Arabella:
Javier Ramirez was the kind of man you didn't want showing up at your doorstep because when he did, it meant trouble.
I was in trouble.
I'd taken money from him. It was a desperate, reckless decision that kept me afloat. If he was here now, it meant a year had already passed and he was here to get back his money.
"Won't you let me in, amor?" He asked smoothly, his thick Spanish accent unmistakable. His voice was laced with something that sent a shiver down my spine.
I gripped the door tighter, my pulse hammering against my neck. Letting him in was a mistake but keeping him outside might be worse. He was a dangerous man.
Standing face to face with him now, one question bugged me. What was I thinking going to him for help?
His gaze remained trained on me as he waited for me
