Beautifully Cruel

30

“I’m not lying about that,” I say, exasperated. “He was the one who helped me!” The minute it’s out of my mouth, I want to kick myself.

Of course, Diego hones in on that statement like a bloodhound.

“So the man in black is the ‘good Samaritan,’ huh?” Livid, he shakes his head. “Did it ever occur to you that he might have set the whole thing up?”

“That’s ridiculous. Why would he do that?”

“So he could look like the good guy. Gain your trust.”

“You’ve been watching too many crime shows.”

“And you don’t know the lengths a man will go for something he wants.”

I close my eyes, pinch the bridge of my nose between two fingers and mutter, “I can’t believe this.”

“You’re beautiful, chica.”

Surprised, I open my eyes and look at Diego. He stares back at me with a grim set to his mouth. “Beautiful and sweet. And smart. And funny. I’ve been watching guys come in here and get boners over you for two years. But I’ve never seen any man look at any woman the way that fucker looks at you.”

I hesitate to ask, but curiosity gets the better of me. “How does he look at me?”

“Like he’ll die if he doesn’t.”

My heartbeat is doing something strange. It’s all fluttery and chaotic, banging against my ribcage like a panicked bird. I take a moment to compose myself, then say, “I’m gonna go home now. I’ll be back at work in a few days.”

“Tru—”

“No, Diego,” I say firmly. “I appreciate you’re concern for me, and I value you as a friend. But we’re done with this conversation.”

He tips his head back and looks at me from under lowered lashes. Then he smiles a grim little smile and says, “Okay. I hear you.” “Thank you.”

He leans closer and says, “But what I said stands—if I find out that fucker hurt you, I’ll kill him.” He brushes past me and enters the diner, letting the door slam shut behind him. I stand staring at the closed door with a cold shiver running down my spine.

When I get back to my apartment, I drop my purse onto the console table in the foyer, kick off my shoes, then go to the fridge for a bottle of water. I don’t hear voices from Ellie’s room, so I assume she and Ty are out.

Which is good, because I’m not in the mood to suffer through more of their caterwauling.

The conversation with Diego upset me. In all the time I’ve known him, he’s been nothing but smiling, friendly, sweet. Light-hearted. But today I saw another side of him. The darker side.

He was like a different person.

Brooding on that, I take the water and my laptop and head to my bedroom. I’m anxious to look up the name Liam Black to see what I can find, but as soon as I open the door that idea goes straight out the window.

Because the man himself is inside.

Leaning against my dresser in his beautiful black suit and tie, calmly eating pistachio ice cream from the container while gazing at me with burning dark eyes.

I jerk to a stop and stand there staring at him.

My heart lurches. My stomach drops. I try to catch a breath, but can’t.

In a thoughtful voice, he says, “You hung up on me.” He lifts a spoonful of ice cream to his mouth and eats it, tonguing the spoon as if it’s a woman’s body. As if he’s got his face buried between a pair of spread thighs.

I’ve never seen anything so carnal.

“I…I…”

“No one’s ever done that before,” he says, in that same thoughtful tone. He crooks his wrist and points at me with the spoon. “Except you.”

Swallowing, I manage to form a complete sentence. “You deserved it.”

He stares at me for a moment in crackling intensity. Then he slowly sets the ice cream aside, dropping the spoon into the container and leaving it on the dresser.

He turns his attention to me again. It’s like being hit with a spotlight.

“Come here.”

His voice is calm, but his eyes are wild and his nostrils are flared, as if he’s about to start pawing the ground like a bull.

I feel electrocuted, like someone just plugged me into a socket. All my nerves are screaming.

Gripping the water bottle and laptop, my hands start to shake.

Watching me, Liam licks his lips.

Feeling like I’m standing on the edge of a very high cliff, I whisper, “You said you couldn’t get away until late.”

His eyes glitter like he’s running a fever. His voice drops. “Come. Here.” I’m engulfed in a wave of heat.

Trying not to hyperventilate, I slowly set the bottle of water and my laptop on the nightstand next to my bed. Smoothing my sweaty palms on the front of my jeans, I take a few tentative steps toward him.

He lifts out his hand.

I take a few more steps, sliding my hand into his. His fingers curl around mine. He gently coerces me forward, closing the distance between us.

Then he pulls me against his body, wraps an arm around my back, and cradles my head in his big hand.

He’s huge, hot, and hard everywhere. His gaze locks onto mine, and I’m on fire.

“Tell me to leave,” he whispers, his an urgent rasp. “Tell me it’s over. Tell me you never want to see me again.”