Page 31 of Beautiful Dangerous

“Yes, it fucking matters.”

“Why?” I ask, turning my head to face him. “Why does it matter?”

My eyes burn into his, challenging him, almost, to – what, exactly? Tell me something I think he’s been keeping from me? I know Lucca has secrets. I know this man is hiding something, so yes, I’m pushing him. I want a reaction from him, something to tell me that what I’m feeling, it isn’t wrong. It isn’t wrong…

“You’re acting crazy, Olivia. Do you not see that? All these rash decisions, the risks you’re taking…”

“I needed a distraction, today of all days, surely you can understand that?”

“And sleeping with Angel Ruiz, that’s your distraction?”

I stare at him for a second or two longer, and his ice-blue eyes are as cold as I’ve ever seen them. “Why does it matter so much to you? All of this? Why does it matter, so much?”

I want him to tell me the real reason why it matters so much, not the shit I know he’s going to spiel. I want him to tell me the truth. No matter how dangerous that might be. I want to hear him say the words.

“I get what day it is, okay? I get that. I know how much you still miss Javier, but this – please, Liv, don’t do it. Don’t. It’s only going to lead to trouble; blur lines we really can’t afford to distort. We need to keep things tight with the bikers. We need them on our side.”

I look out ahead again, taking a moment. “I needed to know, Lucca.”

“Needed to know what?”

“How it would feel, with someone else. If I could – if I could even go there; if it felt like I was betraying him. Javier. I needed to know.” I look back at him. “But it was okay. It really was okay. I didn’t feel guilt or any sense of betrayal, so…” I drop my gaze, my hands tightly clutching my coffee mug. “I don’t know. I guess it means that, should I ever meet anyone who…” I trail off again, because I don’t think today’s the day for saying what I was going to say. The timing isn’t right. But if he’d told me what I’d wanted to hear – if he’d told me how he really feels… “Anyway…” I throw my head back and sigh quietly. “I don’t think Javier would want me to be alone for the rest of my life.” My eyes are back on Lucca’s now, holding his gaze. “Do you?” One more try. One more chance…

“No. I don’t.” He gets up, and there’s something in his body language that doesn’t feel – I don’t know. Right? Normal? No. That’s the wrong word, but I’m feeling something different from him. Because I slept with Angel? Does he look at me differently now? Feel differently about me, now? Have I made a mistake…? “I’m going to grab a shower.”

“Lucca?”

He stops and turns around. “Yeah?”

“I’m sorry.”

“You do what you have to do, Olivia. But you shouldn’t keep secrets from me. Really, you shouldn’t.”

And neither should he.

Neither should he…

I watch him walk back inside, and without warning a feeling of utter sadness hits me, and it’s brutal; like a punch to the back of the head, and I take a deep breath to try and control it. Is this Javier, trying to tell me something? Delayed guilt? Whatever it is, I can’t let it take control, I need to focus on what matters now. What we’re trying to do. Everything else, it can wait.

“We’re this close,” I whisper, staring up at the sky. “We’re this fucking close.”

Bowing my head, I drag a hand through my hair and sigh heavily before I get up and go back inside.

Angel’s in the kitchen, chatting to Celine, in Spanish, so I leave them to it and help myself to fresh coffee and toast, despite the fact I’m not really all that hungry. And as I eat I look outside, at the spot where Javier’s ashes were scattered, underneath the tree he used to sit beside, in a chair made specially for him by his grandfather. A chair that’s still there, where it’s always going to be, but for some reason I’ve never wanted to sit in it. And I make sure no-one else does, either, I suppose I’ve turned it into some kind of shrine without even realizing that was what I was doing.

“Hey. You okay?”

I turn and smile at Angel. “I’m fine.”

“Have you seen Lucca this morning?”

I nod and put my toast down. I just don’t have an appetite, I can’t finish it. “He knows, that you were here. All night.”

“And I’m guessing he’s not happy, right?”

“It doesn’t matter whether he’s happy or not, he doesn’t get to say who I do or don’t spend time with. You were here for a reason, and I’m grateful. Thank you.”

“The pleasure was all mine, believe me.”

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