I reached for my drink just as she tipped it upside down, pouring what was left of my scotch in the grass. Leaping forward, I grabbed it out of her hands mid-stream, trying to salvage what was left, but it was too late.
I glared at her while rolling the glass in my hand. “I don’t need another mother, Adriana.”
“Not trying to be one. I just don’t want to have to carry your drunk ass upstairs. I’d hate to have to blow your dick off for chipping a nail.”
I didn’t want to smile. I wanted to grab the bottom of the hammock and flip her ass upside down, but my brain and my face miscommunicated somewhere, and I grinned.
I fucking grinned.
“You really should back off the booze. Excessive drinking can kill you, you know.”
“All the more reason.”
She let out a sigh. I knew that sigh. I’d heard it so many times in the past year, it’d become an old friend. A lonely, old, asshole of a friend who showed up when others stopped trying to figure me out. I couldn’t blame them. Hell, I couldn’t even figure me out.
“You should have a few. Maybe it would knock that chip off your shoulder.”
She eyed the glass still rolling in my hand. “No, I can’t have…I don’t drink.”
I could’ve called bullshit. Not twenty-four hours ago, she stood in a run-down motel room, taunting me with a bottle of cheap scotch. But something in her voice stopped me. A sliver of weakness that any other time I’d wedge my foot into and pry open. But now wasn’t the time.
“No, I meant, do you think about having kids?”
“I’m kind of tired,” she announced abruptly. Standing, she grabbed the glass out of my hand and tapped her nails against the side. “I’ll take this inside for you.”
She was gone before I could point out that it was barely seven o’clock. Whatever. It was a moot point. Her excuse, while transparent, peeled back another layer of raw truth. I’d leave her alone to lick her wounds tonight.
But the real Adriana was showing, and eventually there would be nowhere for her to run.
Chapter Seventeen
Adriana
“Adriana, stop.”
I had no idea what compelled me to obey. I was a grown-ass woman not an errant child, but Val’s voice stopped me mid stride, preventing my escape from his mandatory fun.
My grip tightened on the staircase banister. “Is something wrong?”
“I was hoping we could talk for a few minutes. Alone.”
Here it comes.
Clearing my throat, I peered over my shoulder, trying to look sorry. “Look, I didn’t mean to call her a whore. It just slipped out.”
Val squinted, his eyebrows drawing together. “What?”
“What?” I repeated. Because everyone knew when you were about to make an ass out of yourself, the best defense was a confusing offense. The trick was to bite your bottom lip and glance to the side. It activated some repressed Neanderthal instinct in men to pat us on the head and send us back to the cave while they congratulated themselves on being rulers of the universe.
He palmed the back of his neck, and I could see the wheels turning in his head. “What did you say?”
Nice try, Carrera, but I can dance around in circles with you all night.
“I said what because you said what.” Cue the lip bite. “You know, never mind.” Facing him, I waved a dismissive hand in the air. “What did you want to talk about?”
He blinked a few times before tilting his chin sideways. “Let’s sit down.”
The minute he turned his back, I smiled.
Works every time.
“Nothing good ever follows those words,” I muttered, following him into the same room we were ushered into when we arrived. Val motioned for me to sit, and I didn’t argue. Setting Brody’s empty glass on the coffee table, I sank onto the plush couch, running my hand over the expensive leather.
Val watched me from the wet bar, quirking an eyebrow as he poured a drink. “Are you always this suspicious?”
“Yes. Aren’t you?”
“Point taken.” Neither of us spoke as he poured tequila into a shot glass until it almost overflowed. Picking up a second glass, he paused before pointing the mouth straight at me. “If you tell me you drink this shit over ice, I’m disowning you.”
“First of all, you can’t disown me. You’re my brother, not my father.”
“Oh, Adriana…” My jaw tightened at the snide way he said my name. “I can do whatever I want.”
If he weren’t completely serious, I would’ve laughed. “Have you always had a god complex, or did it materialize with all of this?” Holding his stare, I gestured at all the pretentious excess surrounding us.
“So, what’s the second part?”
Biting my lip, I glanced to the side, adding in a hair twirl for good measure. “What?”
Val smirked and wagged a finger. “Adriana, never pull the same con twice. It makes you predictable.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning, I indulged your ‘confuse and deflect’ act once. Don’t insult my intelligence or test my generosity. I do have limits.”
Limits I couldn’t afford to test right now.
“Secondly,” I continued, glancing down at the twisted fingers in my lap. “My father—I mean, Esteban drank a lot. It turned me off to the stuff. So, thank you, but I’ll pass.”
Val remained quiet, and I wondered if I’d crossed another one of his imaginary lines. Finally, he picked the tequila bottle up, the muscles in his neck straining as he held the neck in a tight grip. “Gran Patrón Burdeos Añejo. Our father’s favorite.” His gaze flicked from the bottle to me. “I grew up on this stuff. Had my first drink when I was nine years old. Most fathers teach their sons how to ride a bike or catch a fish at that age.” Letting out a dry laugh, he shook his head. “Mine taught me the difference between fine tequila and piss water by making me drink shots until I blacked out.”
“Sounds like he was a real winner. Hate I missed out on that.”
His eyes narrowed. “Don’t act like the man you grew up with was Father of the Year, Adriana. He stole you from your mother’s arms.” He lifted the glass to his mouth, and just before taking a generous drink added, “Right after he put a bullet in her brain.”
I winced, his callous summary hitting a nerve. “Don’t you think I know that?” I hissed. “That’s become my legacy. Stolen from one sadistic fuck only to be raised by another. Esteban Muñoz lied to me my entire life, and for what? To get his kicks watching me grow up to hate my own family?” I slammed my palms on either side of me against the leather, the sound echoing all the way up to the vaulted ceiling. “Do you know how confusing it is to be me, Val? Six months ago, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. I would’ve shot you in the back while you walked in here. Conditioning like that doesn’t just disappear.”
“Yet here we sit, and I’m very much alive. Why is that, sister?”
Patronizing fuck.
“I don’t know.” I tried to glare at him, but rippled waves masked my view. It wasn’t until I scrubbed a hand over my face that I felt the dampness.