Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 123579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 618(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 412(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 618(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 412(@300wpm)
“Sofie?” A dark-haired man about my height, maybe a little shorter when I’m wearing my Louboutins, stands behind me. “I thought that was you.”
“Esteban?” My heart drops like mercury in a thermometer, plummeting from tropical to subzero.
“I can’t believe it’s you.” He pulls me close, an arm around my waist before I can stop him. “It’s been years.”
He dips his head to smell my hair, a long inhale like he’s absorbing me through his senses. I’m still frozen. Every fiber of my being screams at me to pull away, but my body can’t move, can’t catch up to the alarms going off in my head.
“I hoped I would see you.” His accented voice is husky in my ear. “But after all this time, I didn’t think I actually would.”
He pulls back, just enough to study my face, but keeps our bodies interlocked. His dark eyes probe mine, searching for trace elements of what we had in Milan years ago.
He won’t find them.
“Let me go, Es.” My body finally wakes up enough to struggle against his tight hold.
“Sofie, we should talk.” His eyes become earnest, a familiar desperation I used to think was all about me, but isn’t. Everything with Esteban is about Esteban. “I’ve missed you. All these years, I’ve missed you.”
“I asked you to let me go, Es.” I harden my voice so he’ll know I mean it. “I don’t want a scene tonight.”
“A scene? No, of course not.” His hold relaxes, but he doesn’t relinquish me. “Are you alone, querido?”
“No, she’s not,” Trevor’s deep-voiced reply comes from behind us. He stretches his hand to me, eyes sliding between Esteban and me. For a second, Esteban’s hold tightens, like he won’t let go, but after a few moments of Trevor’s hard eyes drilling into him, I’m free. I step away, taking Trevor’s hand gratefully and putting much-needed space between my former lover and me.
“You okay, darlin’?” Trevor’s eyes soften on me.
“I’m fine,” I whisper up to him, a small smile crooking my mouth. His returning smile lasts only a second before he goes back to studying the silent man watching us.
Esteban’s eyes drop to my hand linked with Trevor’s, a humorless smile curving his sensual mouth. How I used to love that mouth and the wicked things he used it for on me. I loved his swarthy skin, his dark eyes. Now I can’t look at him without feeling sick to my stomach. We had some good times, but the bad cast a wide, dark shadow over anything good we ever shared. It was all lies. He is all lies.
“Sofie, aren’t you going to introduce us?” Esteban’s eyes rake my body with familiarity before drifting to Trevor. He isn’t subtle, and I feel Trevor tense at my side.
I clear my throat, wanting to get this over with so we can just go to our table and try to salvage an evening that started with such promise, but has soured and curdled like milk gone bad before the expiration date.
“Of course.” With my free hand I gesture toward Esteban. “Trevor, this is Esteban Ruiz, a photographer I worked with a lot when I first started out. Esteban, this is Trevor Bishop. My date.”
I say the last two words deliberately, being as clear as I can that I want nothing to do with him anymore. It hasn’t worked in the past. He is part of the reason I’m so protective of my cell number. He always manages to find it. Always manages to find me. After all these years, I’d hoped he’d stopped looking, stopped trying. Has he been following me?
Esteban extends a tanned, slim hand to Trevor, a smug smile on his handsome face.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Bishop.”
Trevor ignores the hand politely extended, turning his attention back to me.
“Sofie, our table is ready.”
The obvious snub has no effect on Esteban except to make him smile wider as his hand drops to his side.
“I’m ready.”
I look up at Trevor, searching for the easy warmth we shared before this skeleton from my past slithered out of the closet. His eyes, though, are cold and stony on Esteban. What does he sense in him? Trevor sees more than most men. He’s more discerning than most men I’ve met. I know from very personal experience that Esteban is not a good man. From the way Trevor looks at him like he’s a rodent at the dinner table, I think he sees past the handsome façade to the rotten core.
We’re turning to leave when another voice from the past cracks into the tight silence the three of us occupy.
“Sofie Baston?” A petite, dark-haired woman demands from Esteban’s side. She might be coming from the ladies’ room or from the street. It really doesn’t matter. All that matters is that Seville Ruiz is here now, her eyes as alive with hatred for me as they were the last time we saw each other.