“Son of a mother trucker,” I stammer out, really annoyed with the fact that I didn’t find something to use as a crutch when I didn’t do the one-legged hop inside my room. No way was I going to face Santiago Martinez looking like I couldn’t use my two feet and walk out of what I’m assuming must be his penthouse.
“Oh no, you don’t. No getting hurt a second time on my watch.” Santiago comes barreling towards me, and I swear to all things holy the man is a force to be reckoned with. His jaw is made of steel, his eyes hot and fiery. No shirt, so his muscles are on full display, his broad shoulders muscular in a way you know he has no problem working out, eight-pack washboard abs. Which, by the way, how is that even possible? I figured when I saw them on television, magazines, or social media, they were airbrushed. Clearly not the case here. The two lines that slide into a “V” along with the gray sweatpants are the last thing I see before I’m swooped into his arms. How that’s even possible, I have no idea, but I am, and my arms are looped around his neck, worried that my weight may be too much and he’ll drop me on my good ankle. A double whammy is not what I’m after.
“I can walk. I was doing fine until you macho-manned your way through the house.” I don’t bother thanking him for taking care of me, not with the inexcusable behavior he threw my way last night. In fact, I move my hands from around his neck, not wanting to feel his smooth, muscular skin, or admit what it does to me either. Nope, no way, no how. I need to move, and fast. If he’d let me down, I’d call a car service, get out of his way forever, figure out what the hell really happened last night, and start over.
“Keep telling yourself that.” I’m pouting, there’s no other explanation, crossing my arms over my chest while looking at him and seeing a grin tug at his lips, eyes on the curve of my breasts that are only amplified with how I’m situated.
“Oh Jesus, you hated me yesterday. Now you’re this way. What the hell is your problem? You’re giving me whiplash.” I lay my arms in my lap. If he drops me, well, I’ll have to deal with that when it happens. Maybe I’ll land on my ass. There’s enough cushion back there to break my fall. Santiago ignores my question, which is just as well. There’s nothing to say. The sooner I’m closer to the door, my bag, and shoes, the faster I’ll be in the comfort of my own home. My eyes stray away from his, not wanting to see the glare or smolder. The man is a damn conundrum.
Instead, my eyes are glued to my surroundings as I try to ignore how good he smells and feels. I’m more stunned by the other side of beauty in the room we’re currently walking in. Excuse me, Santiago is walking in, seeing as how I’m firmly ensconced in his arms. The penthouse is completely decked out. I mean, there’s a Christmas tree in the corner, lights on, fully decorated, a star on the top. There’s even garland strung here and there, not overbearing but enough to give a bit of holiday cheer, exactly what I wouldn’t expect. I mean, Christmas is only a few days away, and even my tree isn’t up. It was hard to get in the spirit when it’s just you out in LA while your family is still in Nevada, my own doing of course. My parents offered to send a plane ticket, the saying goes,“Obstinate, headstrong girl!”Obviously, it’s why I’m in the situation I’m in now.
“Well, aren’t you full of surprises.” I’m unable to bite my tongue. Santiago hums his reply, choosing not to speak as he makes his way towards the couch. “I think you’re going in the wrong direction; the door is that way.” I point to where I’ve cased out where things are in his beautifully, well-designed home.
“Nope, we’re going to sit right here, and we’re going to figure this out together.” He makes his point as the backs of his knees hit the seat of the couch and he sits down, my rear at his crotch, feeling something I was least expecting. My head whips towards his. “Ignore it. I am,” he grunts. This man. I can’t figure out what to do with him, and I’m not sure that I want to either, but with the way he’s kept his arms surrounding my body, apparently, I’m not leaving anytime soon.
FOURTEEN
Santiago
“Cadence,start from the beginning. Things aren’t adding up. Even I’m not a fool enough to believe you’re an escort or a hooker. I’m sorry I insinuated that. The only substantial reason I can give you is my brother. He’s a dick of epic proportions.” Cadence huffs out a laugh. I’m guessing she’s currently thinking no one can beat that position quite like I am.
“Something tells me the apple didn’t fall far from the tree. This would be easier to talk about if your hard-on weren’t currently poking my ass, you know?” She doesn’t help the fact that while I just jacked my cock to thoughts of her, that delicious ass of hers is wriggling in my lap, doing nothing to help the piece of flesh to calm down.
When I heard the door to Cadence’s room opening, I gave her a moment. The doctor mentioned she may need crutches or she might not. I went ahead and had some ordered just in case. I’m currently waiting for them to be delivered. It’s why I was sitting at the breakfast bar, closest to the door, not wanting her to be woken up by unnecessary noises. That all stopped when I heard her struggle with walking.
“Start from the beginning. I can promise you this—I am nothing like my fucker of a brother. He’d have taken advantage of the situation that was presented to himself yesterday, though maybe you wouldn’t be injured like you are now,” I tell her, honestly. In some way, the reason she fell was my fault, yelling at her, threatening her, demanding that she leave. It’s the reason why she’s currently sporting a black eye, a sprained ankle, and what I’m sure is a dented ego.
“I don’t want to talk about it. You had the opportunity last night. You chose to think the worst.” She attempts to wiggle off my lap, this time making sure not to give me a better view of her breasts. Too bad she doesn’t realize that it only shows off her legs even more.
“Christ, if this is how you want to play it, I’ll get Rachel’s number from Alejandro and do my own digging.” I loosen my hold around her body, hoping that I give her time to gather her thoughts and she will tell me the whole story.
“Santiago, if I can call you that and not Mr. Martinez. We both know you’ll do that regardless of what I do and don’t tell you.” When she goes to move off my lap this time, I allow it and stand up with her. I don’t touch on the fact that she’s correct. I’ll be doing my own brand of research mainly with my brother and who the fuck this Rachel person is and how they sunk their claws into the sweetness that is Cadence.
“Stay here,” I tell her when I hear the hum of the elevator that leads to the foyer of my penthouse. You need a key or code to get up to this floor, yet it still has a door much like any other home would have, and in this instance, I know it will only be a matter of moments until there is a knock on the door. The crutches I ordered as well as a few other things for Cadence will be here. I assumed she wouldn’t want to wear high heels or the same clothing she’s been in for well over twelve hours. Shoes were easy to assess. All I had to do was grab the heels she had on to give me the size. Clothes, on the other hand… There was no way I was getting close enough to look at her tag. Instead, I made a quick call to my mother, letting her know everything that happened. Her praying while cussing up a storm probably didn’t do much in our religion. That’s when I asked for her advice on how to fix this situation but also what to order for her in the way of clothes as well as a size. It was not a fun conversation, to say the least, but I’m pretty sure Alejandro will get more than he bargained for this time around. Plus, what I’ll be giving to him, he’ll be more than hurting, needing some poor unsuspecting woman to take care of him, no doubt.
“You can let go of me now. I’m going to my purse. I need to make a phone call.” Cadence walks with my hand in hers until we’re by her shoes and purse that are on the barstool next to the one I abandoned to meet her in the hallway.
“Be careful,” I tell her before leaving her. Clearly, the woman is fiercely independent. Not that it’s a turn-off, a fact that I’m coming to realize is a quality I’m liking a little too much.
“Yeah, sure, okay.” The attitude and snark she throws has me shaking my head as well as grinning. Cadence isn’t backing down from her stance either, so it seems.
FIFTEEN
Cadence
Santiago is full of surprises.The way he wouldn’t let me go, holding me to him, I cannot wrap my head around the whirlwind that has become my life in the past week. It’s hard to breathe around him. His presence dominates every aspect of my being. How I’m able to string a sentence or two together is beyond me. I mean, seriously, shirtless and gray sweatpants, a Christmas tree in the corner? He’d be perfect if he didn’t think I was a hooker.
“What the hell?” I lose my balance a smidge. Standing on one foot for so long will make a girl do that. My purse that was on the chair goes tumbling down. Damn myself for not closing the zipper, and just my luck, too, because as I start to bend down to gather up the items, mainly my phone because that’s what is an absolute necessity at this point in time, I don’t look at anything else, not the paraphernalia that I’m ignoring. No way am I even touching that. Not the lube in a single-size packet. And the condoms. Seriously, five? The cough drops. What could those even be used for? Or the round ring contraption. But you know what? I don’t want to know. I’m done. My luck sucks. This is the case in point. There’s absolutely nothing that could go worse right now than where I’m already at.
“Look at me, Cadence.” Okay, I take that back. If this is the world coming at me from each and every angle, it can fuck right off. I don’t do what Santiago says in that dominating, authoritative voice. My phone becomes blurry. I furiously blink eyes because I will be damned if Santiago sees me wallow in self-pity.
“No.” My voice is cracking, emotion taking over, and I hate myself a little bit more. How could I be so stupid to think money could come so easily, that my dream was in the palm of my hand? I could feel it, taste it, and went after it. If this has taught me anything at all, it’s that the universe is waving a flag stating ‘Fuck you’.I bring my phone closer to my face, attempting to gain focus so I can unlock the damn thing. Another thing on my laundry list of items to get taken care of, replacing it with one that holds a longer charge, one that’s not so slow and five years old. That’s why when I bring it up, trying to unlock it, I see that it’s dead. “If the world could swallow me whole right about not, it would be better,” I tell myself more than Santiago.
“Cadence, cariño, look at me.” Fingertips touch my chin, tipping it upwards. My eyes close for more than the reason of hiding from him. Santiago’s touch is hypnotizing and magnetizing wrapped together. Butterflies are swirling in more than just my stomach; it’s a whole body sensation.
“I… Can I use your phone?” I look at Santiago’s face this time, unable to hold back any further, allowing my tears to overflow.
“You can, but first we’re going to talk. I want all the information, from the source, which is you, then I’m going to make things right, okay?” His eyes leave mine momentarily, his cheeks hollowing out, annoyance creeping in with the way his jaw is set in stone yet again. I’ve been on that side of his wrath enough that my head shakes, the universal sign of telling him no. I don’t want him to yell. I don’t want to fall again. The only thing I want is the comfort of my bed, the sheets and comforter pulled over my head, flannel pajamas warding off the cold air as I cry to my heart’s content.