hasn’t hinted at any problems, so I feel reassured.
“Have you heard from Raquel?”
I shake my head. “No. Why?”
“Rio’s gone silent.” |
“I can’t get a hold of Raquel either.” I wonder if they’re up to something.
“They looked to be getting on that night we had drinks at the hotel,” Dexter adds.
The night we got on well.
That sneaky little espertinha. The clever little one . “I’ll have a million questions for her when I next see her.”
“I’m sure you will.”
The tension around us softens. It becomes less about us, more about the people we can’t reach. I remember the two of them in the bar that night. “You think …?” The question hangs in the air.
“I don’t know what to think,” Dexter mutters.
It’s strange, the way our lives have suddenly merged, how mine and Dexter’s lives are tangled together, and how Rio and Raquel’s might be, too.
“So,” Dexter draws my attention back to him. “Tell me, what kind of men does Daniela Oliviera usually go for?”
I tense, not liking this probing into my personal life.
But he’s my husband.
I swirl my fingers through the water. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” I say, seductively.
His smile is subtle, yet dangerous. “I would, actually.”
I roll my eyes, but my heart is hammering. “Nothing scandalous. No friends-with-benefits situations.” I give him a pointed look.
His grin fades, just slightly. “Not all of my arrangements are meaningless,” he says. “Some people want an understanding. No strings. No expectations. We are allowed pillow talk.”
I shudder, not wanting to have a visual of him in bed with another woman. “That’s not me,” I murmur.
“I gathered, given your utter revulsion at the idea.” His voice is quiet, but heavy. The steam rises around us, curling in the air, thick with something that’s not just heat. His eyes search mine. “And what about Oscar Ramos?”
I still.
Of course, he’d ask about him.
This time, I don’t hesitate. “He wanted to marry me.”
Dexter’s jaw tightens. “What the fuck?”
“When the deal with Jett fell through,” I explain, carefully, “Oscar Ramos stepped up.”
His expression darkens. “How did he know about the deal with Jett?”
I hesitate.
Because I know something he doesn’t. That my father’s business isn’t as wildly successful as the Knights think. I don’t know the extent of it, but Oscar Ramos obviously had intel.
“How, Daniela?” Dexter pushes.
I shrug. “Oscar’s practices are questionable. The way he works isn’t always above board. He has people, eyes and ears everywhere.”
“And he wanted an alliance to help your family?”
“Like the Knights did. We all want something from this alliance, don’t we?”
Dexter’s disgust is palpable. “That slimy bastard,” he growls. “He’s old enough to be your father.”
“I would never marry him.” I ground down on my teeth as bile snakes up my throat, bitter as venom. Oscar Ramos makes me shiver, but not for the reasons Dexter does. I could never entertain the idea of being married to him. While Dexter would respect our boundaries, Oscar wouldn’t.
He shifts closer to me. “So when Jett backed out, you must have been worried?”
I take a shaky breath. “It made me realize I had to do something. That’s why I flew to New York. To meet your father and to try to negotiate something better.”
His eyes search my face. “God help you if I’m supposed to be your ‘something better’.”
“You saved me, Dexter.” My voice breaks slightly. His eyes drop to my lips, his body inching even closer. I’m shivering, but I’m not cold.
“I’m glad I saved you from that fucker, and I’m glad you picked me.” His voice drops an octave lower.
Our knees are almost touching. I’m still seated, but he’s squatting in the water. “I’m glad we got married,” I whisper.
“It keeps that fucker at bay.”
We stare, eyes locked, and then I stare at his lips. And I remember how he branded me with them. I lick my lower lip, memories of his hot searing kisses come rushing back. He shifts closer to me, water trickling down his hard body as he leans towards me. His face is now merely inches from me, and his tongue swipes over my lower lip.
I exhale a breath, and then his tongue slides between my lips. It’s heady. Pure, raw desire. It was always going to happen again. It was inevitable. I just wasn’t sure that it would happen here.
On our honeymoon.
I mewl as our lips press together, his hands frame my face. His mouth on mine makes every coherent thought turn to steam. The kiss is lightning and gasoline; a hot, desperate spark that ignites everything we’ve tried to suppress.
This wasn’t supposed to happen, but it’s impossible to resist. Dexter’s hands drop to my waist and he pulls me against his hard body. A low growl rumbles in his chest as our kiss turns frenzied, more urgent, the water sloshing around us. I’m vaguely aware of warm bubbles caressing my skin, but it’s nothing compared to the feel of his hands bracketing my hips, the feel of his hardness poking my belly.
A shudder of need spikes through me, and a distant voice tells me, I should stop this.
I should. But the way he devours me sends every promise we made straight to hell.
“Dexter …” I manage to gasp when he momentarily frees my lips, but he doesn’t let me finish. He cups the back of my neck and claims my mouth again, even harder. My protest evaporates into a whimper as I run my hands over his broad, muscular shoulders. His skin is slick from the water, hot to touch, and I can’t help but dig my nails in slightly. He hisses at the slight pain or pleasure. I’m not sure which, and then I’m lifted clear off my feet. The motion sends a wave of water over the edge of the tub.
I yelp softly as he lifts me up, water streaming off my skin as my legs wrap around his waist instinctively. He’s hard and firm all over. Strong and built. I relish every new sensation as our bodies meld together.
The night air is cool on my exposed skin until he lowers us both back into the bubbling heat. But he’s sitting down, and I’m straddling his hips. My arms lock around his neck, and the space between my legs presses against his hardness. My core ignites, my head falls back as his lips blaze a trail down my throat. Nipping at the tender hollow where my neck meets my shoulder, he gives a sharp little bite, and I cry out.
It’s all so overwhelming, his hands, his hardness, his body.
“Daniela…” He growls my name like a prayer and a curse. It only makes me need him even more. And then his hand finally slips down to my bikini bottoms.
We pull away, eyes latched on one another. He’s asking for my permission. In answer, I widen my knees, half kneeling as his fingers slip inside me. I shudder out a sigh, and when his thumb finds and circles my core, I choke out a strangled sigh.
Pleasure lances through my body, sparking at my breasts and shooting downward. I grind myself against fingers, needing friction, utterly lost in the fire consuming us both.
He wasn’t supposed to want me like this.
We weren’t supposed to have feelings, or show any emotions.
We weren’t supposed to get close.
But every fevered kiss and possessive touch of his hands tells a different story. He’s drowning in me, and I’m drowning in him, and there’s no saving either of us now. My eyes find his through the hazy steam.
“This is wrong,” I pant, the words barely audible over our ragged breathing. My body yearns for him, but my mind gives one last feeble protest. Dexter’s eyes flash with something that looks like guilt, and longing.
“Then why does it feel so right?” He doesn’t give me a chance to respond as his mouth crashes onto mine again, and the argument is lost in a tangle of tongues and teeth and need.
One of his hands pulls down my bikini triangle, exposing my breast which he hungrily kneads. He tweaks my nipple mercilessly. Between that and his fingers sliding over my slick folds under the water, it’s too much.
“You’re so wet,” he mutters against my lips, his tone a mix of heat and desire. A wild laugh bubbles up in my throat at the unintended irony. Of course I’m wet, we’re in a hot tub, but it dies the instant he strokes me again. We devour one another with our mouths, desperate with need. Two fingers glide into me, and I break the kiss with a strangled moan. His thumb presses against my clit, rubbing slow, torturous circles that make my thighs quake around his hips. My head falls back, and Dexter takes advantage, latching onto my breast and sucking hard, extracting every ounce of pleasure he can from my body as his mouth and fingers work their magic.
I cry out again as he sucks hard, his tongue flicking over the sensitive peak while his fingers curl deep inside me. Pleasure radiates through me, every nerve ending on fire. I’m so close already; heat is coiling tight in my belly, with each stroke of his fingers. His teeth graze my nipple at the exact moment his thumb presses down firmly on my clit, and I shatter. Euphoria pulses through me, wave after wave, and all I can do is cry out Dexter’s name. He groans and keeps working me with his hand, prolonging my climax until I shudder and fall apart in his arms.
An animalistic sound comes from deep in his throat. “Come for me, Gatinha,” he whispers, his voice low and husky. He watches me as I unravel, his fingers still inside me as the orgasm crashes over me, sudden and violent, clenching every muscle in my body. Bubbles cascade over me as withdraws his fingers from my trembling body.
We pant, and I sit on him, falling into his chest, burying my face in the crook of his neck. His arms come around, caging me against him. I hear his heart beating wildly. As wildly as mine. We cling to each other.
Dipping his head, he drops a kiss on my shoulder. I shiver, then savor his tenderness, the way he’s holding me. How he feels against me. Protective, strong, hard. I love it when his hand soothes back my hair. I can’t help but drop a kiss on his damp chest. I inhale, sniffing him like I have no manners. The truth is, I could stay like this all night. I don’t want to move. I don’t want this bubble to burst. The secret, sultry place where Dexter and I finally got to share a few moments of intimacy.
Now I want more, because I’ve had a taste, and it’s not enough.
“I’m in danger of falling in love with you, Dexter.”
His body tenses. A tremor runs through me that has nothing to do with the cooling night air. I loosen my hold around his neck, suddenly aware of how closely we’re joined. He seems to realize it at the same time.
Carefully, he lifts me, easily and sets me down beside him. Hot water swirls between us and I rearrange my clothing so that I’m decent again. I made a mistake saying what I just did, because the way he’s looking at me? He doesn’t like it.
I start to shake, then panic sets in as I hold his gaze. There’s a rawness in his expression I’ve never seen, and when he drags a hand through his soaked hair, I see it trembling.
“This … shouldn’t have happened,” he says hoarsely. A spear through my heart. I wrap my arms around myself, suddenly cold despite the steaming water. “It was just supposed to be a marriage on paper.” Dexter’s jaw tightens. Water drips from his hair into his eyes, and he swipes it away, refusing to look at me.
The only sound is the churn of the tub’s jets. I rub my arms, trying to hold myself together.
“Do … do you regret it?” I ask softly, bracing myself for his answer. It’s like a slap, when he doesn’t reply. His silence sends a fissure of hurt through my chest. “Don’t,” I choke out, anger rising to battle the hurt. “Don’t do that.”
His eyes snap to mine. “Don’t do what?”
“This.” I hate the way my voice trembles. “Don’t shut me out and act like nothing happened. Don’t you dare pretend that meant nothing.”
His face twists, pain etched in every angle. “Daniela…”
“No!” A bitter laugh bubbles up in my throat. “You swore you didn’t want me, remember? That this would never happen.” I gesture between us, my hand shaking. “Well, guess what? It did happen. You want me. You need me. You just proved it.”
He flinches as if punched, his eyes going glossy. “Of course I—” He cuts himself off, biting down on whatever he was about to admit. A harsh breath shudders out of him. “Wanting you was never the problem.”
“Then what is?” My voice cracks. “Because I’m sitting here, and I care about you and I … and I want this, Dexter. I’m not in love with you, okay? If that makes you feel better. This isn’t some grand forever promise. But I care about you, and it scares me. And I’m here. We’re in this together, whether we’re meant to be or not. And after what just happened between us, you still choose to run away.”
He winces, as if my words have wounded him. “I’m trying to protect you,” he grinds out.
“Protect me?” I stare at him, incredulous. “From what? From you? You think you’re some kind of curse?”
He says nothing, but the flicker in his eyes is answer enough. A hot tear slips down my cheek.
“You don’t get to decide how I feel, or what I risk,” I whisper. “I knew being with you could hurt. I knew you were wounded, and you think you’re to blame for what happened to your mom. That you can’t love—” His eyes pierce through me and he frowns.
“Don’t talk about love. I got you off in the water. That’s all that happened here.”
His words hit so hard, they feel like a slap. But I don’t back down. “I had an idea you’d be complicated. That you’d fight this at every turn. And I still …” My voice catches. “I still jumped in, eyes wide open.”
“You shouldn’t have,” he whispers, agony in every syllable. “You should walk away. Right now. Before I hurt you any more.”
My heart cracks at the sadness in his voice. “I can’t do that. We’re in this for a reason. For a financial reason. This is part of a deal.” But I need to know more about the source of his pain, his belief, how he sees himself. “Why do you think you’ll hurt me? Why can’t you just let someone care about you? Why can’t you care about them back?”
His head jerks up, eyes blazing with torment. “You want the truth?” he rasps. “You really want to know why I can’t do this?”
“Yes,” I say, overcome with a desperate need to help him. “I deserve that much.” His throat works, and for a long moment I think he’ll refuse. But then something in him crumples.
“Because I sent my mother to her death,” he bites out. His words hang in the night air like a hangman’s noose.
“Dexter … that’s not true,” I say, my words tumbling out in a harsh whisper.
“Don’t tell me what’s true and what isn’t. You never knew her.”