doing all this time is not what I want. I thought it was, but I’m tired.”
“You just had a bad case. The next one—”
“The next one will be more heartbreak and struggle, another person who life has beat down. I want to help them but not like I am now. This isn’t my calling.”
“Don’t say that.”
“Don’t tell me what to say, or feel!”
She moved away from him, and he said nothing. Something told her they wouldn’t get back what they lost, not without a fight, and right now she wasn’t up to it. To her surprise, Brent walked toward the door with his hands in his pockets, head bowed. He paused and turned to face her, expression hard.
“I’ll talk to you later, Della. Just don’t do anything stupid.”
“Excuse me?”
“Don’t run after him. I think you’re feeling a little emotional right now from your loss. When it’s past, in a few days, you’ll see who loves you and who has been here. Meanwhile, that bastard’s probably been fucking every woman that crosses his path since he left you. Think about that. ”
The door slammed as he left, and she started. Irritation prickled the hair on the back of her neck that she had let him leave on the note he had. Who was the one being a bastard now? Whatever. She told Brent how she felt, and she had gotten Santi to leave. Everything would be okay.
When her stomach growled, Della walked into her bedroom, found a black dress that would camouflage her flaws and still look somewhat sexy and donned it. She pulled her hair high on her head and gelled the edges. After she had done her makeup, she slipped her feet into strappy heels and left the apartment. Tonight, she could fly solo.
Chapter Eleven
Santi leaned against the wall at the far side of the bar and swirled the drink in his hand. He checked his watch. At just past midnight, Della hadn’t stirred. She nursed her own drink and warded off the advances of a few men. When the first approached her, Santi started toward her to pluck the vultures off, but a few choice words from his cocoa beauty, and they flapped away.
He smiled and sipped his drink. She was such a sight, curvier than he remembered with breasts heavier. He thought he would come with that glimpse of the soft mounds earlier. The taste of her mouth had driven him mad, and he had been inches away from scooping her in his arms and carrying her to bed. He knew from her response that she wouldn’t have resisted. A few caresses, a stroke in the right place, and she would purr for him. That wasn’t what he wanted. How would he convince her to come home with him? Now was the time. He would wait no longer because he had been generous giving her three years. Three excruciating, miserable years.
Santi drained his glass and slammed it on the nearby counter. He strode toward her. Just as he drew near, another man approached. This idiota would not take no for an answer, and Santi clenched his hands into fists at his sides.
“I said no,” Della was saying. “What? Because I’m alone, I’m asking for your time?” Santi saw her tilt her head, and he recognized that scathing glance when she took in the man from head to foot and found him wanting. Amusement made him fight a smile.
“Come on, baby,” the man said, “I can show you a good time.”
He made the mistake of touching her, and Santi reached around Della’s shoulder to crush the hand on her wrist in a punishing grip. He peeled back the fingers, ignoring the cry of pain. “Touch her again, y voy a matarte. ”
Della started and turned to face him. “Santi, what are you doing here?”
The idiota yelped, jerking at his hand, while Santi never took his eyes off him, nor did he lighten his grip.
Della hopped off the stool and grabbed his arm. “Let him go, Santi, before you get us thrown out of here!”
He released the man, and he backed off, swearing. “Piece of shit, you better be glad I’m not in the mood to…” The man faded into the crowd, and the few onlookers who
“You just had a bad case. The next one—”
“The next one will be more heartbreak and struggle, another person who life has beat down. I want to help them but not like I am now. This isn’t my calling.”
“Don’t say that.”
“Don’t tell me what to say, or feel!”
She moved away from him, and he said nothing. Something told her they wouldn’t get back what they lost, not without a fight, and right now she wasn’t up to it. To her surprise, Brent walked toward the door with his hands in his pockets, head bowed. He paused and turned to face her, expression hard.
“I’ll talk to you later, Della. Just don’t do anything stupid.”
“Excuse me?”
“Don’t run after him. I think you’re feeling a little emotional right now from your loss. When it’s past, in a few days, you’ll see who loves you and who has been here. Meanwhile, that bastard’s probably been fucking every woman that crosses his path since he left you. Think about that. ”
The door slammed as he left, and she started. Irritation prickled the hair on the back of her neck that she had let him leave on the note he had. Who was the one being a bastard now? Whatever. She told Brent how she felt, and she had gotten Santi to leave. Everything would be okay.
When her stomach growled, Della walked into her bedroom, found a black dress that would camouflage her flaws and still look somewhat sexy and donned it. She pulled her hair high on her head and gelled the edges. After she had done her makeup, she slipped her feet into strappy heels and left the apartment. Tonight, she could fly solo.
Chapter Eleven
Santi leaned against the wall at the far side of the bar and swirled the drink in his hand. He checked his watch. At just past midnight, Della hadn’t stirred. She nursed her own drink and warded off the advances of a few men. When the first approached her, Santi started toward her to pluck the vultures off, but a few choice words from his cocoa beauty, and they flapped away.
He smiled and sipped his drink. She was such a sight, curvier than he remembered with breasts heavier. He thought he would come with that glimpse of the soft mounds earlier. The taste of her mouth had driven him mad, and he had been inches away from scooping her in his arms and carrying her to bed. He knew from her response that she wouldn’t have resisted. A few caresses, a stroke in the right place, and she would purr for him. That wasn’t what he wanted. How would he convince her to come home with him? Now was the time. He would wait no longer because he had been generous giving her three years. Three excruciating, miserable years.
Santi drained his glass and slammed it on the nearby counter. He strode toward her. Just as he drew near, another man approached. This idiota would not take no for an answer, and Santi clenched his hands into fists at his sides.
“I said no,” Della was saying. “What? Because I’m alone, I’m asking for your time?” Santi saw her tilt her head, and he recognized that scathing glance when she took in the man from head to foot and found him wanting. Amusement made him fight a smile.
“Come on, baby,” the man said, “I can show you a good time.”
He made the mistake of touching her, and Santi reached around Della’s shoulder to crush the hand on her wrist in a punishing grip. He peeled back the fingers, ignoring the cry of pain. “Touch her again, y voy a matarte. ”
Della started and turned to face him. “Santi, what are you doing here?”
The idiota yelped, jerking at his hand, while Santi never took his eyes off him, nor did he lighten his grip.
Della hopped off the stool and grabbed his arm. “Let him go, Santi, before you get us thrown out of here!”
He released the man, and he backed off, swearing. “Piece of shit, you better be glad I’m not in the mood to…” The man faded into the crowd, and the few onlookers who
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