Page 64 of Scarred Souls

She hesitated before answering. “Because I learned the hard way that it wasn’t safe for men to be around me.”

I frowned. What the hell did she mean?

“Just let me up and I’ll explain, okay? You weigh as much as a grand piano.”

I did as she asked and sat on the side of the bed. Hope did the same, leaving a safe distance between us. The gap felt as wide as the Grand Canyon. Usually I’d be happy about that, but not tonight.

She tugged on the hem of her silk shorts. “There was this guy at Princeton, Simon. He was in my study group, so I saw him along with a few others once a week when we’d meet up at the library. I liked him a lot, probably because he was everything Jorge wasn’t. Sensitive, funny, kind. One time, when we were looking for books in a quiet aisle, he finally made a move and kissed me.” Hope gave me a sad smile. “My first kiss at twenty years old. Ridiculous, right?” She inhaled a deep breath. “Simon never contacted me after. Then he didn’t show up at study group the next week or the one after that. When I asked around, no one had seen or heard from him. Not long after, his body was found.” Her stricken eyes met mine. “He’d been tortured before being killed.”

My fingers dug into the mattress. “Ortega?”

She nodded. “It was his way of sending me a message.”

That bastard.

“One of my bodyguards had noticed Simon and me getting close and told Jorge. We weren’t engaged then, but he’d made his intentions clear. He’d always acted like I was his property. That us ending up together was as inevitable as the sun setting each day. I should’ve guessed he’d do something violent if he found out about Simon.”

I clicked my tongue. “That kid’s death isn’t your fault.”

“It is. I knew what Jorge was capable of. It was stupid to even flirt with another guy.” Hope pressed her lips together. “After Simon, Jorge convinced my father that we should get married as soon as I finished my studies and returned to Mexico. Once Carlos agreed to the union, there was no getting out of it.”

“When Ortega visited you in Jersey”—my jaw tightened—“did he force himself on you?”

“No, thank God. Despite it being okay for Jorge to fuck and murder his way through Mexico, Carlos had insisted I remain a virgin until marriage.”

Relief flooded me. The thought of that asshole even breathing the same air as Hope made me simmer with rage.

“I had less freedom than a nun, and my first time was doomed to be with a sadist. This is so messed up”—her brows drew together—“but I knew Jorge would get enjoyment from claiming my virginity and making it hurt, so I took that away from him in the only way that wouldn’t get another man killed. I ordered a few different toys online, then spent a whole lot of time alone in my room at night learning about my body.” She grinned, and it was full of mischief.

I really liked seeing Hope’s playful side. After everything she’d been through, that she was able to appreciate a moment of light amid the dark was a credit to her resilience. And the thought of her using those toys to get herself off? That caused all kinds of inappropriate images to inundate my mind.

While we were talking about her sex life, there was something I needed to know, and I hoped she’d be honest about it.

“You and that schmuck Enrique. You’ve never been together?”

What I’d heard him discussing with his pal in the restroom of Javi’s worried me. Hope might think I was overreacting about his possible link with the cartel, but if she had a close relationship with Enrique and it risked her safety, it was important that I knew.

“No. He’s interested. I know that. It just doesn’t feel right.” She scrunched her nose. “There’s no spark, you know? It doesn’t make any sense. On paper we’d be perfect together. He’s good-looking, has a nice family, and we get along great. Sometimes, I wonder if there’s something wrong with me.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you. It doesn’t always make sense, the people we’re attracted to.”

Case in point: me wanting to tie up a cartel boss’s daughter and do ungodly things to her body. Hope and I were the very definition of a poor match. It didn’t stop me from wanting her.

Hope lifted one shoulder. “Even if I wanted to have a relationship with Enrique, it’s not worth the risk. Not after what happened to Simon. Call me paranoid, but I’ve never shaken the feeling that Carlos or Jorge will find me one day, and I refuse to put anyone else’s life in danger because of their association with me.” She sighed wistfully. “So it’s just me and my harem of BOBs. That way, no one gets hurt.”

“Wait.” I tilted my head. “Are you telling me you’re still a virgin?”

She looked at me as if I were a dumbass. “I thought I just explained that I obliterated my hymen years ago. You’ve seen inside my drawer.”

“But you’ve never been with a man?”

“Does that matter?”

“Yes, it matters. We almost”—I gestured to the bed—“Christ, Hope. Why didn’t you say something? Were you going to let me fuck you?”

“I don’t know.” She glanced at the middle of the bed like she was imagining us tangled in her sheets. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” I growled, dragging my hands over my face. “Your first time shouldn’t be with someone like me.”

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