24. Chapter 24
Miles
I look at Tomas, who’s taking a sip of his beer.
We’ve been in Colombia for a couple of days.
When we arrived, Tia Susana’s spell had passed, and she was feeling better.
I still had Tomas examine her, much to her dismay.
My plan is to go back to Veridian Bay, but I decided to stay a couple more days.
I didn’t attend our scheduled meeting yesterday. Instead, I emailed.
“You’re thinking of her, aren’t you?” Tomas asks, bringing me out of my daze.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lie.
“Mmm, sure you don’t.” He doesn’t stop there. “Has it ever affected you?” He pauses. “Watching her be with others? You’ve watched her for years. Let’s be honest, do the brothers ask you to watch her to the extent that you have?”
“It’s not just about them,” I say, irritated. “She’s too trusting and doesn’t know how to walk away from situations that put her in harm’s way.” I rub the back of my neck. “Gabe wants me to ease off.”
“I agree. She needs to live her own life.” He takes another sip of his beer. “That may be a reason why she rebels and has picked up unhealthy habits.”
He’s referring to the drugs. I went into her apartment and searched for traces of pills, powder, anything, but I didn’t find any drugs. Still, that did nothing to eliminate the doubt that’s been planted by my friend.
“She’s not on anything, Tomas,” I say, though my voice lacks the conviction I wish I had.
“You sound like a man trying to convince himself, not me.” He sets the beer bottle down on the stone table, the glass clicking sharply against the surface. “Just because you didn't find a stash doesn't mean she isn't chasing a high to drown out the noise of being protected by you and her family.”
I look away, out toward the horizon. "I know what I see," I mutter, finally meeting his gaze.
"Do you?" Tomas leans forward, his eyes narrowing. "Or are you just looking for a reason to stay? If you’re honest with yourself, you’d admit it; there’s a strong pull.
You can't stand the idea of you not being the one to protect her. You are terrified that if she finally moves forward with her life, she won't have a single reason to need you.” He takes another slow sip, watching the realization sink in. "You’re not protecting her from the world, Miles. You are protecting her from you.”
“This coming from you.” I’m defensive. “The man who fucks his way through life to avoid any connection.”
"Exactly," Tomas says, not missing a beat. He doesn't even flinch at the low blow; he just offers a slow, cynical smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "I’m an expert at keeping people at a distance. That’s why I recognize the distance you’re keeping between the two of you."
“You’re such an asshole,” I tell my friend.
“Takes one to know one. Now I need to get back to the States. Are you staying or going?”
“I’ll go back with you.”
We head back to the house and say our goodbyes to Tia Susana.
I promise her I’ll be back in a couple of weeks.
We board the private plane, the hum of the engines soon drowning out the sounds of the Colombian afternoon.
Tomas’s words replay in my mind. I’m wound up so tight.
I pull out my phone, and for the first time, my thumb hovers over the screen, hesitant to press the call button, but I finally do.
I turn to Tomas. “I’ll have the car take you home when we land. I have somewhere to be.”
He nods.
As the plane begins its descent, a cold, unfamiliar unease settles in my gut.
I shouldn't feel this way; this is my routine.
Return from a trip, land in Veridian Bay, and call Gemma to meet me at the club.
I force the feeling down, shoving it aside.
Jesus, Miles, this is what you do. After exiting the plane, I make my way to my car and drive the short distance to the club in a blur of motion.
I enter the building and head to the top floor, where the private rooms are.
As soon as I walk out of the elevator, I hear familiar laughter.
It can’t be. I turn and find Veronica at the bar, but she isn’t alone.
She’s in the company of a man. I can’t recall if I’ve seen him before.
I stare at what she’s wearing—a black miniskirt and an ivory top, paired with those fuck-me heels.
She’s practically throwing herself at the guy.
The sight of it hits me like a physical blow, snapping the tension I’ve been carrying since I left Colombia.
I’m frozen, watching the ease with which she touches him.
Her eyes drift toward the open elevator door and find mine.
She sees me, but she doesn't flinch. All she does is offer a thin smile before turning back to the stranger. I’m so fixated on the sight that I don’t even see Gemma approach.
She steps directly into my line of sight, her body obstructing my view of Veronica.
Reaching up, she takes my chin between her fingers and forces my head toward her, demanding my attention.
I pull away and look back toward the bar; the space is empty.
Veronica is gone, and so is the man she was with.
I cross to the bartender like I’m on a mission. Gemma follows close behind, her footsteps a frantic rhythm in contrast to my heavy tread, but I don't look back. The bartender is the only one who might have heard where they were heading.
I don’t hesitate to get the answers I need. “The blonde and the guy, where were they headed?” I pull a couple of hundreds out and slam them onto the bar top.
“I don’t know where exactly,” he says. Leaning in so Gemma can’t hear, he continues, “But she said something about a private room.”
That fucking brat.
The words are a match to the gasoline in my veins.
A private room. She isn't just flirting. I turn away from the bar, my vision tunneling as I scan the hallway of numbered doors. The hypocrisy of my own life. Right now, the only thing that matters is finding the door that stands between me and the most infuriating woman I’ve ever met.