Like this, she was peaceful.
He wanted her to have more of that.
Peace.
Someone who gave a fuck.
He wanted to be that person.
Carefully, he dropped a soft kiss to her shoulder, and the corner of her mouth. He swore he saw her lips quirk into a smile in her dreams, but he couldn’t linger any longer than he already had.
“See you soon, sweetheart,” he murmured.
Before he found another reason to stay—wasn’t the woman sleeping in the bed reason enough?—Chris headed out of the bedroom, checking the hallway first. An empty hall stared back at him, thankfully. He closed the bedroom door behind him without making a sound.
Down the hall though?
Another door clicked.
Chris looked that way, but saw nothing.
Someone going back to bed?
God.
He fucking hoped so.
13.
The next morning, Valeria stepped into the large dining room, surprised at how quiet it was considering how many people were staying at the home with them for the weekend. She didn’t have to wonder for long what caused the stillness when her gaze landed on the man sitting at the head of the table.
Jorge scowled at the older man who brought his breakfast to him. “Took long enough, don’t you think?”
“Sorry, sir. Would you like your coffee—”
“Now.”
His voice, slurred and harsh, told the truth. Jorge was hung over, and that rarely spelled good things for anyone else in his direct vicinity. The man loved to drink, but hated to deal with the morning after because of it, too.
The only good thing about his hangover?
Jorge barely paid Valeria any mind.
She joined them at the table, willing to ignore she hadn’t seen her husband at all the night before, and had no idea when he returned to the home. It meant she spent her entire evening and morning without him, and that wasn’t a bad thing.
Not that she had been lonely.
Across the table, Chris worked on buttering a bagel as one servant poured him a cup of coffee. He smiled up at the woman pouring his coffee, nodding. “That’s good, thank you. I’ll prepare it the way I like it.”
“If you’re sure ...”
“No worries, I have it.”
“Where is my cream?”
Jorge’s bellow echoed down the table and silenced the rest of the people trying to enjoy their breakfast. A lot of them weren’t any better or worse than Jorge if Valeria was to believe what Chris had told her the night before.
He had no reason to lie.
She might have been sorry for them and the headaches they had, but she didn’t give a shit. And given her husband was busy snapping at anyone who didn’t move fast enough for his liking, or dared to breathe in his direction, she also had better things to do.
Like stare at Chris.
He looked back.
It was insane.
Foolish.
His wink from across the table was enough to make her crazy, and hot all at the same time. God knew she had spent more than enough hours the night before beneath this man, letting him learn all the parts of her body he wanted, and still ... somehow, she wanted more.
Definitely insane.
There was no other explanation for why Valeria seemed willing and ready to get Chris between her thighs as soon as she could. Not when she knew each time was yet one step closer to being caught, which meant the end of her life.
Not that it mattered.
No one noticed her staring.
Or his.
Chris’s lips quirked up at the edges, and Valeria had to glance down at the empty plate in front of her because of it. The flood of heat that traveled straight down to her pussy, making her thighs clench under the table as she tried to soothe that sudden ache, was dangerous.
And addicting.
She had forgotten what sex should be until Chris. A part of her thought it would never be good again—that she wouldn’t want for it, or a man, again because of the hell Jorge put her through. She had forgotten about the things she wanted, and deserved, because she was too busy trying to survive. Or even, taking care of someone else’s needs, like her child. Although, she didn’t regret that. Ever.
With little effort at all, Chris reminded her that she was very much a woman with needs, and one who wanted them fulfilled. She should be grateful for that, and she was ... but it also scared her.
Everything about this terrified her.
Trust me.
His words rang in her mind.
Valeria wouldn’t soon forget them.
She couldn’t.
Glancing across the table again, she found Chris tipping his coffee up for a drink. Over the rim of the mug, while everyone else around them was trying to avoid Jorge’s morning wrath, Chris watched her with a knowing glint in his eye.
That look said soon.
It murmured beautiful things.
It promised, too.
Hope, Valeria realized.
That’s what she was feeling in those moments—hope. As traitorous as it was, and as destructive as it might be. Because what might happen, she wondered, if she did get that freedom Chris promised her.
What would happen with him?
With her?
For her child?
She had never dared to hope before.
Now, it was all she felt.
Because of him.
• • •
“But have you explained to Papá what you’re planning yet?”
“Why, so he can ruin the Canadian deal?”
“Jorge—”
“Samuel, I told you how this will work. Didn’t I?”
The Spanish between the Lòpez brothers flowed fast, and while Valeria was fluent, her years away from Mexico and not needing to speak her mother tongue sometimes made it difficult for her to follow along when two or more people spoke quickly. Her steps slowed coming down the stairs of their ranch home, so she could focus on just the conversation happening between Jorge and his brother in the kitchen.
“He’s already planned Abril’s wedding to Roberto García,” Samuel said, a sigh following his words. “If you think by ruining this arrangement, he’s made with our rivals will only piss them off, then you are mistaken, brother.”
“Have you considered that’s what I want?”
“Excuse me?”
Jorge let out a bitter laugh. Valeria shivered. Her husband was a lot of things, and a bastard was at the top of the list. He didn’t care who he had to hurt on his way to the top as long as that’s where he landed at the end of it all.
His family?
People he should care for?
Those he proclaimed to love?
Fodder.
That’s all they were to him.
Things to use.
“That’s what I want, Samuel,” Jorge said, his tone thick with pleasure at his plan coming together. “Finally, this will be the message I need to send for it to be clear where Papá and I stand—he is no longer running this organization. I am.”
“You’re looking for a problem, then.”
Valeria knew better than to spy, and yet, she stayed right where she was. Sometimes, eavesdropping was the only way she got any information. No one ever thought to inform her because what did it matter? She was a woman, nothing more. Jorge’s wife—his thing to do with what he wanted, whether anyone cared what happened to her.
A part of her figured she needed to listen to Abril more and take the woman’s advice. If she planned to make it out of here alive, then she would use everything to her advantage.