Page 61 of Tempt Her

I’m glad I haven’t seen Ford for weeks. The day he left, after he knew Luke, Mateo, and I became a thing, I’ve never seen a man so sure of doom.

But I’m sure Ford’s wrong.

Because this feels right.

Because I finally feel hope, telling Mateo, “Go down to Forest Beach Drive then. I want to use that gear on one of Gentry’s rental units.”

“Why would he have surveillance in a rental unit?” Mateo asks, and the look I give him says…

Because I’m married to a sick, criminal fuck.

Taking the roundabout, Mateo aims his truck toward the beach while I know precisely the unit to search. It’s the top floor, the nicest one in the portfolio of properties owned by Gentry. It’s fully furnished but rarely rented. I know because I used to ask Gentry if we could use it back when I wanted to spend time with him on the beach.

That was years ago, and every time I drive by, I rarely notice a car parked in the designated space outside the building. And when there is, it’s one of the dozens of cars Gentry owns and keeps in a garage on the other side of the island.

I need to tell Cade about that garage. I know she’s pulled all the public records on him, but you never know.

At the white metal door to the condo, I correctly guess the entry code—Gentry’s birthday. The day Satan was born. He never updated the lock to a modern, digitized one that uses a camera.

That’s suspicious AF, like he doesn’t want whoever uses this place caught on camera.

Mateo takes out a detector that looks like a walkie-talkie in his hand, but it has lights with a sensor, searching for a hidden signal in the space.

I enter first like I’m just looking for something. Later, if asked, I’ll tell Gentry it was for an extra serving platter or some stupid shit like that.

I’ve learned—if it’s about serving or cleaning, anything Gentry calls “women’s work”—it’s beneath him. He doesn’t care.

Mateo combs the entire three-bedroom unit with a spectacular ocean view and finds nothing.

Our last place is the balcony which is clear too, and I sigh with relief. Standing beside Mateo, gazing out over the sparkling Atlantic on a May afternoon, it feels like we’re on a romantic holiday instead of sneaking around, hiding from my sociopathic husband.

“Man, if I had a place like this,” Mateo’s smile sparkles too, “I’d sit out here all day.”

Today, Mateo’s not dressed for labor. He looks delicious, dressed for a summer date in a white linen short-sleeved shirt with only a couple of buttons being used. The rest? Open and tempting. His weathered grey shorts look casual while his feet are impeccably groomed in new flip-flops, but my favorite is his silver jewelry. He doesn’t wear it while he works, and it races my heart, his umber skin contrasting with his silver-linked Apple Watch, thick silver bracelets, and a silver band around his right ring finger.

I can’t get enough of him. “You look nice today.”

He reaches for my hand, knowing we can still be spotted up here, so we’re careful. He doesn’t hug me. “You look beautifuleveryday.”

No, Mateo makes mefeelbeautiful every day.

I stopped caring about looks long ago. It’s all curated, culled, curled, and cut into nothing but artifice.

Because I know; you can look perfect but feel awful. People can think you’re so pretty while all you live is ugly days and disgusting nights.

All that matters to me is how Mateo makes mefeel. Luke too.

It’s more than sex between us.

If Luke is hope for me, then Mateo is home. Each is nestling into their own space in my heart.

The bond between Mateo and Luke is strong, too; it’s palpable when we’re together. Rarely do we get a chance for the three of us to be intimate. One is usually on the lookout while me and the other steal a few minutes of shameless joy.

But even when we’re laughing together. When I’m serving them muffins, and they’re joking around. When Mateo discovers white paint on his face and calls himself “café com leite.” Or Luke wipes it across his nose and says he’s been “sniffing coke from Santa’s butt crack,” they’re cute and funny.

I’m safe with them. I’m immersed in their sex and care, and it’s my cocoon. In it, I’m transforming. I’m becoming a new creature, my wings growing stronger every day. Because soon…

I will fly.

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