Page 77 of Violent Attraction

Then he placed his hand against my cheek and I tried not to melt away.

When he offered to talk, I wanted to say no. Because if we went somewhere to talk it was possible that we were going to yell at each other some more and I was going to leave whatever room we were going to be in, hurt yet again.

Yet, I still agreed.

I agreed and I spent the whole time walking from the cemetery all the way back to the estate with my hand in his.

The only other time he has held my hand in public was when I graduated high school as he guided us through the crowd. This time felt different. Like I had to keep checking over my shoulder that my father or any of his other men weren’t watching us. I even tried to hide the hand holding with my dress as much as possible.

The fear of someone seeing me with Santos while I was supposed to be engaged to another man was real.

I don’t really care what complete strangers think but if it were my father, that would be another story.

Even now as we walk through the estate and head to my wing, I’m still worried about running into him.

Santos guides us to my studio and when we walk through the door, that’s when he finally lets go of my hand.

The second that his palm is no longer next to mine, I miss it.

I watch as he closes the door behind us and when he turns back to face me, he gives me a small grin. One that doesn’t reach his eyes.

Never has this man not given me a smile that hadn’t reached his eyes.

A part of me hates it.

I give him a similar smile back before he drops my gaze and looks around the room, which is a complete mess.

I’m still working from the estate. Mostly to please my father, and just in case he wanted to drop another bombshell on me. Maybe this time instead of marrying an heir to another cartel, I would be turning into a drug mule or something. You never know with the man.

“This dress is beautiful.” Santos says about the current white dress that’s on my mannequin.

“Thank you,” I’m used to receiving his praise on my work but for some reason, getting his praise for this dress feels wrong.

“Serena’s wedding dress?” He grabs one of the lace sleeves, inspecting it.

The wedding that my father is putting together for Leo and Serena is a good reason as to why I’m currently working on a wedding dress.

But no dice. I started this dress before Serena was even in the picture. Before I was even promised to Emilio for that matter. I started thinking about the fabric, the silhouette, every design aspect for this dress the second I saw the ring that he had hidden in his closet.

Seeing the ring gave me an idea and started working on it right away.

But that was months ago. I haven’t touched it in weeks.

Because this is the dress that I’d be wearing if I ever married Santos. And I say if because at this point, it will never happen.

I just nod and give him a quick yeah, keeping the truth to myself.

He continues to look around the room and a part of me feels a little uneasy.

Before everything, having him in here felt right. It was my favorite thing combined with my favorite person all in one place.

Now it feels a little off.

Or maybe it’s just me.

“You wanted to talk?” I have to bring it up, otherwise I will be going crazy hoping he doesn’t see any of the other designs that are scattered around the room.

Like maybe the lingerie I had drawn out for our would-be wedding night. I may or may not have photoshopped the drawing onto my body for reference. Sue me.