Total pages in book: 767
Estimated words: 732023 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 3660(@200wpm)___ 2928(@250wpm)___ 2440(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 732023 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 3660(@200wpm)___ 2928(@250wpm)___ 2440(@300wpm)
“I wrote you something.”
“A poem?” I melted against his hard chest. “Let’s hear it.”
“Not so much a poem as a love letter. A tribute to my princess.” He half-smiled. “It’s in my pocket, but it’s not ready.”
I reached for it. “Give it to me.”
He laughed, catching my wrists and pulling me close. “If you put your hands in there, I can’t promise I’ll let them out.”
I blushed, at a loss for a response. We’d been best friends a long time, and we were still a little new at the intimate parts. I laced our hands together, admiring his long fingers and the tattoo on the inside of one—a sketch of roses he’d done with his family name and the date of his parents’ death.
And inked on his inner ring finger, small enough so nobody like my father would notice, were our initials in black ink. I brushed my lips over his knuckles.
“God, I’ve dreamed of your mouth on me since your last visit.” His voice dropped. “Tell me you’re still my girl, Talia.”
I knew what he was asking, and although I’d assured him many times that I’d kept my virginity intact at school, there was always an edge to his voice when he asked. I put my cheek to his. It was easier to talk about sex without looking at him. “I’m still your girl.”
“Good.” The word came out on a growl. “I worry about those fraternity sharks circling someone as sweet as you.”
“Sharks don’t eat sweets,” I said with a smile. “The sharks are here—out for blood. Americans are boys compared to you. I’ve no interest in them.” I put my arms around him and nuzzled his neck. “I only think of you.”
He sighed. “How have we lasted this long?”
Even though most of my friends, both here and in the States, had lost their virginity, it was easy to save myself knowing I’d only ever give myself to one man—my best friend. As scary as my father’s grief had been after Mamá’s death, I still wanted what they’d had—an all-consuming devotion to each other, even now. As far as I knew, Papá had never so much as been on a date with another woman in the last decade. “Because it’s important to me,” I said. “I want to commit myself to you in every way once it’s time.”
He kissed my forehead. “It’s important to me too.”
I arched a brow at him. “Only because you’re afraid my father will find out we didn’t wait.”
He laughed lightly. “It’s true—I value my life. Luckily, even if we were tempted, the guards keep you in and me out.” He ran his fingers through the ends of my hair. “Our first time will be special, mi sol.”
I smiled quizzically. He hadn’t called me that before. “Your sun?”
“You’re always alight. That, and you hate the night.”
“Mmm. It rhymes. You are a poet.”
Diego knew me well, but then, he’d heard firsthand accounts of my night terrors until I’d left for boarding school. The shadows that tried to catch me, the lingering memories of a nine-year-old watching her mother take her last breath . . . and then there was his brother.
“Promise you’ll never come back here,” I said.
“I can’t.”
It was hard to believe Cristiano had once been the hero of my nightmares. Like the time, as a girl, I’d woken up screaming, and my mother had come running. She’d smoothed sweat-sticky hair off my face and asked me what I’d dreamed about.
“Monsters,” I’d told her.
I hadn’t noticed Cristiano, who’d been patrolling the property, standing in the dark doorway, until my mother had turned to him. “Are there monsters here, Cristiano?” she’d asked.
“Yes,” he’d said gravely. “But they’ll never hurt Natalia.”
My little heart had raced as fresh tears had filled my eyes. “How do you know?” I’d asked him.
“Because I’m here to protect you,” he’d answered. “And I’m scarier than any monster.”
Cristiano had chased away the monsters under the bed until he’d become one.
And Diego was the light.
“Will your nightmares return?” Diego asked.
Not wanting to worry him, I’d told him I didn’t have them while at school since they were less frequent and less frightening. Now that I was home, I expected they’d return, but there was nothing he could do about that, so I shook my head.
If I had my way, I’d be on a plane back to California before my nightmares could even catch up with me.
But I knew from experience—I could never completely outrun them.
Natalia
Under a starry sky, I walked away from the house, crossing our damp back lawn in heels. Lit from within, my father’s ballroom shimmered like a golden paradise to welcome the state’s elite. Town cars and limos lined the curved driveway, inching forward to meet the valet. Fountains out front glowed sky-blue, the water shimmering as it reflected hundreds of strung lights. It was how I imagined the gates of heaven—down to the large men in suits and earpieces guarding the entrance and scrutinizing invitations.