Page 25 of Torched

“What look?”

“Like something is on your mind.”

She sighs, but she doesn’t realize that’s an answer enough for me.

“You can talk to me.”

“Can I?” She scoffs with a dare. “You’re Liam Carrillo. Your reputation precedes you.

“Yet, you’re still here,” I counter. That has to count for something because if she really thought I was that dangerous, she wouldn’t have been here unless I made her. Though I’m not opposed to blackmailing people to get my way, it’s not how I tend to get women to have dinner with me. I don’t have to when they line up for me at the snap of my fingers. “Why?”

“The truth?” Her voice grows tired and small, as if she’s bracing herself for this conversation. “I don’t know. Maybe because I hoped that you’d prove to me that not all men arependejos.”

She exhales through her nose, hurt etched in her dark brown eyes. She looks like a woman who was hurt more than once, having lost faith in men altogether.

“Who hurt you?”

“No one.” Her gaze drops to the tabletop. She holds it there for a few beats, then her lashes fly back up. “But I’m not who you think I am.”

I can see she isn’t sure she did the right thing by starting whatever her declaration might lead to. Her entire attitude grows harsh, putting up a shield to protect herself, but her eyes can’t hide the hint of hope I see flashing through. Still, a feeling of apprehension makes my spine shiver as I crane my neck with a straight face.

“Okay,” I concede, folding my arms in front of my chest. “Enlighten me.”

Our eyes stay locked, mine filled with anticipation, hers filled with uncertainty. Like she’s waiting for me to grow angry and hurt her in any kind of way.

“You’re scared of me.” It’s not even a question I’m asking, it’s a statement. She’s scared of how I will reply to whatever is resting on her tongue.

“I’m not scared of anyone.” She sends me glare. “But I am scared you will judge me for things that are not in my control.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because everyone does.” Her pained tone tears me apart. She releases the words with a fierceness that indicates this has been built throughout the course of her life. She’s not just some scorned woman who got her heart broken one time. No, this goes deeper than that. This goes back to her past. Her childhood.Her family.

“Who are you, Cristina?” I rumble with a flat expression.

She takes a deep breath, and I can feel the burden of whatever she’s about to tell me settle in my bones long before she actually speaks the words I never expected.

“My name is Cristina Reyes.” My heart stops. It literally stops for about two seconds before it continues to beat with a heavier drum this time.You have got to be kidding me.

“Daughter of Miguel Reyes,” she proceeds as rage bubbles up my throat, my jaw set so hard it hurts.

“Niece of Frank Reyes.”

My fingers ball into fists.

“First cousin of Ju-”

“Junior Reyes,” I grit out.

I can’t hide the distaste I hold for the Reyes family, especially Junior Reyes. They are the biggest mob family in Spain, and they have been trying to poach some of our clients. But it’s the intel I got a few years back that they are into human trafficking that officially solidified how I feel. I’m a rancorous criminal, and I don’t shy away from pretty much anything to grow our empire in every way we can. But I draw the line with selling people like they are livestock. Selling women. It’s disgusting. Crossing a line that no human should ever cross, let alone experience when they are on the other side of the coin. I’m not sure if I believe in Hell, but I do believe there should be one for people who feel like they have the right to take people’s choices, like they are nothing more than cash to be exchanged. Junior Reyes is the epitome of evil. A sociopath who has no values whatsoever, just like the rest of the Reyes family.

They have no morals, and even if they wanted to do business with us, I’d walk away before they could even lay out an offer.

“Si.” She nods, her lashes covering her eyes for a moment when she sees the fire in mine. “This was a mistake.”

Her chair shifts backwards to get up, the screeching sound on the marble floor lifting the hairs in the back of my neck. She tries to bolt as fast as she can, but I snatch her wrist before she’s fully on her feet.

“Sit down.” The command leaves my lips on a growl.

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