8. Chapter 7
Chapter 7
Present Day
R amiro gave up on sleep and got dressed to head to the office. The silence when he stepped inside pressed on him. Summer often beat him in, greeting him with a smile and a cup of coffee made the way he liked it. She spoiled him with things like that.
If she’d arrived there alone that morning, he would have lost his mind. No, giving her the day off was the best option. Any danger to her was unacceptable, and he wasn’t sure how the threat from yesterday would play out.
He should have never hired her, but it was hard to regret the years they’d worked together. There were additional steps to take to go legitimate, to truly be a security company, but they would have to wait until he dealt with the cartel.
He shifted past the drying carpet to stand in front of Summer’s tea station. The delicate ceramic cups had always felt like they’d shatter in his hand, and he didn’t even like tea, but when she’d admitted to her interest, he’d bought as much as he could find. Summer rarely allowed herself to ask for anything. It made it difficult to spoil her like he wanted.
He shouldn’t have come to the office. Her not being there made it feel too empty, and the memory of a knife held to her throat was making him angry all over again.
His phone pinged with a message from Hayes.
‘Your gift.’
He stared down at information on the cartel’s movements, just as he’d anticipated. Hayes was worth all the hassle. He always came through.
Ramiro took a step toward his desk, ready to dive into the intel, when the bell over the door sounded behind him.
He whirled, expecting another attack, but the sight of Summer’s bowed head sent all his adrenaline pinging with nowhere to go. He should have been upset she’d shown up after he asked her to stay away, but that emotion was buried under the contentment he felt at seeing her.
Contentment that faded as she shuffled inside on bare feet, heels dangling from her fingers. Her toes curled when they reached the damp carpet. The door clicked shut behind her, but she still hadn’t lifted her head.
She wore a blue dress that clung to her body, something he’d never seen her wear before and that she’d obviously slept in. It looked amazing on her, but he preferred her patterned dresses. They always made her smile .
“Sorry,” she whispered, her voice husky and choked. “I shouldn’t be here. I—”
A sob broke through her apology, and Ramiro crossed to her. He held her close as she began to cry, her face pressing into his suit jacket.
“Who hurt you? Was it the boyfriend?” That was who she’d been with. Ramiro would enjoy killing the man.
Summer shook her head, but her tears got worse, choking her even more. “Not… his fault,” she pushed out, but Ramiro didn’t believe her.
He carried her into his office, settling in the chair that was perfect for him to cuddle her in. She’d ended up curled against his body two days in a row, but both times she’d been crying. Her tears made him want to lock her away from the world until she smiled again, a smile just for him.
His cheek rested on her hair while her every gasp and sob tore him up inside.
How did these uptight pricks keep hurting her? Ramiro had Hayes check into each one’s background, and they were all decent guys on paper. He convinced himself that they’d be better for her than he would be, but it never worked out.
Because she’s yours , the voice whispered in his head, the one that was sounding less and less wrong.
He wanted her so damn much it scared the hell out of him. His father had taken over every aspect of his mother’s life, and she’d let him. The thought dried out his mouth, and he pushed the memory of how his mother had died deeper .
His hands slid over Summer’s back to ground himself, soothing strokes that helped ease her breathing. When she finished crying, she would lift her head and smile at him, but it would be that forced smile that broke his heart. The one tainted with guilt over leaking her emotions, as if they weren’t something he’d burn down the world to have.
Summer deserved to be taken care of, even if it was by someone like him.
Ramiro waited for her to pull away, waited for the smile that made him feel like he’d failed again.
Her crying eased, but her hand remained fisted in his jacket, her face pressed to his chest. She wasn’t even trying to fake being okay.
His arms wrapped more firmly around her. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
“You’re not mad?” she asked, her voice muffled by his chest.
“I can never be mad at you, Summer. You should know that by now.”
“But you told me not to come here today.”
He sighed, nuzzling against her hair. “I’d be mad if you were feeling like this and didn’t come to me.” Or worse, if she went to someone else. It would be his own fault, but he’d kill the person anyway.
“I cry on you too much.” Despite her words, she clutched him even tighter.
Ramiro let his grip ease, stroking her back again. He wanted to reassure her there would never be a ‘too much.’ To tell her he wanted all her tears, even while they ripped him apart. He knew better, though. No matter how many times he told her, she saw herself as a burden.
He really should have killed her parents back when he’d first found her. They’d done a number on her head.
“Am I visiting the prick you’re dating?” he asked.
Her grip on his jacket eased, her hand slipping inside instead. The press of her palm burned through his dress shirt.
Ramiro’s brows drew together when she didn’t defend the boyfriend. It was almost as if she were considering letting him loose on the prick.
He tugged her away from his chest so he could read her face. “Did he hurt you?”
“N-no,” Summer said, but she wouldn’t meet his eyes.
Rage at himself bubbled in Ramiro’s veins. He’d already suspected the boyfriend was an asshole, and he’d sent her there instead of asking her to stay with him, all because he’d known he’d break and drag her into his bed.
“I’m gonna pay your boyfriend a visit,” he said. He’d take her to his place first, like he should have done before.
Summer’s hands lifted to clasp his face, making him grow still. “You can’t kill him, Ram.”
His hands moved over hers, absorbing her touch. “I can and I will,” he reminded her. “The only thing that’ll stop me is you telling me he didn’t make you cry. Can you say that, baby girl?” He held her gaze when she tried to look away. “The truth.”
“It’s not his fault,” she whispered, biting her lip .
That wasn’t a no. He started lifting her off his lap, but she straddled him, pushing her body against his.
His body liked her closeness, but he lashed it down.
“It’s not his fault,” she repeated. “We never talked about it before, I just assumed. A man can not want kids.” Her hands tugged free from his as she sat up straighter. “I mean, you don’t want kids, do you?”
Ramiro’s mind became a snarl at even the idea. “I’d be a shit father.” He’d grown up with one of the worst examples, and the thought of a baby, one dependent on him, filled with his tainted genes, made him sweat. Diego had been trying to convince him otherwise, but Ramiro was still terrified of even being around a child.
“See? You can’t be mad at Derek for being like you,” she said.
His lip curled. “That man is nothing like me.”
Summer stared into his eyes. “That’s true,” she whispered. Her hand came back to his face, stroking over his beard.
Her fingers made tingles spread through his body.
“I wish it was with you.” Her words dug a hole into his chest.
“Summer…” He didn’t know what to say to her. The thought of impregnating her, this woman he craved more than anything in the world, didn’t compute in his head.
Ramiro wasn’t made for kids.
He cleared his throat. “I didn’t know you two were at the point of having that kind of talk.” He frowned, trying to remember how long she’d been dating the prick. Had it really been close to six months ?
Summer let her hand drop, pressing it against his chest. “We aren’t. That’s why I took the test at his house. I thought it’d be better. He’d have to believe me if he saw the results for himself.”
She’d taken a pregnancy test. The idea of it made Ramiro’s thoughts stall.
“He—” She swallowed, staring down at her hand touching him. “It’s okay that he doesn’t want kids, but the things he said…”
Ramiro would deal with the prick later. He grabbed her face, forcing her to meet his eyes. “Summer? Are you pregnant?”
Her lips trembled. “Yes.”
Her answer ripped out the last of his hope that maybe, since he loved her so fucking much, she could be his. She wasn’t his, and she never would be.