Chapter 37
THIRTY-SEVEN
VALENTINA
I wake, the warm embrace of Santos’ arms instantly calming my nightmare-riddled mind. Why’s it whenever something good happens, I’m reminded of the demons who dwell within?
I close my eyes, exhaling with a frustrated huff.
“Regretting it already?” Santos grumbles, his voice raspy with sleep. I squirm against him as a shiver races down my spice, and his arms instantly tighten. “Or frustrated it’s morning and you’ll have to pull yourself out of my beautiful, sexy, fabulous—”
Grabbing a pillow, I smack it against his head. “Pompous ass.”
I feel his grin spread against the crook of my neck. “Even now, you can’t stop thinking about my ass. To be fair, I can’t stop thinking about yours either. My finger looked so good inside you. I’d love to see how you stretch for my co—”
“Santos,” I groan, instantly wet from his words and the raspy way he’s saying them.
Instead of speaking again, he presses his lips to the hollow beneath my ear before he inhales deeply. His kisses continue, traveling downward slowly and without purpose beyond driving me crazy.
And fuck, if it isn’t working.
I squirm against him again, every thought fleeting beyond getting beneath this beautiful man again. I’d do anything to stay in bed, exploring his hands, his mouth, his cock. In my soul, I know no amount of time will be enough; uninterrupted days or weeks would simply be a tease.
I’m falling for Santos in a way I’ve never fallen for another.
I’d forgive him for any sin, any grievance, just to stay wrapped in his arms.
I moan again, his lips brushing the hard peak of my nipple in a nearly loving way. My legs quiver at his tenderness.
What’s happening to me? I’ve never felt this way about anyone. Am I in lo—
A pounding at the door has us sitting up in unison, so quickly, our heads crack together and I reel back in shock.
“Fuck, are you okay?” His hands frame my face, mossy green eyes wide with panic. The pain disappears instantly, the ache in my heart outweighing any other.
“I’m okay.” I give him a tentative smile, and I watch the tension dissipate from the cords of his shoulders.
“I’m sorry, I just—”
The knock comes again, this time louder and more insistent. With it comes the realization I’m in bed with Santos—naked and vulnerable in a way I’ve never been.
What will McCrae think? Does it even matter?
My door knob jiggles, and I throw back the covers. “I’m coming, damn it!”
I jump out of bed, but Santos’ hands grab at my waist, yanking me back into the sheets.
He scrambles to straddle me, but I push him off easily.
“Shhh.” I giggle, pressing a kiss to the hollow of his throat.
He melts at the contact and then flops back onto the bed, starring up at me like the bronze God he is—tan, thoroughly ripped, and naked. So fucking naked.
Even if he wasn’t naked—and growing harder by the moment—anyone who saw him would know he’s been fucked. The blatant smirk and evil look in his eye reeks of sexual prowess and victory.
That, and the hickies peppering his neck.
I don’t totally remember doing that—I’ve never been one to claim or be claimed, but something about this man has me turning upside down and inside out.
“Get dressed,” I hiss, tossing a pillow at him.
“But my clothes—” I slap a palm over my face, groaning. His clothes are sopping wet on the floor of the shower, right next to mine.
I hop around my room, putting on the first things I see, brushing my hair back into a ponytail. When I look at in the mirror, I try not to cringe at the obvious I’ve been fucked sign flashing over my head.
“It’s not that bad.” Santos’ gleeful smile tells me just how much he’s lying.
“I’ll get whoever it is down the hall, and then you can sneak to your room.”
Santos’s eyebrows raise. “Whoever it is. You know who it is, V.”
I glance at the door and then shake my head. We both know who it is. I just don’t know how he’s about to react.
“If he doesn’t see you—”
“V, open this door, or I’ll have to assume that fucking rat hurt you, and I’ll break it down.”
My mouth flops open, and Santos’ smile falters. Irritation—or hurt, I can’t tell which—flashes across his face, and for the first time ever, I want to fight McCrae.
No matter how badly I want to tell him off, the words instantly die on my tongue as I face him. McCrae’s gaze looks over my shoulder for the briefest moment, and then he turns away.
His expression remains indifferent—completely unfazed.
“What’re you doing?” I close the door behind me, racing to keep up with him as he stomps down the hall to the kitchen. As I emerge into the enormous room, the blood in my veins turns to ice, and I have to grab the counter to keep from falling over.
The events of the day before come crashing back, like a tidal wave kept behind the smallest of sand barriers—bursting through in a flood of emotion so violent, I touch my chest just to make sure my heart’s still beating beneath.
“V, are you—”
“What’re they doing here?” I stare at McCrae, the feeling of betrayal growing worse with each passing moment.
He sighs before facing me, and for a moment, I see a flicker of sadness in his eyes before he blinks it away. Instead, he looks at Faith, whose face is covered in red splotches, like she’s been crying.
“What’s wrong?” I step toward her, confused, and her eyes widen.
“You were attacked,” she whispers. That’s when I realize the tears are for me—out of pity, or maybe out of disappointment for what I did. It’s a crushing blow, one that has rage cutting through me so vicious, I feel my chest to search for the knife that must be protruding from my heart.
“I don’t—”
“We’re worried about you. Are you okay?” It’s Adalene who speaks next, and I grip the edge of the bar so tightly, my knuckles crack. It’s one thing to have Faith worried for me, but another to have Adalene—a person I’ve done nothing but hurt my entire life—concerned.
It’s too much.
“Please, don’t,” I bite out, my eyes never straying to look at her.
“V, if you’d just talk to me, we could have helped—”
I bark a laugh, its edges sharp enough to silence the room. Faith’s face only falls further, and McCrae stiffens.
Fuck them. Fuck them all. I’m a caged animal, surrounded by every good and decent person I know—every person I can’t stand the thought of disappointing again. When will enough be enough?
“How dare you?” I hiss, finally facing my brother. He stands tall and proud, wearing a simple, white collared shirt and dark jeans, his hair perfectly coiffed, mirrored by a dark shadow of hair over his face. He looks just like our father, his eyes sharp and intelligent, lips firm and indifferent.
I feel the bile crawling up my throat before I can stop it.
Whirling to the sink, I empty the meager contents of my stomach, stopping only when the heaving leaves my eyes watering and my mouth dry. Everyone continues to wait, to stare. Sweat beads on my forehead, and I no longer know where to run, where to hide from this. From them. From my past.
Faith walks toward me hesitantly, offering me a glass of water. I take it, careful not to touch her. After polishing off the cool liquid, I raise my gaze back to Mateo. His has changed somehow—no longer hard and reserved, but true concern fills his eyes, and I contemplate puking all over again.
“What do you want?” I whisper, leaning against the counter for support.
“We want to help you.” Adalene looks up at Mateo with something that looks an awful lot like scolding, and his shoulders deflate.
“Why? Why now?”
It’s McCrae who speaks, his voice hushed as he crosses his arms. “This can’t go on, V. You deserve better. They deserve to know, and you deserve so much better.”
I look at him incredulously. Of all the people I thought understood me. Where can I even begin?
As if reading my mind, he straightens, looking at Mateo. “I met your sister on the floor of an employees-only bathroom at Del Maria. She was being attacked by a man, and I came across them.”
I hold my breath as McCrae recounts the story, watching my brother’s face fall with each word. When McCrae gets the part about smashing the guy’s head against the sink, Mateo’s eyes harden. “Killing people’s never the answer.”
I roll my eyes. “Says the person who’s never had to fight for their life.”
“V, stop. You had all the same privileges as me, all the same opportunities. Dad was always taking you to work with him—his prodigal daughter. I could never compete with that, so I didn’t bother trying.
I knew you wanted the family business, and I did everything I could to stay out of your way. It’s not my fault that—”
“Say another word, and I promise, I’ll never speak to you again,” I snap, my patience for hearing his sob story running out.
Faith moves between us, the red on her face only brighter as she nears. “Please, Mateo. You don’t know anything. Listen to your sister for once. Do you really think she became an angry person just because? Angry people are sad people who others stopped paying attention to.”
I stare at her. Hearing my life summed into one perfect sentence knocks the breath from my lungs, and words seem farther away than ever. When Mateo looks at me again, his face is far more vulnerable—open and afraid—and part of me wants to deny him any more truths. I want him to hurt the way I hurt.
I shake my head. I don’t want him to hurt, not even for a minute. It’s why I’ve spent my entire life icing him out. If I let him in now, if I tell him everything, it’ll crush him.
We’ve gone too long trading sharp barbs and venomous words—what if we can never be fixed?
Isn’t trying and holding on to the hope better than facing that reality?
I can’t take back all the horrible things I’ve done, and the fear of failing as I try to reassemble the fractured remnants of my pathetic life is too much for me to face.
“Let him decide how to feel, V.” Faith nods, giving me a small smile of encouragement. I don’t know how she always knows what I’m thinking, but not for the first time, I’m begrudgingly grateful.
I face away from Mateo, staring out the kitchen window. For several moments, I watch the horses milling in the grass, their tails swishing in the fall breeze.
“I was fifteen the first time Father took me to work with him. Do you remember? It was the night you pulled me out of the pond behind the house?” I wait for Mateo to speak.
“Yes, I remember.” His voice is feeble, like remembering that night is as painful for him as it is for me.
Bristling at the implication, I say the next part without sensitivity, instantly regretting it as Mateo grunts in pain.
“Father made me have sex with three men that night, to insure the casino would stay open. It was a banker and a lawyer, and I’m not sure what the third guy did, but they were important.
Really important.” I lick my lips, the first angry tear skittering over my cheek before I continue.
“So important, your precious father sold my virginity to three men who took turns while holding me down.”
The room’s so silent, I become faintly aware of a chain rattling against a gate outside the window. But I can’t stop.
The words pour out of me, and even though I give them the shortened version of every horrible encounter, my retelling takes well over an hour.
When I’m finished, my eyes burn, raw and achy with the weight of a thousand tears. My fingers tingle, and I no longer know if I can face them—any of them—again.
“The guy who attacked me yesterday was one of Father’s security men back when I was young and Father was using me.
The guy knew everything about what I’d endured.
His son did too; he was the guy McCrae found attacking me.
” I rub my aching eyes as the final pieces click into place.
“He wanted to ruin me—he said so. I’m sure he was the one who tried to shoot me; maybe he’s even responsible for the other things that’ve gone wrong around here, I don’t know.
But I had to—he was never going to stop—”
The words die on my tongue. I’m all talked out—bare and vulnerable.
A hand wraps around my wrist gently, tugging me to turn around. Mateo’s arms envelop me instantly, his hand holding the back of my head, crushing me to him. The warm feel and spicy scent of him fills me with a sense of peace almost instantly.
He doesn’t ask a single question. He doesn’t offer any doubts or reservations.
He just clings to me, and I let him have the weight of the knowledge, of the horrors I’ve faced so long alone. Mateo holds me for several moments, and I become aware of the sounds of sniffling. I pull back, finding Adalene’s face streaked in tears as she holds Faith’s hand.
They look at me with such devestation. I don’t know how to handle it, so I look away, ashamed.
“V, I wish I’d known.” There’s no accusation, no pity still. Just pain.
Pain, I understand.
I shrug. “What could you have done? You were a boy.”
Mateo’s face hardens. “Father, how could he have—”
“With his dying breath, he admitted I was his biggest regret. I don’t know what I did, but I was never enough. I’m never enough for anyone.” The last part slips out, and I snap my mouth shut in surprise. I shouldn’t have said that.
“You’re more than enough.” Faith’s hand wraps around mine.
Guilt consumes me now, the weight of every wrongdoing too much to carry.
“I’m sorry for what happened to you. It shouldn’t have.
” Adalene looks shocked, her eyes widening as I say the words.
“It was all an accident, a mess I didn’t know how to clean up.
I thought I was protecting McCrae but ended up hurting you, and—”
“Tell us what happened.” Mateo’s voice is gentler than before but firm, and I know he’s not about to take no for an answer. He’s finally cracked inside my frozen wall, and I know in my heart, there’s no pushing him out now.
I don’t even know if I want to, not when it’s so nice to finally feel his warmth seeping in.