Page 97 of Falling with Grace

I paced my room, my hands in my hair.

Birds sat on the top of the roof, their soft melody falling into my open window as the breeze blew through my curtains.

My wide eyes greeted the morning sun with his lips pressed against mine, spinning in my head on repeat as though I were on a never-ending merry-go-round intermingling with Carlos' empty eyes.

What if he told Nadia?

Miguel was the only one who regarded me with the look Elias had given me hours ago. The distinction was that Miguel neither cared nor possessed control over the pain and suffering inflicted upon me; in fact, he even contributed to it out of some desperate and twisted compulsion.

Yet, I'd never kissed Miguel or entertained the thought despite what he did to me.

"Oh my god." I bit into my lower lip and tipped my head back, collapsing onto the bed, my feet brushing against the cool floor.

Why did I kiss him?

An ache gnawed at the edges of my consciousness, an unrelenting whisper that wove throughout the fabric of my psyche.

My fingers toyed with my lower lip, pressing its center and folding it in two.

Would she insist I go back into the shed?

A woman positioned next to a man in power held more influence than she realized. Unless, of course, she happened to be Nadia... She wasn't the type to be oblivious to the power she held at her fingertips.

A pinched pain settling along my breastbone.

I'm so stupid.

And then he rejected me.

I groaned as I rose, fixating on the door—the sole barrier between him and me, my stomach growling with a cacophony of popping and groaning.

What if he's angry?

Butterflies fluttered in my belly, entwining with the hunger gnawing at me.

I can do this.

The cold metal doorknob turned in my shaking grip, and the door swung open on its well-oiled hinges.

Black shoes, polished to a shine. Suit pants, creased with a sharp line down the center, led up to a glossy black belt embellished with a buckle and a black button-up vest covering his shirt.

I swung the door shut without sparing a glance at his face.

Why is he here?

Why does he have to stand right there at this very moment?

His knuckles tapped out a staccato rhythm against the wooden barrier. "Grace."

Elias' throaty voice caressed my skin, sending shivers cascading in waves. "Can I come in?"

Can he…

He's never asked before.

My breaths rushed in and out, my head swimming in a haze as I staggered toward the farthest corner of the room. I sank into it, my backside hitting the floor.

The doorknob twisted...

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