Page 21 of Violent Attraction
That’s something, I guess.
I’m not ungrateful for it, I just wish that he showed he cared in a different way, not like this.
“You know, when it’s one’s party, that person usually is interacting with everyone and having fun. Not sitting around, looking like they would rather be somewhere else.”
Even without having his words being directed at me for two years, his voice still brings butterflies to my stomach.
I take my eyes off of the pair of middle-aged men that are making a fool of themselves on the dance floor and turn to face Santiago.
He’s changed into a different button down than the one that he wore to the graduation. The one earlier was a light blue one that did something to his eyes, but now he’s wearing a black one that makes him look intimidating.
It's sexy.
Everything about this man is sexy.
I give a small smile. “I’m not really in the party mood. I would have been happy with just a small dinner or something.”
Maybe I should have asked Mrs. Reyes to make me some of her chicken fried steak and her delicious gravy. That meal is a celebration right there.
Santiago nods, grabs a chair and places it about a foot from me, before sitting down.
“I get it. I remember the party that my dad and yours threw when Leo and I graduated. Pretty sure I was hungover for a good two weeks after that.”
Not that I would know. I left that party early. He had just stopped talking to me for no reason, and I didn’t want to be at a party that was celebrating him when I was mad at him.
“You at least got to drink the night away. I’ve been told more than once tonight that I can’t drink.” What kind of bullshit is that? Telling an eighteen-year-old in Mexico that she can’t drink, unheard of.
“Do you want to drink the night away?” Santiago leans in, making me feel like I can’t breathe with his proximity. There is a good foot between our faces but it’s like being this close to him is impossible.
“I want to do anything that doesn’t have to do with this party.”
We look at each other for what feels like an eternity and I don’t want it to end, but it does when Santiago nods and stands from his seat. I think that he is going to walk away from this conversation but he surprises me by holding out his hand.
“What are you doing?”
“Taking you to go do something that doesn't involve anything to do with this party.”
His fingers wiggle in my direction and I’m tempted to slap his hand away, but after a few more seconds, I finally give in and place my hand in his.
He pulls me up and without any hesitation he walks us out of the courtyard and into the house.
I don’t ask where he is taking us as he walks through the whole house, I just follow, trying not to freak out at how his hand feels in mind.
His grip is tight, like he’s afraid that I will run away from him if he lets go.
His palm feels rough, like he knows what manual labor is and works with his hands every single day. Maybe he does, I don’t know. I have no idea what this man does in his everyday life. All I know is that he didn’t go to college after he graduated.
What does he do in his life?
The question is on the tip of my tongue but I don’t ask it, especially when I realize where he is taking us.
“Leo’s wing?”
My father’s house is split into four different wings. The north wing is where my father lives with me and Camila, one wing is for the men that my father needs close by, another is for the staff that takes care of the estate and the last wing is Leo’s. When he graduated high school, my father gave it to him to do what he wanted with it when he’s in San Pedro and not Austin.
“Technically Leo’s and mine. He gave me a room in his side when we graduated.”
“How did I not know that?”