Page 62 of Torched

“It wasn’t all bad.”

“It wasn’t?” Imogen puts her legs on one side of mine, settling into my lap with her back resting against my chest. “Please, Cristina. Do tell this fascinating story.”

Cristina is sitting a little smug in her recliner, still sipping the expensive bottle. It reminds me of all the times she showed how high maintenance she really is, treating people like dogs and expecting everyone to bend to her will without as much as a “thank you” or a “please.”

“It wasn’t all fun.” Her gaze turns dreamy, her fluttering lashes aimed to the ceiling of the jet. “But we had our good moments. The ones that were real.” Her brown eyes cut through mine like a sharp blade, as if she’s trying to speak to my soul. She manages to, but not in the way she thinks. “Like when Liam brought me roses before our last trip. He said they reminded him of my red lips and it made my stomach swoop.”

“You mean like nausea?” Gen clips, rubbing her belly. “Because that’s what I’m feeling right now.”

“No.” Cristina keeps her eyes trained on me, and I feel the tension seeping into my entire body. Don’t you dare say it. “Likelove.”

“Shut the fuck up, you lying, knifing bitch!” I groan, my voice loud enough to startle Imogen in my lap, before she puts her weight against my chest to keep me from getting up and murdering the woman in front of me. “Don’t you dare pretend it was any more than it was! You set me up!”

Cristina sits still, her features straight, but I see the recognition in her eyes. I remember it. Because it’s the same empty, yet guilty look she gave me all those years ago.

21

LIAM

TWO YEARS AGO

Iwaitinfrontof the building, holding the flowers behind my camel pea coat. I quickly glance into the side-view mirror to check how I look, before I rest my back against the black town car. Flipping my wrist to check the time, I notice she is fifteen minutes late. A fall breeze brushes through my styled hair as I push away the brick in my stomach.

Kane and I haven’t spoken in a week, and when I told him I was leaving half an hour ago, he waved me off without as much as a glance. At first, my mind went ‘fuck him.’ but when I got into the car and my chauffeur drove me over here, I had nothing but enough time to think about his suspicions. I hate the son of a bitch for fucking with my head, but he does. He still makes me doubt everything I feel. When I get back from this trip, I need to sit Kane and Cristina down and make sure they agree to being civil.

My attention snaps up when I hear a trolley over the sidewalk and Cristina walks out of the building. She looks like she’s on her way to a night out, instead of a ten-hour flight. Her black hair hangs in fabricated curls around her face, all the way to the swell of her breasts while her hips are covered in a purple pencil skirt dress, reminding me of the color of an eggplant. The doorman of the building trails her two big suitcases behind her as she makes her way toward me on her black heels, a reserved smile on her painted lips.

“You look gorgeous,” I tell her, then press a kiss to her cheek, knowing she doesn’t want me to ruin her lipstick. “Brought you these.” I hold up the roses.

For a split second, she doesn’t reply, but then conjures a smile to her cheeks. “Ah, thank you. You’re so thoughtful.” She briefly smells the roses, then gives them back to the doorman who’s finished putting her suitcases in the trunk.

“Bob, can you please put these in water for when I get back?” She hands him the bouquet without even looking at him, then slides into the car. The man stands there a little surprised, and I slip a twenty in his white glove.

“Thank you.” I nod, then take the seat beside Cristina before the driver takes off to the airport.

“You booked first-class tickets, right?” Cristina rears her head toward mine.

“Of course.” I never told her we have a jet, because I’m trying to avoid another discussion with Kane, but I kinda figured she wasn’t the girl that would settle for sitting in economy for the next ten hours.

“Great. I’m going to be sleeping the entire flight, so please find something to entertain yourself.”

I nod. But inside, I’m annoyed. I didn’t expect her to stay awake for ten hours, considering it’s a night flight, but this is our first trip as a couple. I surely wasn’t expecting this cold attitude from her either.

“Are you okay?”

Her black brows furrow, but then she smiles sweetly, her expression softening, a little apologetic. “Yes, sorry. I’m just tired. I didn’t sleep well. I really need this trip to take a break.” She reaches for my hand, linking our fingers, and the annoyance simmers away.

“Me too, sweetheart.”

Fourteen hours later, we arrive at the cabin in the Spanish Pyrenees. She told me it was a cute little vacation house her mother inherited from her parents, so I expected a quaint single bedroom lodge. In reality, it’s a fucking mansion sitting on top of a mountain. The entire backside of the house has glass floor-to-ceiling windows, and the luxurious and spacious inside is decorated with a modern touch. The terrace leads to a pool that overlooks a green yard as big as two tennis courts.

I put our suitcases in the bedroom before I send Kane a quick update of my location, then head back to the massive kitchen. Cristina is standing in front of the black granite counter, pouring two glasses of wine.

“How are you feeling? Tired?” It’s late in the afternoon in Spain, but back in the States, it’s morning, and it’s fucking with my head a bit. I slide my hands around her stomach, hugging her from behind.

“No,” she scoffs, handing me a glass. “I slept the entire time. Besides, I don’t do jetlag’s.”

Chuckling, I accept the glass from her while my phone starts to ring in my pocket. “I didn’t know that was an option. It’s Kane,” I tell her, glancing at the screen. “I need to take this; give me a minute.”

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