Page 28 of Beautiful Dangerous

“Jesus Christ…” he groans. “You’re killing me here!”

I push him back against the pillows, my hand grasping his neck. “If I wanted to, I could, kill you. Just being here, like this, with me, that could very well be your death sentence, but you already know that, don’t you?”

He grins, his fingers wrapping tightly around my wrist. “Messed-up sex gets me off. And this is about as messed-up as it gets. Fucking a cartel queen is right up there, man, if I could tell people about this I’d score so many points. I’d be a fucking hero.”

I smile, my fingers digging into his neck, his hand tightening its grip on my wrist. “But you won’t tell a soul, will you? What happens here, stays here. Between us. You’re in my bed because I wanted you here. I needed someone, Angel, and you were there. That’s all this is.”

“Hey, I’m happy to help in any way I can. That’s what Eddie told me to do, I’m just following orders. Yours, and his.”

I pull my hand away from his neck, and he lets go of my wrist, immediately reaching out to rip my panties off. And then his hands are on my ass, pushing me forward, his tongue darting between my legs and I throw my head back again, biting down on my lip to try and stifle my moans. Every inch of my skin is tingling as his tongue pushes into me, my fingers buried in his hair, this man is the release I needed today; my way of forgetting so much shit, as we all prepare for more to come.

What he’s doing to me, it’s exactly what I need, but I still want more. So I push him away and get up off the bed, backing away until I’m up against the wall.

“What the fuck are you doing, Olivia?”

“Come here.”

He gets up, comes over, but before he can touch me I grab his wrist, our eyes locking. And then he smiles, wrenches his wrist free of my grip and spins me around so I’m facing the wall; grabs my hips and pulls me back against him, his cock ramming into me so hard I almost cry out loud. But I don’t, I push back, feel him fall deeper into me, his fingers digging into my hips so hard it’s painful. But pain helps me forget. Pain takes over, it leaves no room for anything else. Except, I’m not forgetting, even with Angel inside me, sex isn’t maskingallof the memories…

Two Years Earlier…

I like Javier’s office. It’s dark walls and floorboards could leave a lot of people feeling closed-in, maybe they’d prefer a brighter style of décor, but I like the darker feel. I like the bookcases lining the walls, filled with everything from history books to his favorite novels, some of which are quite surprising. I never had him down as a ‘To Kill A Mockingbird’ fan, but he has a first edition.

His desk is modern and uncluttered, just his laptop, a couple of photographs, and a telephone are on there, although right now it’s scattered with the files I’ve been looking through; the book I’ve been scribbling notes in. But I’m done now. I gather together the files and put them back in the top drawer of his desk, locking it before I slip the key into my pocket and leave the office, locking that behind me, too.

I stop by the kitchen and tell Celine she can finish early, I want to cook for Javier tonight. He said he wouldn’t be back in time for dinner but he needs to eat. And I enjoy cooking, even though Javier’s much better at it than me. He’s taught me a lot, including many dishes from Mexico, where he grew up, and Miami, where he spent a lot of time after coming to the USA. I’m going to cook him one of his favorites tonight – Chilorio: pork in a chili sauce – so I hope he’s hungry. He should be. He always forgets to eat, even though I’ve asked Lucca to try and make sure he doesn’t go all day without food, which is pointless in reality, because Lucca doesn’t think he needs to eat either. One’s as bad as the other.

With everything as it should be in the kitchen, I head into the living room and switch on the TV before going over to the window, smiling as I catch sight of Javier’s black Jaguar making its way up the driveway. Perfect timing. We can talk about his day, and mine, while I cook dinner.

Checking my reflection in the mirror above the couch I run my fingers through my hair and wait until I hear the front door open and close; the sound of footsteps on the tiled floor, but I can only hear one set. And when I glance up at the doorway only Lucca is there. He’s alone. And for some reason, my blood feels like it’s turning to ice in my veins.

“Where’s Javier? I’m making his favorite dinner and I don’t want the pork to overcook…”

“Olivia, I need you to…”

“That blood, on your jacket. Whose is it?”

“Olivia…”

“Whose is it?”

“I need you to listen to me, Liv, please.”

But I don’t want to listen. I don’t want him to say the words, because saying the words means it’s happened. It makes everything real.

“No, Lucca. No.” I shake my head, but I’m not crying. I can’t cry. I don’t want to, because deep down inside I know that, ever since I chose to know exactly who Javier Delgado was, I’ve been preparing for this moment, I just – naïvely – never thought it would come.

“I’m so sorry, Olivia. I’m so fucking sorry.”

I back away, sitting down on the arm of the couch. “It’s okay. Really, it’s fine, this… it was going to happen someday, wasn’t it? I can’t pretend it wasn’t a possibility.” I look up at Lucca. “Put that jacket in the wash. Celine has something that stops blood from staining, she keeps it in the laundry room, in the cupboard next to the dryer.”

He takes his jacket off and lies it carefully down on the chair by the door. “We tried, to save him, but we couldn’t get him to Filipe in time. He bled out. The damage was too severe.”

I nod, turning my head to gaze at the TV. There’s a cookery show playing. They’re making something with eggs, I don’t know what, but I think it’s a dessert.

“Where did it happen?”

“Outside the casino on South Street. As we were leaving.”

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