I know it’s all excuses as I slip out into the sunny, dry afternoon, but I can’t dwell on it for long. I only have a few minutes to pull off the same feat I did yesterday—but this time, I don’t have to steal.
My mother won’t notice another charge on her credit card. She shops constantly, and I doubt she keeps excellent track of from where. I choose a different store from last time, not wanting to be recognized, and look around nervously as I try to pick a dress on the spot.
“Can I help you, miss?” A blonde sales associate, young and new-ish looking, approaches me.Good, maybe she won’t be too pushy.
“I need a last-minute dress for an event, and I’m in a hurry,” I tell her quickly.Not actually a lie, just skating the truth.“Um—do you have that one in a small? Or a 2, however it runs.” I point at a dress hanging near a display on the wall, short and black, made out of a tight-looking material with a scooped neck and one long sleeve. It looks daring and sexy—not as much as last night, but with the liner and red lips, it can have an edge all its own.
“I think so!” The blonde smiles at me, hurrying towards the dress. “We have a—yes! A size 2. Do you want to try it on, or—”
“No, I’m sure it’ll fit,” I tell her hurriedly. “Can you just ring me out?”
“Of course.” The girl looks inordinately pleased, and when we make it to the register, I discover why—the dress is even more expensive than the one I stole yesterday. I hand her my mother’s credit card with a flutter in my stomach, hoping she won’t ask for ID for such a large purchase, but she seems so happy to have made a sale that large that she doesn’t. She just runs the card, wraps the dress neatly in shiny gold paper and slips it into a stiff-handled bag, and hands it to me. “Have a nice day!” she chirps, and I force a smile before hurrying out of the store.
Once I’m out of sight, I pull the dress out, stuffing it in my purse and tossing the bag. I barely make it back to the spa before the fifteen minutes are up, and I see my mother waiting there for me with Elena, looking irritable.
“Well?” Her voice is tight and sharp for someone who just spent hours getting spa treatments. “Where’s your coffee? And couldn’t you have brought something for Elena and me as well?”
“I tripped and spilled half of it on the way here,” I lie quickly. “And I drank the rest. I’m sorry, I thought you might not want caffeine after the spa—”
“It’s the thought that matters,” she says stiffly. “But never mind. Let’s go to the shop next door, and then we’ll get lunch, girls.”
I’m very aware of the dress in my bag as we walk to the next store, but not as much as I was the last time. It was easier this time—it all felt easier, and I know that’s not necessarily a good thing. I know that I’m being bad, that how I’m behaving is wrong—but I can’t help rebelling against that thought by insisting in my mind that how everyone else is behaving is wrong, too. Scrubbing and primping me to be sold off to the man that best benefits my father is wrong. Treating my sister and me like accessories or dolls to be dressed up and wedded and having our lives manipulated is wrong. It’sallwrong, and I tell myself that I’m just doing the best I can, just trying to eke out some happiness and pleasure before all chance of it is taken away.
I’ve spent my life doing what everyone else wants me to do. This is my one and only chance to have a little bit of my own life for myself, and if it takes a little deception to do it, I’ll be damned if I feel bad about it. The only people I feel bad about deceiving at all are Elena and Niall, but I tell myself that it’s for their own good. Elena shouldn’t have to bear the weight of my secret, and Niall is better off not dealing with the emotional fallout of knowing the truth.
I feel like I’m counting the minutes for the rest of the day until I can sneak out again. I can barely sit still through dinner, barely focus on the conversations happening around me at the table. Elena wants to play a card game in the living room after dinner, and I lose soundly, making mistake after mistake because I can’t focus. All I can think about is seeing Niall again.
There are words for this, I know.Infatuation. Obsession.But does it really matter, if there’s an end date to all this? Does it matter if I’m illogically head over heels when he’ll leave no matter what?Surely there’s nothing wrong with enjoying these new feelings for the first time,I tell myself firmly. I have my whole life to be the woman I was raised to be. I can be young, in love, and reckless–just for a little while.
Once I’m able to retire to my room for the night, I get dressed quickly, slipping into the tight black dress. It fits me perfectly, and I opt for a pair of black leather flats tonight instead of heels, mindful of the walking I’ll have to do until I can get out to the road. I do my makeup in a hurry, swiping on the liner and the lipstick, fluffing up my hair until I’m satisfied with what I see in the mirror. And then, it’s time to go through the motions of sneaking out again.
Like last night, my heart is in my throat the entire time. But just like this afternoon, it feels easier. I know where to step, where to hide, the places the guards won’t look. I know how to time for their switch. And by the time I make it out to the road and flag down a car–this time an elderly gentleman who doesn’t seem inclined to ask as many questions as the woman last night–I feel that sense of elated freedom washing over me again, mixed with a healthy dose of adrenaline from my escape.
As I step out of the car onto the red-washed sidewalk, the neon gleaming down above me, I feel my first bit of hesitation.What if he’s not there? What if it’s just more like the men from the other night? What if he already met someone else?Just the image of walking into the bar and seeing him sitting next to some other woman is almost enough to make me turn and hail someone to take me back. Still, I suck in a deep breath and tell myself to stop being ridiculous. I remember him holding my hands in his, telling me that it was goodnight and not goodbye, and I step into theSangre de Ángel.
I see him immediately, before he sees me, and my heart nearly stops in my chest, fluttering with eager, excited palpitations. He’s alone, nursing what looks like a double-shot of tequila like last time, almost as if he’s waiting for me. The idea is thrilling, and I walk toward the bar, wondering how long it will take for him to see me.
I’m almost to him before he looks up, and his eyes widen briefly with what looks like surprise, as if he hadn’t expected to see me. I smile nervously, feeling the butterflies take off in my stomach and enter my bloodstream, my hands shaking as I see his gaze sweep over me appreciatively. I can see the heat in his eyes as I come to stand next to him, the way he turns towards me expectantly, but before I can motion to Manuel for a drink, Niall is already standing.
“Do you want to leave already?” I stammer, startled that he’s getting up before we’ve even said a word to each other. “I thought we’d have a drink—”
“Aye, a drink is fine, lass. But I’d like a cigarette, just now. Come outside with me?” His voice is rough, thick with that burr of an accent, and a shiver runs down my spine. I feel both nervous and excited, nerves jangling as I think of the night ahead, and I follow him as his strong hand slips through the crook of my arm. He leads me to the back door, out into the chilly desert night. I catch a whiff of his cologne and the warm leather of his jacket as he leans against the stone wall, lighting a cigarette in the darkness.
I want to taste the smoke on his lips, the bite of the tequila. I want to feel them against mine again, full and firm, and I step towards him, angling my body towards his as I tip my chin up for a kiss, my hand going to his chest.
To my surprise, Niall pulls away, covering my hand with his own as he blows out a breath of smoke. “Just a minute there, lass. There are things we need to talk about before we start kissin’.”
My heart skips in my chest again, a cold knot forming in my belly.What could there be to talk about? Did he really meet someone else?
“I—what—” I trip over the words, unsure what to say, but he’s already pushing ahead anyway, his dark eyes stern in the dim light as he looks down at me.
“Tell me the truth, Gabriela,” Niall says, his voice gruff. “Were you a virgin last night, before we slept together?”
15
ISABELLA
For a second, I’m so stunned that I can’t speak.How could he tell? I thought they couldn’t always tell.The story I’d heard about the girl who nearly fooled her husband comes back to me, and my stomach clenches.What did she do that I didn’t? “I—” I swallow hard, trying to think of a way to answer without admitting it, knowing that my reaction has already given me away. “Why would you ask that—”