Page 90 of Sinful Honor

I’d come home.

I couldn’t pretend anymore.

Fuck.

I fast-forwarded until she rushed to my side and handed me a glass.

I turned the video back a minute, to before the other server spilled my glass, then started watching.

I could see Fausto’s glass just barely. Could see Fausto do something under the table, then he poured the contents of a small vial into his drink.

He looked sideways, gave a nod, then the server marched forward.

How did I not see any of this? How did I not see this coming?

But she did.

I rewound again. This time I watched her. She was hovering to my right, her back against the wall. She watched Uncle Fausto, fear and animosity wafting from her in waves.

I remember feeling her presence behind me. Could still feel the ghost of her skin against me from when I grabbed her arm in the foyer.

But I was too engaged in keeping all of the men present within my range of vision to look at her.

When the server came and knocked over my glass, her eyes turned huge. She looked to the left and right, clearly unsure of what she should do.

When Fausto handed me his glass, her panic was so evident and so endearing, it nearly broke my heart. She turned and grabbed a glass from the tray beside her.

I focused on her hand, which was shaking like a lonely leaf in fall, whipped by the autumn winds, holding onto the tree.

She stepped up next to me, and I watched myself look up at her.

She handed me the wineglass and shook her head once. I didn’t know what she meant at the time—just sensed her urgency.

I watched her hover until I gave Fausto’s glass back to him, then retreat when the danger was gone.

I raised my eyes to hers in the mirror.

She’d saved my life that night, just as she’d told me.

I wouldn’t have caught it. Wouldn’t have pegged Fausto to be so bold as to spike his own drink to kill me.

But sure as hell, he did.

And sure as hell, I would be dead if it wasn’t for my beautiful guardian angel who protected me even though she had no reason to do so.

I pulled my headphones from my head, turned around in my chair, then stood.

She watched me silently approach.

Acute awareness written all over her face.

I owed her my life—I needed to let her go.

Right the fuck now.

CHAPTERTWENTY-SIX

He turned around in his chair and looked at me as if he was seeing me for the first time.

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