Page 6 of Wait for You

Mateo

At the quiet knock on his door, a tremor ran through Mat. It was Imogen. He’d been worried she wouldn’t come like he’d asked. He rose from his seat in front of the sleek electric fireplace, tugging on the end of his shirt sleeves to straighten them. He paused at the door, anticipating and dreading seeing her again.

After running into her in the hall earlier, he’d let her go with strict instructions to be only a maid. To do nothing suspicious and avoid the lieutenant’s men at all costs. If she were here now, maybe she’d managed to listen to him for once.

When they’d been together, he loved and hated how strong-minded she was. It meant she’d often butted heads with her familyandhim. Though five years had passed, he hoped she hadn’t lost her spunk.

As much as he’d tried to ignore them, echoes of their past had hounded him all day. Apart from his mother, Imogen was the only woman he’d ever loved. But when it came down to it, love wasn’t enough. Not when she came from Texas royalty and his pedigree was nonexistent.

Before the sour memory of their last day together could do more than burn its way through his gut, he wrangled it into submission.

The past was the past.

What he had to focus on was what to do with Imogen in the present. Her showing up made his current job not only that much harder, but it added to his workload. The last thing he needed was a distraction when he was close to finishing his assignment.

Even so, he refused to leave her to her own devices. She’d already made a horrible decision, placing herself in the lieutenant’s house. If she kept snooping around, she was bound to get caught, and he had zero illusions about what would happen after that.

Mat shook the horrifying images from his mind and unclenched the fists he’d made in response. He usually kept a clear head but the thought of anyone hurting Gen . . . it hazed his vision in red and stirred a fiery rage in his blood.

She’s not yours anymore.

Ifshe ever was. He may have been the one who walked away, but she’d made one thing clear.

A familiar resignation flooded him.

It was for the best he found out that his position in society meant he’d never measure up to hers.

Taking a deep breath, Mat opened the door. At least Imogen looked as uncomfortable as he felt. Her hand hung in the air mid-knock, and she had her bottom lip caught between her teeth. A sure sign of her indecision. If he had to guess, she’d been standing there debating whether to walk away or knock again.

“Hello, Imogen.”

She dropped her hand, released her lip, and shot shards of ice at him with her eyes. “Mateo.”

He leaned against the doorframe and lazily took her in. The gray maid’s dress, with its white collar and cuffs, was supposed to help her blend into the background, but the richness of her dark hair and glowing skin meant she stuck out in the best possible way. Or worst, since he needed her to remain invisible to the cartel.

He wasn’t above appreciating the way she looked for himself, though. The one thing their relationship had always had going for it was the sex. The bedroom had been the place where their different backgrounds didn’t matter. Hell, it was probably what made it so much better than anything he’d had prior or since.

Remembering, his eyes greedily drank her in. The white ruffled apron should have seemed ridiculous, but all he could think about was a fantasy where she wore that and nothing else. The buttons down the center of the blouse gapped, straining tokeep their hold over her ample bust. They must’ve given her the smallest size uniform because not only was it a tad too tight, it managed to be too short, even on someone with her stature. She barely topped five-three, but while petite, she had curves in all the right places. Curves he remembered in minute detail.

“Are you going to invite me in or what?” The irritation sharpening her voice made him smile. Maybe it was petty, but he wasn’t happy about her being here. The least she could do was suffer for it some, too.

“’Course I am.” He stepped out of the way and pushed the door wide. “Come on in.”

With his recent promotion, the lieutenant had upgraded him to a suite of rooms. He had his own living room, separate bedroom, and bathing room.

As Imogen swept past him, her perfume surrounded him. Ignoring its pull, he reminded himself the seductive scent was another thing he had to talk to her about. She needed to lose it unless she wanted anyone with a working olfactory nerve to know what room of the house she’d just walked through.

Imogen strode past the leather chaise in the sitting area straight for the chair by the hearth. The fireplace’s white plaster surround stretched to the ceiling, narrowing as it reached the top. It was set on low and mainly for aesthetic value, not warmth. Not that it couldn’t get cold in northeast Texas, but spring was already bringing higher temps.

The lounge chair she’d chosen was where he’d intended to sit as it faced the door, but he wasn’t going to argue with her over it. Not when he needed to talk some sense into her.

The chair had a deep seat, and she perched on the edge instead of sinking into the burgundy fabric. As soon as she sat, she crossed her arms over her chest, demanding, “Well?”

Mat raised a hand, asking her to wait a moment. Grabbing a remote off the end table by the chaise, he turned on the TVhanging over the fireplace. He’d already drawn the dark gray curtains on the room’s two windows for privacy, but he didn’t want to chance anyone overhearing what they talked about.

With the latest soccer match on loud enough to muffle their words should anyone be listening, Mat settled on the chaise. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs as he faced Imogen.

They hadn’t been able to get into it in the hall earlier, so he asked her now, “Why do you think the Lazcanos had anything to do with Emil’s disappearance?”

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