Chapter 7
Evelyn
Ifinally take the last sip of the beer that I’ve been nursing for over an hour. Even though George is just at the other end of the bar, I’m still too jumpy to allow myself to get tipsy.
He’s networking with his colleagues, so I’ll give him space. I’m just grateful to be out of the apartment. My social awkwardness keeps me somewhat apart from the people around me, but at least I’m not completely isolated.
I’m accustomed to being an outsider, a quiet observer. I’ve never quite fit in anywhere—George is the only person who’s ever really understood and accepted me. He’s the only man who’s bothered to break through the protective walls around my heart and earn my trust.
He’s distant at the moment while he focuses on his career, but he’s devoted to work for both of us, for the future he’s planned.
I try to dispel the worst of the tension from my shoulders.
To prevent myself from picking at the label on my beer bottle, I set it down on the bar behind me and focus my attention on Sara.
The vibrant, chatty woman is married to one of George’s coworkers.
She gushes on about her steamy love life, completely oblivious to my distraction.
I smile and manage a giggle at an appropriate time in her salacious story.
In truth, I’m deeply uncomfortable with the topic of conversation. My sex life with George is private. He won’t appreciate it if I casually gossip about him.
“So, what about you?” she asks, eyes twinkling as they flick to George and back to me. “Is your fiancé keeping you satisfied?” Her blond curls sway around her flushed cheeks as she lets out a conspiratorial laugh. “He always seems so uptight. Is he a total control freak in the bedroom too?”
Heat floods my entire body; I’m sure even my ears have gone pink with embarrassment.
The memory of my illicit dream rises, unbidden. For a moment, I remember the caress of sensual lips on mine and the ache between my legs. I hadn’t been able to move; all I’d been able to do was submit to his scorching kiss.
I’m no longer sure if the sizzling heat in my veins is entirely from embarrassment over Sara’s inappropriate question.
“George and I are very happy together,” I hedge. “Sorry, I’ll be right back.”
I wave in the direction of the restrooms and quickly make my escape before she can ask more sordid questions.
It doesn’t matter that the fiery passion Sara described is utterly foreign to me. The stability and trust I have with George are far more precious to me than orgasms. I don’t need to one-up her stories to prove my love for my fiancé.
I edge around the small crowd of people swaying and twirling to the beat of vibrant Latin music. The bar is a bit raucous, but I enjoy observing the smiling revelers. I wish I had my camera with me to capture the moment, but I don’t dare so much as snap a shot with my phone.
George wouldn’t approve.
“Hello, beautiful.”
I jolt at the proximity of the masculine voice behind me. I whirl, ensuring my back is to the wall this time; no one will sneak up on me again.
I shake my head at the dark-haired man with the bushy black beard, arranging my features in a carefully pleasant expression.
“I’m sorry,” I reply in English. “I’m here with my fiancé.”
If he thinks I’m a tourist who doesn’t speak Spanish, he might leave me alone.
“You’re American?” He beams at me as he replies in English, and my stomach sinks. “I love your accent. Have a drink with me.”
He offers me one of the two bottles of beer he’s holding.
I take half a step back, shaking my head again. “I really can’t, but thanks, anyway.”
Maybe he didn’t understand the part about my fiancé. I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt and politely extricate myself from the awkward situation. I don’t want to cause a scene and distract George, not when he’s working so hard to secure his promotion.
The man mirrors my step.
“I bought this for you,” he insists, offering me the beer again. “Come on, just one drink.”
My stomach drops as another masculine form enters my personal space, far too close. He’s massive, at least a foot taller than my five-foot-five frame. For a moment, all I see is his back; broad shoulders completely block my view.
I edge away from the menace that rolls off the man like a palpable force. When his profile comes into view, my breath catches.
His strong, stubble-shadowed jaw might’ve been carved from granite, and those sensual lips are peeled back in a contemptuous snarl. His muscular arm flexes with barely leashed violence as he reaches out and plucks the beer bottle from the smaller man’s hand.
Those fierce wolf’s eyes fix on his prey, and he tips the bottle back to take a swig of beer. Then he gestures at the drink that’d been meant for me, which is still clutched in the other man’s hand.
“That one is for you,” he tells the man.
Something about his gravelly voice makes my belly flip. His accented English is out of place, but I can’t pause to process anything other than witnessing the tense scene that’s unfolding before me.
He leans in slightly, and the smaller man seems to shrink by a few inches.
“I—I didn’t realize she’s with you,” he stammers. “My mistake.”
“Drink it,” the stunning stranger commands, voice rumbling like thunder. “Or don’t you like the taste of whatever drug you put in her beer?”
My skin pebbles, the fine hairs on the back of my neck rising in response to the presence of a predator. I’m sure if the fearful reaction is because of the man who tried to slip me a roofie or an instinctive wariness of the dangerous, beautiful stranger who’s come to my rescue.
It’s the same man I saw in the market over the weekend—the man I dreamed about. I’m sure of it. Those eyes…
The sound of glass smashing on the hardwood floor jolts through my body, and I cringe. The drugged beer splashes my jeans and pools around my worn sneakers.
My savior growls his frustration, white teeth flashing in a feral expression that makes my insides quake.
“You think that will save you?” he seethes. “Now you’ll have to taste broken glass too. I will make you lick it up like the dog you are.”
My would-be assailant shudders in revulsion and backs away, holding his hands up in a sign of surrender.
“I’m sorry,” he gasps. “I’m leaving now.”
The beautiful, terrifying stranger swells with fury, his massive body tensing to attack.
“Wait!” Instinct drives me to stop the violence before I can think better of my actions.
My fingers wrap around my ferocious savior’s corded forearm, as though I can somehow hold back this beast of a man.
Shock thrums through me when he goes still as a statue, his hard muscles bulging beneath my desperate touch.
My skin sparkles with awareness, and electricity arcs through my body in an almost giddy response.
Somehow, I’ve harnessed the attention of the powerful stranger, staying his hand before he carries out his threat to brutalize the weaker man who tried to drug me.
His eyes flash as he watches his enemy hastily retreat. Powerful muscles shift beneath my hand, and I know my savior is about to snap and go after the creep.
“It’s okay,” I assure him quickly. “I’m okay.”
It’s all I can think to say to soothe his protective fury. I’m grateful that he came to my rescue, but I can’t bear to witness the carnage of what he’d threatened to make the man do. After my ordeal with the cartel, the prospect of more violence makes my blood run cold.
He rounds on me, and his intense gaze punches the air from my chest.
“Go back to your friend,” he rumbles, a deep command that rolls through my body.
I finally place his accent: Italian. What’s he doing here in Mexico City? Is he a tourist? I saw him in the market, and now he’s in the same bar as me.
It’s strange, but not beyond reason that he might visit both locations; the bar is in the same neighborhood as the market. There are probably many people who frequent them, but I’ve only taken notice of this particularly beautiful, imposing man.
He captures my full attention so completely that I don’t notice the small crowd that’s parted around us: people giving the broken glass and dangerous man a wide berth.
“Go on,” he prompts when I don’t move.
He wrenches his arm away, and my fingers tingle in the seconds after he breaks contact.
“Your fiancé is waiting for you.” He says the last through gritted teeth.
I blink. How does he know about George?
Oh. I’d told the creep who’d tried to drug me that I’m here with my fiancé. My savior must’ve overheard.
“I…” I swallow down the lump of guilt that suddenly clogs my throat.
George is just across the bar, hidden by the crowd on the dance floor. I’ve been staring at another man, touching him…
“Thank you,” I murmur, turning quickly and scurrying away from his alluring, powerful presence.
I hurry back to George, allowing the revelers to form a barrier between me and the gorgeous stranger. Just before I reach my fiancé, I school my features into a pleasant smile. I don’t dare rush up to him and confess what just happened.
He’ll be upset if he learns that I was harassed.
I go to his side and kiss his cheek: a silent, secret apology for my transgressions. He places a warm hand on my lower back in acknowledgement, but he doesn’t break his conversation with his boss.
I hide my disquiet well. I have no business thinking about another man, no matter how remarkable his eyes are. No matter the fact that he defended me.
No matter that when we touched, I felt a physical connection I’ve never known before.
I lean into George’s hand. I belong to him and no one else.