Page 24 of Heart of a Villain

“Adrían, really?”

“Really, what?”

She nearly smacked him.

The car rolled to a stop in front of a gorgeous house, the exterior a mix of farmhouse and Scandinavian style. A theme she seemed to be picking up on was that, although these houses were immaculate, they weren’t designer showcases. They were lived in and teemed with the evidence and warmth of a family.

“This is a guest house?”

“Technically, it’s Ayesha’s old place,” he said, shutting off the engine. “It’s where she lived with the boys before she and Joel were married last year. Right now, me, Wren, and Giorgio’s brother are staying here, but he won’t be back until…well, honestly, he’ll probably show up later tonight.”

“Do I have to share a room with anyone?” she asked.

“You’re sharing with me.”

She picked at the skin on her palm. “Is sharing a room necessary? I mean, as far as how many rooms are available.”

“No.”

“So why are we sharing?”

“Because.”

She sighed. “Well, do we also have to share a bed?”

“Would you like to?”

“What about Wren? Won’t she feel,” she shrugged, “some kind of way about it?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll sleep in the middle.” He opened his door and stepped out on one leg. “I’ll bring in your bag.”

It took a moment for his response to catch up to her; how his bicep flexed when he moved was more mesmerizing than moonlight. Once upon a time, between those arms with her head on that chest had been the safest place in the world.

Despite the ease Julien and company gave her, the desire to have Adrían’s arms around her again rose like a dormant craving. Hopefully, Wren knew how good she had it, but something told her Wren probably felt as strongly for this man as he seemed to feel for Wren.

“Wait, what did you say?” she finally asked. “In the middle?”

He exited the car, came around to her side, and opened the door. “Go ahead inside. Our room is upstairs, the double doors at the end of the hallway.”

She remained put.

The last time she entered a dark, empty dwelling alone, things quickly went south.

This house clearly wasn’t her old apartment, and her brain seemed to accept that, but the message didn’t reach her legs. They appeared to believe that, if she went inside, the bogeyman would be waiting, standing between her and the block of knives in her kitchen.

“Querida?” Adrían took her hand and lightly passed his thumb over her knuckles. “What’s wrong?”

“I just don’t want to be disrespectful and go inside without you,” she insisted. “You know everyone better than I do. And why do you keep calling me querida?”

“Because you still are my querida.”

Her heart gave another jerk, and she felt herself on the cusp of a smile, but it vanished like a lost sneeze.

“Now,” he lifted her out of the car and set her on her feet directly in front of him, “behave for me.”

“You keep picking me up.”

“Tell me to stop.”

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