Page 67 of Black Jack (Advantage Play 5)

“Seems that I have.”

“And do you regret them?” she whispers, peeking up at me through those thick, dark lashes.

Good question.

She’s not the only one who’s curious. I’ve asked myself the same thing a thousand times. But I’ve never known the answer until now.

“No. I don’t regret them, Bianca. But I’m sorry you were dragged into a situation you wanted to steer clear of.” Cupping her cheek, I rub my thumb along the thick makeup that I know camouflages her birthmark. The one she’s so ashamed to claim that anytime I take in her flawless complexion, I’m riddled with loss. Because she doesn’t see what I see every time I look at her. Her flawless complexion only serves as a reminder that she’s hiding herself from me. It makes the tiny breadcrumbs of trust that she’s given me seem meaningless because she’s still too terrified to open up and show me who the real Bianca is when she isn’t wearing a mask.

And every time she covers her birthmark, it proves that’s exactly what she’s doing even if she refuses to admit it to herself.

Unable to help myself, I lean in a little closer and breathe in her unique scent. It’s a combination of expensive perfume and her own natural pheromones that manage to drive me crazy anytime we’re in the same room together.

It’s the latter that really does me in though.

I run my thumb against her cheek again. “Why don’t you go take off your makeup, get into some pajamas or something, and meet me back here? Then we can watch a few movies, get drunk off our asses, and just…not think for a bit.”

She pulls away from my touch but doesn’t stand up. “I can watch a few movies, get drunk off my ass, and not think for a bit with my makeup still on, Jacky Boy.”

I’d back off if it weren’t for the look in her eyes and the indecision that seeps from her pores as the snarky comment rolls off her tongue. There’s a hesitation there. A desire to be wanted. A need to not hide for once in her life. And it only spurs me on.

“Or you could let down your guard for the night. Just this once. Hell, you might even like it.”

Chewing on the inside of her cheek, she watches me carefully, though I have no idea what she’s searching for. Maybe it’s a snide remark or a hint of sarcasm that she can use to lump me in with her brother and father. But I refuse to let her think I’m like them even if there’s no way for me to prove it without her trust.

My mouth tilts up on one side as I hold her stare, waiting for her to come to whatever conclusion she’s going to with the knowledge that I can’t change her mind. No one can.

“What are you thinking?” she asks after a few seconds of silence.

“That you’re the most stubborn person I’ve ever met.”

With a relieved smirk, she licks her lips. “Does that bother you?”

I shake my head, my chest swelling with pride that she doesn’t bother to deny it. “No. I think it’s good to know what you want and that you don’t let yourself be swayed by the people around you.”

“Who says I don’t get swayed every once in a while?” she counters.

“Just a hunch.”

“Hmm,” she hums. “You don’t seem like someone who gets swayed too much, either.”

“I didn’t used to be,” I admit. “But now, I’m not so sure anymore. We’ve already discussed my recent predicaments that led me to an arranged marriage and a murky future––if I even have a future––in law enforcement so….”

“You were backed into a corner,” she murmurs quietly, though I’m not sure who she’s trying to convince. “I think those count as extenuating circumstances.”

“So you’re saying that it’s okay to give into peer pressure if you feel like you don’t have a choice?”

“I’m saying that not everything is black and white and that you should cut yourself some slack.”

My attention drops down to her flawless cheek. “Maybe you should take your own advice, Bianca. Cut yourself some slack and embrace the fact that you can still be fucking gorgeous even if you don’t look like all the average models in the magazines.”

“It’s different––”

“It isn’t. It makes you unique, Bianca. It makes you you. But, like I said”––I lean back to give her some space––“you’re not known for being swayed, so….”

Her almond-shaped eyes narrow into tiny slits. She knows I’m baiting her but surprises me when she announces, “You know what? Fine. I’ll take off my makeup if you’ll agree to cut yourself a little slack.”

“Fine.”

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