Page 123 of His Secret

“I know, but I really want to be here with you.”

He nods once. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“I guess I have to go to work.”

He smiles. “You most certainly do. Unless you want to be fired.”

I kiss his cheek, then the corner of his mouth. “What if I suck up to my boss?”

“You can try.”

I chuckle, my hand grabbing his. I intertwine our fingers,looking at the connection before I meet his gaze again. Bringing his knuckles to my lips, I plant a kiss on them.

He pulls my hand to his mouth and does the same.

“I still want to talk to you.”

My brows knit slightly. “Should I be worried?”

“No, but it’s a conversation we should have.”

“Do you want to tell me now?”

He shakes his head. “I’m sure you need to get home.”

I nod once. “I do. I need to…I think it’s time to talk to her.”

He doesn’t look happy or relieved. He doesn’t show almost any emotion. Then I realize he probably doesn't believe anything will come of it. He doesn’t have any hope.

Matías barely dips his chin in acknowledgement. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

I lean in to give him another kiss, and then I make my way to the living room where I put on my suit jacket and shoes.

Reaching for his hand, I give it a squeeze before kissing him one last time. “See you.”

“Don’t forget to call me when you shower,” he says with a wink.

I laugh before I open the door and walk out into the night air. I fight the euphoric, post-coital smile on my face as I cross his driveway and into my yard.

Steeling myself, I take a breath and twist the knob, only to find it locked.

I sigh and knock, waiting to hear her steps come closer. When several seconds go by, I knock even louder. Several more seconds pass, and I’m about to walk around to the back, but then I hear footsteps heading toward me.

The door opens, and instead of being met by the face of my wife, I’m met by the stern face of my father.

“Adrian,” he says, jaw clenching. “Nice of you to join us.”

Though I’m thirty, and at the door to a house I bought, I’m suddenly feeling like a child caught sneaking back into the house by his parents. My father’s always had that ability. The one that makes you feel like a kid even after you’ve become an adult. He’s a formidable man, and he knows it and takes pride in knowing people fear him.

I stare at him as he blocks the doorway. “Am I allowed in my own home?” I question, taking a step forward. “Why are you here?”

He finally steps back. “I’m here because apparently you are incapable of answering your phone when I call. I’m here because we need to talk.”

“Where’s Charlotte?” I question once I’m in the living room.

“In her room,” he says with a slight shrug, like he isn’t sure.

“I think driving out here was a little unnecessary.”

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