Page 39 of When Lies Unfold

Adopting a bright smile, I announce cheerily, “I already have a job, but I appreciate the offer.”

His jaw goes tight. Evidently, he doesn’t appreciate hearing a refusal. “It’s not up for negotiation, Miss Arias.” One corner of his mouth tips upward, as though he thinks fucking with my life is hilarious. “And now you’ll have two jobs.”

“I already have one job.” I don’t bother to disguise the animosity in my tone. “I don’t need two.”

His expression turns granite hard. Ice-cold prickles of unease dance along my skin as he circles the desk. A thick, intimidating air clings to him as he prowls closer, and my throat threatens to swell closed from fear.

“Too fuckin’ bad.” He draws to a stop in front of me. “And I already talked to Aarón. Told him you’d be workin’ solo from now on.”

“What?” I gape at him incredulously. “How dare you fuck with my life!”

His hand darts out faster than I can react, grasping my ponytail in his fist. In his other hand, he holds a gun beneath my chin. Our eyes war, mine spewing so much hatred and wishes for his demise, it’s a wonder he doesn’t shrivel up on the spot.

“You’re lucky you’re still breathin’, and that’s all thanks to me.” Sharp eyes drill into mine, his lips pressing thin. “Yet you haven’t once shown any gratitude.”

I grit my teeth so hard my molars ache, barely pushing the words out. “Probably because you keep sticking a gun in my damn face.”

His gaze grows squinty, darkening with annoyance, and the muzzle of the gun digs into the tender area beneath my chin. “You’ve got a lot of fuckin’ balls to say that kinda shit to me.”

The final thread barely holding my patience intact snaps. “You know what? Go ahead! I’ve faced death before and managed to survive, so if you’re that intent on killing me, just. Do. It.”

Fuck him for taunting me like this! To continue dangling that threat over me.

Anguish that still manages to edge its way in after all this time has my eyes burning with unshed tears. Wrapping my hands around his grip on the gun, I jab it deeper into my flesh. My voice is hoarse with anger and resentment. “Just do it, you bastard.”

I pinch my eyes closed, willing him to pull that trigger quickly. Memories flash in my mind from my previous life when every day was filled with threats.

Every single moment was tainted by the knowledge that it could be my last. That one more broken bone, one more brutal hit, could mean the end.

And at one point, I yearned for that final, lethal blow.

I thought the universe had finally taken pity on me, but perhaps this has all been a cruel joke. A ploy to make me complacent. To make me feel like I escaped and was granted a second chance.

Ice drips from his every syllable. “Open your goddamn eyes.”

Bracing myself for the inevitable, I pry them open, my gaze colliding with his hard, unyielding stare. His expression is impenetrable. “Better look at me when I pull this trigger.”

Our eyes hold for a long beat, my shallow breaths echoing in the room. His arctic gaze bores into me as if attempting to penetrate through to decipher my thoughts.

When he finally speaks, his voice is low and deceptively subdued. “You’re ready to die, huh?”

I don’t bother to answer him. Instead, I internally beg for this to be over quickly.

I send up a silent prayer to whatever higher being there might be to ease Sabrina’s sadness once she hears the news. She’s become my one friend in this life, and I’m grateful for the brief time I’ve had with her.

From beneath my hold on him, Santiago’s finger twitches on the trigger, and I mash my lips together to suppress any sound. I refuse to give him the pleasure or satisfaction of hearing me whimper in fear.

I fucking refuse.

Midnight-black eyes stare back at me while a muscle in his cheek flexes wildly. In the span of a heartbeat, I’m shoved back with enough force that I lose my balance and slam one hip against the edge of his desk.

Pain blooms in that area, but I barely register the sensation. I’m too busy wondering what happened and why he changed his mind.

He slides his gun into the holster at his back, never tearing his eyes off me. When his gaze drops briefly to my side, I realize I’m absently rubbing the sore spot on my hip. I immediately stop.

His fingers flex, then curl into fists at his sides as if he’s battling internal conflict over his decision not to kill me.

“Listen closely, Miss Arias. When you’re not workin’, you’re gonna be tendin’ to Alma since she seems to like you far more than the nanny. This way, you’ll be close, where I can keep track of you.”

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