7. The Unforgivable #3
Dona Ana hands my wallet to me before disappearing inside the house. Alejandro lingers in the vestibule but his curiosity is peaked when he watches me hand over my ID.
“What is that?” he asks.
“Nothing.” I scribble my name on the release form, snatch the box from the courier, and rush upstairs.
Alejandro follows me all the way to the study.
“What kind of delivery requires a courier to drive around in a bulletproof car?” he demands.
“I had a bracelet resized, that’s it. The local jeweler does home deliveries and I forgot I had it scheduled for today.”
Lyss has been in here a few times in the past couple weeks but the study is still in a state of disarray.
There are boxes everywhere, a lamp still wrapped in bubble wrap, and the wood-burning fireplace has yet to be used after its repair during the holidays.
Some shelves are stocked with books and all the curtain rods have been installed and deep velvet fabric covers the windows.
There’s a sofa and a rug but no coffee table or love seats across from the fireplace and the mantle is empty.
Above it hangs a large portrait in a thick, gilded frame.
Like the safe in the Barcelona house, mine is hidden behind a painting. Before I can open it, Alejandro grabs the box from my hands.
“Give it back!”
He pulls out the diamond bracelet inside. “I didn’t buy you this.”
I snatch the bracelet out of his hand. “Does it matter who did?”
His face flushes with anger. “You know what, I’m beginning to think it does.”
“Jealousy doesn’t suit you. Besides, you seem to forget that we were very much broken up for a year.
” He doesn’t put a fight when I take the box back and put the bracelet inside.
“So why don’t we just drop it? I haven’t asked you about your affairs this past year and I’m sure their numbers are dizzying. ”
I use the step stool to reach the picture frame and pull it back like a door to reveal the safe behind it. I throw the box inside with little care for the precious diamonds and slam the safe door shut.
It’s the first time I’ve thought about Alejandro being with another woman.
The knowledge was always there, floating around the back of my mind, but I never let it fully take form.
Every time I came close a blinding rage came over me and the urge to hop on a flight back to Barcelona was too great.
I refused to let him have that much power over me and I was determined not to go back.
The truth is, the jealous one in our relationship has always been me.
Alejandro can be protective but not possessive—that vice is mine and mine alone and voicing it aloud after all this time makes me absolutely murderous.
Sick and nauseas and so livid it feels like I can split the world in half with my bare hands.
No…no, I don’t want to know. I don’t ever want to know and he should never tell me. I don’t care how horrible the double standard is but I really think I’d be capable of murder if I found out he…if in the last year there was someone…
“Dahlia—”
“No. Forget it. Forget I said anything.” I cross my arms over my chest, feeling the need to protect myself. “I don’t want to know.”
“Oh, but you certainly don’t have a problem with my knowing.” He parries back.
“I kept my business in New York so private you didn’t even know I was dating your friend of over a decade until you came over here and saw him for yourself.” I snap. “That one’s on you! And as for whatever girlfriends you’ve had—”
“There are none.”
“Hook-ups, flirtations, whatever! I’m liable to kill someone so don’t—”
“There were none, Dahlia. None.”
The room falls quiet.
“Wh—” I stumble over my own tongue. “I—”
“Yes, we were…” he struggles to get the next part out. “We were broken up. I know that. But I couldn’t. I’m not angry you did—I never was—I just couldn’t.”
“Oh, well…that’s great.” I throw my arms up in defeat. “Now I just feel like a slut.”
He huffs and rolls his eyes. “Dahlia—”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Because I thought they were meaningless!” He explodes.
“I thought you were angry and getting it out of your system. A mí qué carajo me importa con quién te metías, cuando yo sé perfectamente bien que a quien amas es a mí.” He stops abruptly to take in a sharp breath.
“Or at least I thought it was me! I’m not exactly sure at the moment. ”
“Alex—”
“And fine! Maybe I was arrogant. Maybe I made the mistake of thinking your heart belonged to me and that so long as it did, it wouldn’t matter what you were doing here. Because deep down, you’d still be mine.”
He drags his fingers through his hair and turns but there is nowhere to go.
The way he disintegrates in front of me is unprecedented.
His shoulders slump and his expression deflates.
His eyes darken to a dull and lackluster shade I’ve never seen before—neither hazel nor brown.
It makes my insides curdle and my throat tighten.
“Did Rian give it to you?” he asks after a long while.
My voice grows quiet. “It’s just a bracelet, Alex.”
It’s not just about the bracelet though.
What he’s trying to ask is if there’s something more.