The only thing that saves me from having to come up with something inane to say, likenice to meet youto Isabella, when I still remember the taste of her on my tongue is the sound of the lady of the house calling all the guests to dinner. I find myself mercifully seated partway down the dinner table, several seats away from Ricardo, his wife, and his daughters, far enough that I can’t hear what they’re talking about—if anything—over the general conversation.
The food is delicious, but I couldn’t say what was served. I’m too preoccupied with the turn the night has taken to taste anything, even as well-curated as the meal is. Every dish comes with wine pairings, something I’m far more interested in, despite the fact that the taste of red wine takes me straight back to that night on the dunes with Isabella when I gave her that fucking necklace and made love—no,fucked—her on the blanket under the stars.
I can’t look at her, force myself not to hear the soft sound of her voice further down the table. I grit my teeth against the angry sense of betrayal, reminding myself of how close I am to going back home. Back to Boston—and far away from her, the woman who I thought had helped me escape my heartbreak.
The moment dinner is concluded with some kind of sweet cake and sweeter wine, and the guests break away to start dancing as the music begins again, I look for an escape. The answer comes in the sight of the double doors leading out to the back gardens, and I head straight there before Ángel can intercept me again, half-drunk on tequila and wine and needing out of the hot, too-stuffy room.
Needing, more than anything, to be as far away from Isabella as I can fucking get.
24
ISABELLA
Icould barely eat a bite at dinner. I’m sure that pleased my mother, but if she’d known the reason—
I can’t believe this is happening.All this time, the man I’d been sleeping with, the one I thought I’d successfully hidden my real identity from—was working with my father. Here, in this house, at the same time as me.My father’s protectiveness backfired, I think, biting my lower lip almost hard enough to draw blood in order to keep hysterical laughter from bubbling up. If he hadn’t told me to stay in my room when his meetings were happening and kept me so carefully locked away, I would have known who Niall was. I wouldn’t have slept with him—and maybe not with anyone. I don’t know if I would have met anyone else who would have put me enough at ease the way he did.
But then—I wouldn’t have gotten to be with him.
I feel torn in two, a tangle of riotous emotions that I can’t sift through just now. I can’t wish away what happened between Niall and me, and I don’t want to. The one truth I told him was that the time I spent with him was the best of my entire life. But now—I can’t deny that we’re both very much in danger.
If my father finds out, it won’t just be me who’s punished. I think Niall knows that, and he won’t tell on us—but what if someone else figures it out?
He must hate me now, but that doesn’t mean I want anything to happen to him.
When I see him slip out into the back gardens with no one else noticing, so far as I can tell, I take that chance. “I need some air,” I whisper to Elena. “Don’t let anyone know I’ve gone.”
“Of course.” She smiles at me, nursing her glass of sparkling cider, looking around the room for handsome boys to flirt with. I slip away from her, out into the cool, floral-perfumed night, and I see him almost immediately. He’s standing near the garden fountain, his back to the house, and I stop a foot from him as I try to think of what to say.
“What are you doing here?” It’s the only thing that comes out, and I see him stiffen at the sound of my voice, but he doesn’t turn around.
“You shouldn’t be out here,Isabella.”
Tears prick my eyes, my hands clenching in the tulle of my skirt. Sharp-edged diamonds prick at my palms, but I ignore it. I’d rather bleed on the dress than let him see me cry right now. I’d wanted to tell him my real name so badly, to hear him say it, but not like this.
Never like this.
“You didn’t answer my question.” My voice trembles; I can’t help it.
“You heard your brother.” Niall still doesn’t turn around, his hands shoved in his suit pockets, his shoulders stiff. I’ve never seen him in a suit before, only his dark jeans and leather jacket. While I prefer that look, he’s devastatingly handsome tonight. “I was arranging a business deal with your father.” He clears his throat. “I could ask you the same, Isabella.”
“This is my home.” I bite my lip, still trying to stem the tears, to ignore the derision in his tone when he says my name.
“Not what are you doinghere. What the fuck were you doing in a dive bar picking up strange men?” He turns then as he asks the question, pinning me with his dark blue gaze. There’s something judgmental in his voice that I’ve never heard before, and it makes me prickle.
I lift my chin haughtily, stung, and glare back at him. “That’s none of your business,” I hiss, taking a step closer.
“Oh, I think it’s very much my business.” Niall’s voice is sharp as a knife and just as cutting. “Seeing as how you tricked me into taking your virginity. I wasn’t angry when it was Gabriela Rodriguez who tricked me, but Isabella Santiago—that’s a very different story.” His eyes narrow. “Now I’m fucking furious because you’ve made me risk everything, including my fucking life, and I never had a choice in the matter!”
His voice rises slightly, and I flinch. “If you want to have it out with me, fine!” I snap back. “But not here, not so close to the house. Come on.” I gesture to him and then move down the stone path towards the hedges further back without waiting to see if he follows.
If he doesn’t, then I suppose I can have a good cry in the shrubbery as best as I can without messing up my makeup. But if he does—
A part of me very much wants to lay everything out on the table, both Niall and I. At least then, we can part ways without any more deception. It’s not as if it helps me now, anyway.
Niall looks at me when we reach the hedges as if he’s never seen me before, and I suppose, in a way, he hasn’t. I let out a breath as I look at him, my hands still clenched in my skirt.
“I’m fucking cursed,” he growls. “Mob princesses—”