Page 95 of Thiago
“I know,” he said again, adding a shrug.
“How?” India demanded.
“I guessed a few months ago when we had lasagna for dinner. I saw the restaurant bag you had stuffed in the trash.”
Her mouth fell open. “You didn’t say a word!”
“What does it matter?”
“It matters because—because Ilied. I lied for months!”
“Do you really think I give a damn that you cannot cook? I’m rich! I have a personal chef and a housekeeper who prepare most of my meals. When I don’t want to eat at home, I go to a restaurant. I thought it was cute you were trying to impress me.”
“I wasn’t trying to impress you.” India slapped his hand. “I was trying to feed you because I knew you left work and came straight to my apartment. I was surprised you didn’t pass out in the middle of sex.”
His sculpted lips slowly expanded into a smile. “You were concerned about me.”
“Yes, I suppose.” India rolled her eyes but smiled at the same time. “For the record, I didn’t set out to deceive you. I had ordered food, put it on nice plates, and you assumed I had cooked. You made such a big deal about how thoughtful it was and how much trouble I’d gone to, I didn’t have the heart to tell you I hadn’t done much except take the food out of the containers.”
“But that’s the point, don’t you see? You made the effort. You once said it’s not the grand gestures but the small acts of kindness that make the difference. I don’t care if the food you serve me is home-cooked. All I care about is how you made sure I had something to eat and drink. That’s very thoughtful. Do you know how rare that is for people to do something like that, especially for a man like me? A man who has everything. Whatcould I possibly need? You saw a need and filled it, which is all that really matters.”
Perhaps sensing her pending acquiescence, Thiago stepped closer, forcing her to tip her head back to look into his eyes.
“We are perfect for each other. We were made for one another. I don’t want to live without you. I would be utterly miserable. My life would be incomplete. It would be so much sweeter, so much happier, so much more enjoyable with you in it.”
“I agree.” India slid her hands up his chest and locked them around his neck, pleased she could touch him again. “You love me?”
“If I could find a stronger word to express my feelings, I would use it. Love will have to do. I love you, with every fiber of my being.” His hands tightened on her waist. “Do you forgive me for what I said, India? I know I don’t deserve it, but I’m begging for your forgiveness anyway.”
India touched his cheek. “Yes, I forgive you.”
Holding her close, he buried his face in her neck. “Thank you. I never again want to know what it’s like to not have you in my life. The past two weeks have been torture.”
India stroked his hair. “I agree. Thank you for coming to get me.”
They moved at the same time, their lips meeting and searing together in a kiss of love and the promise of a shared future.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
The ballroom shimmered under the glow of crystal chandeliers, every detail designed to dazzle as family and friends awaited the arrival of the wedding party at Monica and Andre’s reception.
Flowers wound around the handrail of the staircase leading to the second-floor balcony. Linen-draped tables held towering arrangements of ivory flowers in slender gold vases, surrounded by sparkling plates and silver cutlery.
The gold and silver decor with blush accents was the perfect palette for Thiago’s glamorous social media influencer sister. Monica’s own videographers and photographers moved discreetly through the room, capturing every moment for the millions of fans who would later devour the content she shared on her Instagram feed.
“I can’t believe our little sister is a married woman,” Thiago said, speaking to his brothers in Spanish.
Ignacio stood beside him, his hair in a man bun, and Maxwell stood on the other side of Ignacio, looking less harried than at the engagement party when he had been ducking his two dates.
“Never thought I’d see the day she gave in. She was so adamant she wasn’t getting married,” Ignacio added, taking a drag from his beer.
“You’re next,” Maxwell said, with a pointed look at Ignacio.
“Don’t expect wedding plans any time soon. Delta’s tour only wrapped up last month, and we start production onWrongin July,” Ignacio informed them, referring to his passion project, an indie film loosely based on the true story of one of their family members who had been wrongly accused of murder.
“When are you going back down to your normal weight?” Maxwell asked, gripping one of Ignacio’s large biceps under his suit.
He had packed on muscle for his last role as a soldier in an action-thriller.
