Page 54 of The Devil's Pawn

“Ugh!” I groan, shaking my head.

After a few minutes of feeling sorry for myself, I decide to face the music. We live together. I’ll have to see him eventually. Might as well rip off the Band-Aid and get it over with.

Standing up, I quickly grab a pair of sweats, then brush my teeth before heading for the door. Once I open it, the nerves decide to have a dance party in my stomach, dipping and rolling like a roller coaster. The damn headache still lingers in my temples, even with the meds, and I hope some caffeine can make it a little better. Heading down the stairs, I tiptoe toward the kitchen, where I hear Janet and Dante.

“No, don’t put it away. She might get hungry,” he tells her. “I’ll bring it up for her.”

“That’s a good idea. She needs something in that belly.”

“After the night she had…” He laughs. “She definitely does.”

There’s a few seconds of quiet.

“What?” he asks her. “Why are you staring at me like I’ve got something on my face?”

“I think it’s nice how much you like her. I can see the change in you since you met her.”

Silence fills the space, except the beating of my heart. He doesn’t admit to having feelings for me, but he doesn’t deny it either.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything,” Janet continues. “But it’s a good thing. Everyone needs someone.”

She lifts up her head to find me eavesdropping.

“There she is,” she says, her eyes lighting up with a smile. “How are you feeling, Raquel?”

The ball of nerves slithers up my throat at being caught standing there. Dante turns in the stool, looking at me from over his shoulder.

I was kind of hoping to hear the rest of that conversation.

But it doesn’t matter, does it? He had no right to speak to me the way he did the other day. I’m sick and tired of being treated like crap by everyone. So even if he was the last man on this planet, I don’t care. Dante and I are done.

“Good afternoon,” he says, a lopsided grin greeting me and making me all warm. “I hope you slept well. But I find that highly unlikely.”

“Leave the poor girl alone,” Janet tsks. “Come sit down, honey.” She pulls out a chair for me on her side. “I have a small bowl of rice for you. It’ll help your stomach.”

I nod as I walk over, ignoring Dante as I sit down. My stomach is still woozy, so I’m terrified to put anything in it, but I also am hungry.

“Well, I have to go,” Janet tells us. “I hope you feel better, Raquel. Make sure you get as much rest as you need.”

“Thank you.” A flush creeps to my cheeks.

Dante says goodbye, and then we’re alone. The silence thickens, and then the room erupts with the sound of my spoon clattering against the bowl.

He takes a sip of his green-looking drink, probably a concoction of something healthy to keep all those muscles in their prime.

“Are we not going to talk about what happened?” he asks.

I carefully swallow down a spoonful of rice, praying I don’t hurl. It goes down easier than I imagined, so I take another. Anything to avoid asking him about my apparent strip show.

I keep staring at the rice, but I feel his eyes drilling a hole into me, compelling me to look up. And when I do, I find that sexy, crooked grin staring back at me.

“Ahh, there she is.” He runs his large hand through his hair, his bulging muscles tightening from the movement.

I battle the warmth suddenly coursing up my body like hungry waves of the ocean.

Dropping the spoon into the bowl, I straighten my spine and narrow my eyes, glaring at him.

“Fine. Let’s have the conversation you’re dying to have,” I spit out with slinking irritation. “Yes, I know I got drunk. No, I don’t do this often, but I guess you could say you drove me to it. Happy? May I eat now?”

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