by J Q Anderson
“Camila, ma chérie, are you all right?”
I met his worried eyes and bit my quivering lip. “Yes, I’m fine. Will you please tell Sebastián I took a taxi home?”
“Of course. The taxi’s already here. I was coming to let you know. But, if I may, I think Sebastián would prefer that Rafa takes you home. I can get him in just a moment. We can cancel the taxi.”
I shook my head. “Thank you, but I’ll take the taxi.” I offered him a half smile and he nodded, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder.
“Ma chérie, be patient please. Sebastián can be stubborn. He’s not used to compromising. But he cares about you, very much.”
I swallowed through the ache in my throat and nodded, then quickly turned and rushed to the door.
Chapter 28
I unlocked the front door to my apartment and was immediately relieved to hear music coming from Nata’s room.
“Nata? You home?”
“Back here,” she sang.
In her bedroom, Nata walked back and forth between the closet and the bed, carrying hangers with clothes. She smiled when she saw me. I chuckled at the obscene amount of garments scattered all over her bed. This was my old friend.
“Are you moving?”
“No!” She scowled, horrified. “These are new.”
“I thought you were worried about money.”
“I am. Teo knows what’s going on, and he insisted on taking me shopping to celebrate opening night. It’s an excuse, I know. But honestly, it helped take my mind off things.” Dropping the clothes on the bed, she pulled me into a hug. “It’s good to see you. I worried after you didn’t come home last night. I was so angry with Sergei. Look,” she said, pulling away, “I got stuff for you too. An olive branch after everything we’ve put you through. Don’t worry, I’ve paid for these myself.”
“Nata, no. You don’t have to buy me stuff.”
“I know, but I wanted to, really. Don’t be mad. I’m not trying to buy you or anything. It’s just a way for me to thank you for interceding for us.” She smiled affectionately. “Why don’t you wear this tonight?” She signaled theatrically to a pair of skinny jeans and a coral silk top laid on her bed.
“Okay. What? I love these.” I bit my lip in guilt and pulled her into a hug. “Ugh. Thank you. I hate all this other stuff that got between us. I’m still…coming to terms with all I’ve learned about your family. It’s a shock. But I had no idea things were so tough for you guys here. I can be so clueless. I’m sorry if you felt you couldn’t trust me.”
“Hey.” She held my shoulders, searching my eyes. “It’s not your fault. Or mine.” She shrugged. “We’ll figure it out.”
“Actually, there’s no need. I couldn’t wait to tell you and got distracted by all this. Sorry! Sebastián talked to Julián and got him to release one of the cargoes on hold. The main one, he said.”
Her eyes widened. “Seriously?” She wrapped me into a death grip. “Oh God, that’s great news. Thank you!”
“It was Sebastián, not me.”
“Yeah, but he did it for you. Seriously, thank you.”
“Let’s try our new clothes on.”
It felt good to be around Nata without Sergei and Sebastián, and my parents, and the Russians, and all the crap from the outside world. It all vanished, and we were back to being two girls getting ready for a night out.
I let her do my hair and makeup, knowing she would go all out. When she was done, she turned my chair to the mirror.
“Do you like it?” She smiled.
I blinked at my foxy reflection. She had traced my eyes with black kohl and smoky eye shadow, and my hair was up in a high ponytail that swirled at the end. She loaned me a pair of hoop earrings and a wide, silver cuff that hugged my wrist. My mood dipped at the thought that Sebastián wouldn’t get to see me all done up. Nata noticed the change in my expression.
“You don’t like it. I can try something different.”
“No, It’s not that.” I frowned, looking down. “I…”
“Tell me.”
“I just…I had a fight with Sebastián about Marcos,” I said hesitantly. I wasn’t sure I was ready to talk to Nata about my issues with Sebastián. I watched for any change in her patient expression, but her face was neutral.
“I see.”
“We don’t have to talk about it,” I said. “It’ll be all right.”
She squeezed my hand. “No, I know this has put distance between us, but I want you to talk to me. The way we used to.”
I nodded. I wanted that too.
“What’s going on?” she said.
I shrugged. “He’s jealous. He thinks Marcos is more than a friend.”
“Marcos needs to keep his hands to himself.”
“Whose side are you on?”
“Yours. But you know I’m right. You have to set boundaries. Honestly, I don’t like that he plays with you the way he does. You used to have strong feelings for him. What, all that is like, gone now?”
“Yes, it’s gone,” I said. “I want to be with Sebastián. Not Marcos.”
“Listen, you know I have your back, always. And it hasn’t been easy getting used to the idea of you and Sebastián. But he has a point.”
“You, defending Sebastián? That, I wasn’t ready for.”
“I’m not defending him. I just want you to open your eyes and protect yourself more when it comes to Marcos. Whether you want to admit it or not, he will always have an effect on you, and the only way to control that is by putting some physical boundaries between you two. Outside of work, he shouldn’t manhandle you.”
I was about to speak, but she raised a palm, and I closed my mouth.
“Just think about it. Come on. Let’s get out of here.”
It was past eleven when the taxi pulled into the crooked streets of Palermo Hollywood. Outside Isabel, Marcos stood with other dancers in conversation. The street was alive. People gathered and walked by, dressed for a night out. Music funneled out from the bars, mixing with laughter and friends greeting each other. It felt good to be out, free.
Wearing an indecently short dress, Daniela, a principal in the company, hugged the doorman at Isabel affectionately, which granted us a quick entrance of cutting the line.
Inside, the place was surreal, and I immediately understood why Sebastián wanted to come here together. The main area was a gargantuan living room with Art Decó sofas upholstered in green velvet. To the beat of the music, lights phased into different shades on a ceiling that, according to Dani, was inspired by the Whitney Museum of American Art in New York. A bar wrapped around one side and behind it, hundreds of liquor bottles filled floating shelves lit from underneath. I grinned at everything, thrilled to finally be out with my friends in such a cool place.
We took over an open area with crescent-shaped sofas, and everyone ordered appetizers and drinks. Marcos wedged himself between another dancer and me, wrapping a muscular arm around my shoulders while deep in discussion with Diego about a recent soccer game. Nata shot me a See what I mean? look and I rolled my eyes, shifting under Marcos’s arm. He tightened his grip, flashing me a quick smile before going back to his conversation.
After a couple of drinks, I needed to find the restroom. When I pushed through the door, my head spun. The alcohol swimming in my head was enhanced by the endless effect of a mirror-paneled ceiling and walls. My mind kept going back to Sebastián and how much he would have liked the overall design of this place. Dread filled me at the thought of him with Julián instead of me.
I rejoined the group, and Marcos gripped my hand, then led me to the dance floor. I hadn’t seen Carla all night and wondered if things were tense between them again. Their relationship was volatile, so the rest of us stayed clear. He pulled me into a slow dance and kissed my neck.
“Marcos.”
“Hi, babe. It’s been ages. I’ve fucking missed you.” He smiled, his glassy eyes crinkling at the corners. “Give me some love.” His arm snaked around my
waist to bring me closer as he pressed soft kisses on my neck. Lemon and vodka laced his breath. Awesome.
“It’s good to see you too.”
His hands stroked my back as he swayed us to the music. Pressing me against him, he suddenly hardened. I tensed, but he squeezed me tighter. Shit. Shit.
“Marcos.” I put my hands on his chest and pushed away.
“Sorry.” He smiled, pulling me back to him.
I detangled from him and gestured to the bar. “Let’s have a drink.” I immediately regretted saying that. He didn’t need more alcohol, but I needed out.
Marcos reluctantly followed. I slid onto a barstool and ordered a vodka tonic. The barman nodded and flashed me a flirty smile. Marcos shot him a dirty look, then turned to me. He gave my outfit the once-over and winked.
“You look hot tonight, sweetie.”
“Where’s Carla?” I said.
Marcos rubbed the back of his head as if the question had stabbed him there. “Who the fuck knows. We had a fight today. She’s pissed.” He sighed, scanning the crowd. “I think we need some space. Can I crash at your place tonight?”
“Sure, but why? What’s going on?”
He raised his eyebrows, shaking his head in exasperation. “Fuck, I don’t know. She wants more, I guess. They always want more. Why can’t all girls be like you, Cams? You never ask anything of me.”
“You and I aren’t dating, that’s why I don’t want more. Stop being such a dick to Carla. I know she matters to you.”
He eyed me for a moment. “Maybe she’s not it. Maybe I’m better off with someone like you.” His gaze stayed on me, challenging me. Fuck. Fuck.
“The only reason you’re saying that is because you’re scared of where things may go with her, which proves my point that you really do care. Maybe more than you’re willing to admit.” I sipped my drink and frowned. It was strong.
Marcos grabbed my hand, pulling me to him until I was pressed against his chest. Shit. Boundaries would be good, Camila.
“Marcos, I’m trying to talk to you.”
“I’m done talking. Let’s go back to dancing,” he whispered in my ear. A few weeks ago I would’ve been thrilled. I liked dancing with him, and he was sexy and fun. But Sebastián’s and Nata’s words about Marcos’s hands all over me sent guilt flashing through me. I grabbed his wrists from behind my back and pulled them away.
“Marcos, I can’t. I’m dating Sebastián. We can’t fool around like we used to.”
He smiled. Then his hand reached behind my head and curled my long ponytail around his wrist, bringing my face to his. “You’re my best friend. I don’t ever want to lose that,” he whispered. “But…”
I opened my mouth to argue, but an iron arm yanked me back by the waist, forcing Marcos’s hand to unwrap painfully from my hair.
“Get your fucking hands off her.” Sebastián’s voice cut through the music, his tone charged with pulsing anger.
Marcos frowned. “What the fuck?” Then he recognized Sebastián, and his expression relaxed into a smirk of recognition. “Oh, yeah. The boyfriend.”
“Damn right. And I’m just about to knock your fucking teeth out if you don’t keep your hands off her.” He stepped in front of me and right up to Marcos’s face.
Marcos straightened and hissed, “Fuck off.” His eyes blazed.
Shit. I knew Marcos wouldn’t back down. He didn’t take crap from anyone, much less if they provoked him. But even though Marcos was six feet tall, Sebastián still looked down at him.
“Stay the fuck away from her. I mean it.” Sebastián gripped Marcos’s shoulder forcefully. Marcos shoved his hand off without breaking eye contact.
Shit. Shit. I wedged myself between them, facing Sebastián. I looked over at the barman for help, but he glanced at Sebastián and smiled. Asshole. What the hell was this place? I turned to Sebastián.
“Sebastián, let it go,” I said. “Please,” I whispered.
He glared at Marcos. “That was your only warning.” He then clutched my hand and tugged me toward the back.
We cut through the crowd and I stumbled to keep up. He stopped at a hallway at the very back and I yanked my hand away. I was so mad I wanted to punch him.
“Let’s talk in there.” He pushed through a closed door behind me. What the fuck?
“You can’t just walk in there.”
“Camila, stop pushing my limits. I want to talk to you somewhere quieter,” he said, his nostrils flaring.
I stormed in without making eye contact. It was one of those VIP rooms reserved for private parties. Someone would walk in at any moment and kick us out. We would be on a banned list, and I would never be able to get in anywhere cool ever again. Asshole. I crossed my arms and pressed myself against the bar, close to the door and away from him.
“You know,” I said, “for someone who’s such a progressive negotiator, you’re more in line with a caveman.”
A muscle twitched in his jaw. Good. Now that he had ruined my night, he could brew in his own anger. I didn’t give a shit. He ran both hands through his hair, looking around.
“What the fuck, Camila.”
“What are you doing here? I thought you were busy,” I said. Shit. Shit. I would never hear the end of this now.
“That’s what you have to say? After what I walked into back there?”
“That wasn’t what you think it was.”
“I’m getting fucking tired of this argument. He was all over you. What the fuck?”
I looked away. Shit. “Someone’s going to walk in here. I don’t want to get kicked out.”
“It’s fine.”
“No, it isn’t. I want to go. I’m uncomfortable here.”
“I own this place,” he muttered through tight lips.
This time I looked straight at him. “You what? You own this place? As in, you own this whole bar?” Fuck. Of course he did. The design, the crowd, the asshole barman. It all added up. “Jesus, what else? What else do you own that I don’t know about?”
Yup. I walked right into that one, and realized as soon as the words came out. With one move, his hands were on my ass, lifting me onto the bar as he pressed himself between my legs. He smothered my gasp with his mouth, claiming mine as his tongue thrust between my lips. I stilled, shocked, blazing with anger and…dammit, annoyingly, so fucking turned on. He bit my bottom lip, breathing heavily as he pushed his hard-on against me. Desire exploded inside me, and my anger morphed into lust. I clenched my fists in his hair. His hands cupped my breasts over the silky fabric of my top, and my nipples throbbed against his palms. I breathed hard on his neck. He tugged down my zipper and peeled off my jeans, tracing his fingers up my thighs. Moist heat pooled between my legs as his mouth devoured mine. He unzipped his jeans, then slipped two fingers under the lace of my panties and ripped them off with one tug. My breathing stuttered. He parted my legs wider, squeezing the inside of my thighs, then he laid me back onto the bar, and his hand traced the path from my neck to my stomach. I felt completely exposed, but I didn’t care. I just wanted him to fuck me on top of that bar, feed the ravenous need I had for him. Somewhere in the back of my mind, a single bell chimed. Slow down. But his intoxicating scent, his hands, his mouth. They mixed together, blinding my senses, clouding my head.
His thumb stroked my clit. “You are so wet,” he muttered. “You drive me insane.” His voice was hoarse, sending goose bumps along my skin. He climbed over me as I watched him with hooded, spellbound eyes. He was so fucking sexy, all ruffled up, his hair a glorious mess. Lowering himself to me, he ravaged my mouth with his, then my neck. His tongue traced my collarbone, his lips devouring my blazing skin as I moaned. His mouth seized mine in a savage kiss while he spread my legs wider, his cock grinding against me. Then he thrust inside me and began moving, pumping hard, pushing me to the verge of climax. I yanked his hair harder, and a low groan sounded deep in his throat. Hot, broken breaths licked my neck as he slammed inside me, again and again.
“Yo
u. Are. Mine.” He pumped harder on the last word, and we came together, sweet breaths colliding against each other’s mouths.
He hugged me tight through the aftershocks of our climax. We stayed like that for a second, or an eternity, I couldn’t tell. He cupped my face, and his lips traced the line from my jaw to my mouth and kissed each corner. Our eyes met, and the dark rage from minutes ago was replaced by the deep stillness of a lake. I held his face in my hands, looking into his clear eyes. This man. Dammit. So possessive, dominant. Our worlds were incompatible in so many ways and yet, I couldn’t let go.
“What am I going to do with you?” I whispered. He pressed a soft kiss on my mouth.
“You’re going to stop fighting the fact that you belong with me, so your friend out there can live a long, happy life with someone else.”
“You can’t go around claiming me like I’m something you bought.”
“He had your hair wrapped in his fucking hand,” he muttered through his teeth. Pulling away, he turned to pick up his jeans before sliding them on. I sat up.
“Sebastián—”
“Look. I get that he’s your dance partner. But outside of work he doesn’t get to put his fucking hands on you.”
“Okay, yes. But you have to let me take care of that part. I know…that’s not what it looked like back there, but I promise you I will. Please trust me.”
He pressed his lips into a straight line, and I reached up and ran my fingers over his stubble. His beautiful face relaxed a fraction, and he helped me off the bar. I picked up my jeans and lifted up my ripped panties.
“I have no underwear.” I sighed. He gave me an innocent smile, and I shook my head, pulling my jeans on. “You’re lucky I like you so much.”
He came closer and circled his arms around my waist, bringing me to him, leaning his forehead to mine. “It may not make you lucky, but I love you,” he said, his expression serious. I froze, the air leaving my lungs at once.
