I can see myself sitting behind a piano like a spectator to my own nightmare. The Master is standing over me. That twisted grin on his face as he watches me play. And across the room, is Rafael. He watches from the shadows, his thick arms folded over his chest as he observes. The song The Master made me write for him drifts through the room, the notes full of my pain and sorrow.

Rafael moves closer and closer, as though lured by the music. “Avecita,” he says. I don’t look up from the keys. The Master smiles wickedly.

“She’s mine. She’ll always be mine,” he says. Rafael looks at me, this version of me, his expression torn and broken. “I made sure of it when I broke her.” He grabs the hair of the damaged little girl sitting at the piano and twists her to face him, kissing her. She doesn’t fight him. She simply…complies.

Rafael takes a step back and then another and another until he’s slipping into the shadows. I scream at him to come back, but he can’t hear me.

I jolt awake, dragging air into my lungs rapidly. Sweat coats my body and my pulse pounds against my eardrums. Closing my eyes, I pull a hand through my damp hair. It’s just a nightmare, and nowhere near as bad as some of the others, but much harder hitting because it’s the first time Rafael has ever featured in my hellish dream world. The same dream, twice in one night. That’s shitty, even for me.

I slide out of bed, exhaustion weighing heavily on me. I’d never tell Rafael, but the truth is, my nightmares are better when he sleeps with me. Maybe my subconscious knows I’m safe with him. Lately, he doesn’t seem to sleep much though.

The dream plagues me long after I’ve showered and changed. I need to be around people and get out of my head.

I go downstairs and walk into the kitchen. This has become my favorite part of the day because it feels normal. It feels like family. It feels like home. Maria hums to herself as she fries bacon in a pan. Carlos and Lucas are sitting at a farmhouse-style dining table in the middle of the room, bickering over something.

I take a seat across from the two brothers and they both glance at me. “Anna,” Lucas says, smiling as he pours a mug of coffee for me.

“Hey.”

“So…” Carlos starts.

Here we go. “So?”

“Are we allowed to talk about your sister yet or is Rafe going to hand me my balls?” He grins, tipping his head back slightly until his hood shifts, revealing just a little more of his face. My eyes instinctively lock onto the two small teardrops beneath his right eye.

I shrug one shoulder. “You probably know more about her than I do.”

Maria drops a plate of bacon in the middle of the table, and Carlos snatches a piece, mumbling “That she’s a badass?”

“Something like that.” A sick feeling settles into the pit of my stomach when I think of Una coming for me. Will she kill all of them if she finds me with them? Will she listen to me if I ask her not to? Will she try and take me against my will? Why hasn’t she come yet? So many questions, and I have no answers because she’s not the little girl who used to steal for me. They changed her, just as they changed me.

“You should be pleased. Having someone like that in your corner…”

I fidget uncomfortably until Lucas finally saves me, addressing Carlos. “Mum said you need to call her.”

Carlos rolls his eyes. “That woman is loco.”

Maria seemingly pops out of nowhere and clips him around the back of the head. “Don’t disrespect your Mama.”

I press my hand over my mouth, covering a laugh. Carlos glares at me, and Lucas snickers. “She said you haven’t visited in months, and she wants to see the new baby.”

I lift a brow at this. “You have a child?”

Lucas snorts. “Try three.”

“Wow. Are you married?”

This time Lucas practically chokes on his laughter. “As if. He has three kids with three different women.”

Carlos elbows his brother in the ribs before smirking at me. “I’m virile.”

“Or incapable of bagging it up,” Lucas retorts.

“Whatever.” Carlos pushes to his feet. “I have to go and train with Rafe.” He jerks his chin at Maria and me before he leaves the room.

Lucas grins, clearly pleased with himself. “So, Anna, what are we doing today?”

“What do you want to do?”

“Well, technically, I’m your bodyguard, so where you go, I follow.”

I glare at him. “You’re no fun.” He shrugs, and I think about it for a moment. I want to get out of the house, away from all of this…away from Rafael. I don’t think being around me is good for him. He’s wound so tightly, I’m sure he’s going to snap at any moment, and it’s my fault. That whole thing with the shower…what was I thinking? That can only be making it worse. I don’t want to be this delicate thing that he has to tiptoe around.

“Let’s go and shoot.”

He frowns for a second. “Okay. I’ll go and get some bullets. Meet me outside?”

I nod and push up from my spot, making my way through the house. The rhythmical sound of muted thuds meets my ears, and my feet carry me towards the sound of their own volition. I lean against the doorway of the gym, watching Rafael as his bare fists pound over a punch bag so hard that I almost wince at the sheer force of each blow. The bag is wet with blood, but he doesn’t seem to care. Carlos strips out of his hoody and bounces around on a small matted area, small fingerless gloves covering his hands. Rafael joins him, and they circle, their attention completely fixed on each other. They’re like two predators looking for weaknesses. And the second Rafael sees one, he takes it, punching Carlos in the jaw and then the stomach. Carlos doubles over, coughing violently.

“Fuck, Rafe!”

“Don’t be a pussy,” Rafael growls at him.

With a snarl, Carlos is up and punching Rafael in the face. They exchange blows so hard and fast I can barely keep up. My heart is hammering in my throat, my fingernails cutting into my palms as they release every inch of aggression they have on each other. Rafael always keeps the upper hand though, dominating with his sheer size. Thick muscles bunch and flex, sweat and blood blurring the lines of his tattoos into a collage of pure violence. And it’s here, when I see him like this, that I realize just how gentle he is with me. I’ve never seen this side of him, but I can tell it’s his natural state. Although a wolf can be tamed, it’s naturally wild and brutal. Rafael is a savage, a beast, and I’m trying to pet him through the bars of a cage.

I push away from the door and rush along the hallway, my heart sinking like an anchor in an endless ocean. Hopelessness creeps up on me, but I should be used to it. After all, it’s been my only constant, but I find I resent it now.

Lucas is already waiting for me outside, a satchel tossed over his shoulder and a bin bag in his hand. “You ready?”

I nod. I want to lose myself in the deafening sound of a gun firing, the feel of the power in the palm of my hand. We go to the back of the house where there’s a small Eucalyptus grove. Lucas digs around in the bin bag and pulls out several beer bottles. He walks over to the low wall that surrounds the property and spaces the bottles out evenly.

“I don’t think I’m that good of a shot,” I say.

He smirks, handing me a pistol. “Not what I heard.”

I check the clip and then line up my shot before flicking off the safety. My mind empties and all my focus shifts to the short barrel of the gun, and the glass bottle in my eye line. Nothing else. I fire, and the smashing of glass as the bottle shatters permeates the satisfying bang of the gun.

Lucas snorts. “Not a good shot. Riiiight.”

“That might have just been lucky.”

He rolls his eyes and takes a shot, missing the first time, and hitting a bottle the second. We stay out here for hours until we’re all out of bullets and bottles.

We walk over to a little stone bench that sits in the corner of the grove. There’s a tiny patch of daisies between the seat and a large stone pot, almost as if the gardener missed that bit when he was weeding. I crouch down and pick a handful, placing them on the bench before I sit cross-legged on it and set about making a daisy chain. Lucas watches me intently, his brows furrowed together as though he’s completely confused. It’s childish and simple, but it’s something Una and I used to do when we were little girls. I’d forgotten it until now. She would braid my hair and tuck the little flowers into the plaits.

When I’m done, I place it on Lucas’ head like a crown. He scowls at me, and I laugh. “You look so pretty.”

He rolls his eyes and picks up a single stray daisy off the bench in front of me. He reaches out and tucks it into my hair behind my ear. “So pretty,” he says, before blushing so hard, I’m sure all the blood has vacated his body.

I smile. “Thanks.”

We stay there, talking and laughing for what seems like hours. Lucas is so easy going. He couldn’t possibly be considered as any kind of threat. He’s light-hearted and easy to be around in a way that I’ve never known before. He almost makes me feel normal. I could imagine in another life we’d be friends. We’d meet for coffee and go to bars. Maybe we’d go to college together. I smile at the whimsical thought.

“Really, Lucas?” Rafael’s distinctive deep voice snaps me from my daydreaming. He’s looking at Lucas, one brow raised as he takes in his daisy chain crown. Lucas snatches it off his head, and I glare at Rafael.

“Leave him alone. I made it for him.” Rafael’s lips twitch.

Lucas turns beet red. “I…uh, have to…go.” Standing up, he practically trips over himself to get away.

Rafael must have only just left the gym. How long was he in there? Hours? His vest is soaked through with sweat, a stark reminder of the pent-up aggression he just unleashed on Carlos. I hate that I’m driving him to that. Avoiding his gaze, I brace my hands against the edge of the bench and lean back, closing my eyes. The suns rays heat my skin, and the soft breeze stirs the strands of my hair.

“Always in the sun, avecita.” I turn to face him, and he swats at a bug. “It’s hot as fuck out here.”

“It’s Mexico. Of course it’s hot.”

“I thought Russians liked the cold.”

“I’m not sure I can really be counted as Russian anymore.” I hold my arm out, glancing at the golden hue of my skin.

He sits next to me, picking up a strand of my blonde hair. “You’re still a rare bird, avecita.”

He tugs his shirt over his head and tosses it to the side, revealing his damp chest and abs. I force myself not to look, and instead pluck one of the discarded daisies from their spot on the bench next to me, caressing the soft petals. I hate that I suddenly feel so awkward around him of all people.

“Nero called,” he finally says. I still and seemingly so does everything around me: the sound of the gentle breeze, the cicadas… it all stops. Whatever temporary moment of peace we were having is instantly shattered.

“What did he want?” Is he coming after Rafael? Is Rafael going to suffer repercussions because he denied Nero?

He drags a hand through his hair. “He called to say that he has vague whereabouts on Una. She’s in Europe.”

I frown. “Europe? Why?”

He shrugs. “She is from there. But I guess she’s trying to outrun the hit.”

“Who would try to assassinate an assassin?”

He sighs. “In our world, there must always be balance. One crime organization gains too much power, and it throws everything off. Una is supposed to be neutral. But Nero just had her kill four Italians, all fairly influential. It put a target on her back. I’d say it’s one of the mob bosses.”

“Why would she do that in the first place?” He glances at me, lifting a brow. “He bought me…to get to her.”

He nods. “Nero is gaining power and your sister is sure to be at the top of the Italians’ shit list.”

“Surely they know he hired her?”

“Let’s just say Nero has some powerful friends, and he’s without the usual mafia morals. Without solid proof, no one is going to be brave enough to point the finger at him.”

“So my sister is now being hunted because of him?”

He sighs. “She chose to do it, Anna.”

“For me.”

“She’ll be fine. Whoever’s brave enough to go after her will get a nasty surprise. Not to mention the fact that Nikolai Ivanov will lose his shit. He’s very attached to her from what I hear. No one wants that crazy bastard after them.”

I shift closer to him and lean my head on his shoulder, needing his closeness. It’s all so messy. “Does Nero still want me to go to him?”

“I don’t care if he does.”

Despite the heat, I shiver. “I hate this,” I say quietly.

Rafael grabs my thigh and yanks me across his lap in one move. I try to shift away from him, but his fingers spear into my hair, holding me to him. I’m instantly acutely aware of every part of his body that’s touching mine. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“Rafe, you’re putting yourself right in the middle of shit that shouldn’t concern you.” His jaw tenses, his expression hardening. I scratch my nails over the stubble on his face. “I only mean that this isn’t good for your business.”

“Fuck business.” I tilt my head back with a sigh. I want to scream because it seems I’ll never escape fate. It always seems to follow me. His fingers tighten, and he touches his forehead to mine. “Fuck everything that isn’t this, right here.”

“At some point, the bubble will burst,” I whisper. I feel like it’s already straining under everything.

“What bubble? Everything we are is born from chaos, little warrior. Life in the cartel is dangerous. You know this.”

“I didn’t choose to be a part of the cartel.”

“Didn’t you?”

It’s right there on the tip of my tongue. Even staying with him was never a choice. When choosing between the cartel and the mafia…well, it’s a rock and a hard place, isn’t it?

“I chose you. Not the cartel.”

“It’s one and the same, avecita.”

He reaches for my face, but I grasp his hand mid-air, glancing at his split knuckles; a very real reminder of exactly who and what he is. My gaze lifts from his bloodied skin to his face. “You hurt yourself.”

He tightens his fist, and the skin starts to bleed again. “It’s necessary. Sometimes you break something to make it stronger.” I trace my fingers over what looks like years of scar tissue over his knuckles. Broken, again and again, to make the skin tougher and stronger.

Make it stronger. Like him. Like Una. “Teach me to fight,” I blurt.

He frowns. “Anna…”

“Make me stronger. Please.” I need to be stronger in every way.

He tilts his head back on a groan. “You don’t need to fight.” His gaze meets mine, and he strokes fingers over my cheek gently. “I’ll always protect you.”

“And what if you can’t always be there?”

His eyes tighten. “Are you planning on leaving?”

“Rafael, I can’t always be tied to your side. Those guys came into your house and took me while you weren’t there. If I’d been able to defend myself…”

“You can defend yourself.” He stands up, taking me with him before he drops me to my feet. He says nothing as he marches back toward the house, dragging me behind him. Leading me through the house, we go to his office. He goes over to a picture behind the desk, an oil painting of a beach. It swings away from the wall, revealing a safe behind it. With the press of a few buttons and a beep, the metal door swings open.

“I gave this to Violet on her sixteenth birthday,” he says, his back still to me. Turning around, he places a gun on the desk. “I want you to have it.”

I glance at the silver gun, so inconspicuous, but it was his sister’s, which means it has meaning. “I can’t take your sister’s gun.”

He sighs and braces both hands on the desk. “It’s not like it could have saved her, Anna. Please. Have it.” Picking it up, he checks the clip before handing it to me, butt first. “And now you can defend yourself. You don’t need to fight.”

There’s something in his eyes, almost close to panic, so I decide to let it go. For now. “Thank you.”

I shove the gun into the waistband of my shorts, and he smirks. “Be careful.”

I roll my eyes. “I’m not going to shoot myself, Rafe.” He rounds the desk and presses a kiss to my lips. The smell of sweat hits me, along with that underlying citrus. I wrinkle my nose. “You smell.”

He laughs and backs away towards the door. “I’m going to take a shower. Care to watch?” My face heats, and I say nothing. His laughter echoes down the hallway after he leaves the office.

I pull the gun from the back of my shorts and stare at it clutched in my hands. His sister’s gun. I chew on my bottom lip, turning the weapon over. The light glints off the silver barrel, highlighting the engraved patterns on the butt. He gave me Violet’s gun, and I know how much that means. He gives me so much. And yet again, that sense of inadequacy settles in my gut, eating away at me like a disease. He’s given me everything, and I’ve given him nothing.

What if I could though? It’s not like I’m not well versed in fucking men. Why am I so incapable of doing it with him? Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. At the thought, fear grips me, sending my heart sprinting in a pounding beat. My stomach clenches and bile creeps up my throat. I can’t...But then I imagine what it would feel like to lose him, and that fear is far more intense. It doesn’t matter how tight I hold onto him, we’re slipping apart. And I need him. He’s become like air to me, and the thought of him walking away…it hurts, far more than my lost dignity. Steeling myself, I close my eyes and inhale a deep breath. I can do this. I’ve done it plenty of times before.

Turning around, I walk out of the office and straight up the stairs. Once inside the bedroom, I can hear the shower running through the cracked bathroom door. My heart pitter-patters right along with the falling droplets. Taking the gun from the back of my shorts, I place it on the dresser. I pace the room for a few seconds, fighting nerves.

Enough stalling. I open the bathroom door and step into the steam. The sound of water over tile gets louder, the steam cloying my lungs and clinging to my skin until I feel my hair sticking to the nape of my neck. My breaths are audible to my own ears, and I try to calm myself.

He doesn’t seem to notice me, so I get closer until I’m standing almost against the glass. On a deep inhale, I reach for the hem of my tank. The door slides open, making me jump. His fingers wrap around my wrist, and he yanks me forward until I slam against his enormous body. Hot water drenches my tank top and shorts instantly. The door closes behind me, enclosing me in here with him.

“Ah, avecita. Such a curious little kitten.”

I suddenly feel like cornered prey. Why did I think this was a good idea? Stupid, stupid, Anna. Adrenaline spikes my blood, and my breaths come out in rapid pants that I know he must be able to hear over the water. Before I can think it through, his fingers knot in my wet hair, tilting my head back before his lips slam over mine. This kiss isn’t gentle or careful, it’s hard and desperate—a man on the edge. His fingers leave my hair and grip my thighs, lifting me and slamming me against the tiled wall. My heart leaps in my chest, and I close my eyes, trying to drag desperate breaths into ever-shrinking lungs. I know he’s naked, and I know exactly what that hard bar pressing against the inside of my thigh is. The more he touches me, the more that tiny grain of confidence I had, shrinks. You can do this.

I place a trembling hand against his chest, and he stills, his lips breaking away from mine. “You’re shaking,” he says.

I shake my head. “I’m fine.”

He groans. “You shouldn’t have come in here.”

I don’t know what to say, so I simply wind my hand around his neck and tug him closer until I can kiss him. My mind races right along with my pulse as I slide my free hand from his chest, down over his stomach. You can do this. I’m so close to touching him when his fingers wrap around my wrist. Tugging my hand away, he pins it to the tile above my head.

“You’re going to kill me, woman.” He removes my other hand from the back of his neck and pins it to the wall with the first, trapping both wrists in one hand before he sets me on my feet. He towers over me, effortlessly restraining me against the tile. I swallow heavily, and my gaze follows his free hand over each defined bump of his abs—lower, lower until he’s wrapping his tattooed fingers around himself. A little silver piercing catches under the bright lights of the bathroom. The water continues to pour over the both of us, and I lick a drop from my bottom lip. Rafe hisses out a breath through his teeth, his movements speeding up a little. As I watch him, I forget all about my fear. I forget why I came in here.

His chest seems to grow, his abs popping and flexing violently. Our eyes lock, and I slowly lean in, brushing my lips over his jaw. The corded muscles of his throat pop as he tips his head back, rivulets of water cascading over his skin. I swipe my tongue up the length of his throat, licking the hot water from him. Piece by piece, Rafael comes undone. Every touch, every kiss, he becomes a little wilder, a little more unhinged, and I find that I want it. I want to be in control of a man like him. Pushing up on tiptoes, I place my lips against his. I can feel the tight restraint in every inch of his body, his hand pumping against my stomach as the distance between us closes. I want him to come undone for me because this thing that has always made me so powerless is empowering right now.

A feral growl works up his throat, and for the briefest moment, my mind wavers—my grip on reality slipping ever so slightly. I get this sick feeling in my stomach. This is wrong and dirty.

“God, you ruin me, Anna.” Anna. I have a name here. I’m a person, not a thing. I focus on Rafael, on the way his body bucks and tenses, on the glazed, needy look in his eyes. He releases me and slams his hand against the tile over my head, his shoulders slumping forward as he loses the battle with himself. “Anna…fuck.”

He’s cracking wide open, breaking and shattering before my eyes. It’s vulnerable and pure, untainted. A string of groans leave him between hard breaths, his body going tense before his head falls forward against my chest. For a moment, neither of us says anything.

“You always surprise me, avecita.”

The reality of what just happened crashes in on me like a wave breaking against the rocky shore. My thoughts becoming nothing more than scattered white foam, bubbling to the surface in a messy rush.

“I’m…uh, I’m s—”

His hand lands over my mouth. “I swear, if you apologize right now…” I try to move, to shift away from him, but he uses the weight of his body to trap me. “Oh no. You stay here until that look disappears from your face.” He drops his hand.

“What look?”

“Like you just did something wrong, something you’re ashamed of.” I tilt my head back and close my eyes. He sees too much. I don’t like it. His lips brush my cheek, stopping by my ear. “This isn’t wrong.” That’s it though, how can something feel right when it’s been your own personal nightmare for so long? I’m warring with myself, torn in two between this engrained disgust and this longing to be something other than what I am. I open my eyes to find him watching me.

“Why did you stop me?” I whisper, my voice barely audible over the sound of the water.

“Why did you come in here?” I say nothing. “You’re not ready.”

I close my eyes. “If you wait for me to ‘be ready’, you might be waiting forever.”

“Then I’ll wait forever.” I open my eyes and meet his steely gaze.

He says that now. I try to duck around him, but of course, he blocks me. Standing there wordlessly like an impenetrable wall. “Let me go.”

“No. Talk.”

My frustration and self-loathing swirl together into a toxic concoction that has everything bubbling to the surface uncontrollably. “You won’t though!” I shout.

“I won’t what?”

“You won’t wait forever.” Tears prickle my eyes and fall down my cheeks, disguised by the water of the shower.

He closes the space between us, pressing me against the wall once more. His fingertips gently trace over my cheek. “You underestimate how much I want you. Not your body—you. One day you will come to me, and you will ask me to give you something that no one else can.”

“What—”

“Do you trust me?”

I hesitate for a second. “Yes.”

“Then trust me to know what you need.”

What about what he needs? I suck in a deep breath and silence permeates the space between us.

“I think… I think you should fuck someone else.” I can barely force the words past my lips, and as I picture him with another girl, kissing another girl, my heart splinters just a little more.

Rafael goes very still, and when I look up at him, he looks pissed. He takes a slow step back, and then another, cutting the water. Wordlessly, he turns his back and steps out of the shower, picking up a towel. Wrapping it around his waist, he walks straight out of the room without a backward glance.

My legs give out, and I slide down the wall to the shower floor, pulling my knees to my chest. What did I just do? Did I upset him? Or did I set him free the same way he set me free? Rafael is not a man to be caged or limited. This is the right thing to do. I know it. So why do I feel like I just tore off a part of my soul and cast it to the flames?

* * *

When I finally drag myself off the shower floor, I decide that I need to be pro-active. It feels like everything is crumbling around me, but I refuse to crumble myself. I want to be strong. Strong enough to be what Rafael needs, or strong enough to watch him walk away. I’m not sure either is possible.

Lucas is waiting right outside the bedroom door, his hands folded behind his back like a soldier on alert. “You’re going to teach me how to fight.”

“What?”

“You are going—”

“I heard you, but shouldn’t the boss be doing that?”

“He’s busy.”

He groans. “He said no didn’t he?”

“No. Like I said, he’s busy. Come on.”

“Please don’t let him kill me,” he whines. Pussy.

An hour later, and I’m in the gym, facing Lucas, my fists raised in front of my face.

“No, like this.” Lucas grabs my arms and twists my body. “Feet wider.” I move, and he nods. He stands across from me, his legs spread and his fists raised. “Now, I’m gonna hit you. Block me.” He moves to hit me. Slowly. All I have to do is lift my forearm, but instead, I step back. “Anna,” he whines.

I huff out a breath and drop my hands. “Look, I’m not a fighter, okay?”

“You don’t have to be, just defend yourself.”

“You can’t blame me for not wanting to get hit.”

“Exactly, you don’t want to get hit, so block it.”

I jump when I hear a throat clear behind me. Turning around, I find not only Carlos but also Samuel standing, watching us. Oh, great. “Don’t you have work to do or something?” I snap.

Carlos’ cool mask cracks and he grins. “Ah, Anna. We’re just getting a little entertainment.”

“Glad I amuse you.”

“It’s more the idea of my brother teaching you how to fight.” Carlos strolls further into the gym and shrugs out of his hoody. He’s wearing tracksuit bottoms and a vest, the ink work on his arms is even denser than Rafael’s. Layers upon layers of intricate designs that have stained his skin in a multitude of colors.

He walks over to me and uses his foot to kick mine wider. “What are you doing?”

“Teaching you something.”

I narrow my eyes.

“Why?” Why would Carlos of all people help me?

“Carlos,” Samuel interjects. They stare at each other for a beat before Carlos rolls his eyes.

“I won’t hurt her.”

Samuel shrugs. “It’s your spinal cord he’ll rip out of your asshole….”

I wrinkle my nose. “Gross.”

“Okay, you don’t need to fight. You just need a head start.” Carlos ducks down, locking eyes with me. “If someone comes at you, you run, or you shoot. You do not attempt to throw a punch, okay?” I scowl at him but nod my head in agreement. “Three points: eyes, throat, crotch. Repeat.” He lifts his dark brows beneath the peak of his ball cap.

“Eyes, throat, crotch.”

He nods. “Now you want to aim here.” He points to the soft spot at the base of his throat. “Two fingers and jab.” He waves me forward. “Come on.” I hesitate for a second before trying to jab him in the throat. He easily knocks my hand aside. “Faster. The only chance you will have is surprise. You have to be quick.”

An hour later, and I grit my teeth as I jab at Carlos’ throat and go to knee him in the balls. He catches my knee before it makes contact. “Good.” He nods.

Lucas and Samuel have long since left, and Carlos checks his watch. “Rafe will be here soon. Seeing as it was Lucas attempting to teach you this, I guess Rafe doesn’t know about your ninja aspirations.”

I shake my head. “No.” I don’t tell him that I asked and he just gave me a gun. “And uh, thanks. For your help.” He gives me a half salute and shrugs his hoody back on.

Maybe Carlos isn’t so bad after all.

Lucas is waiting outside the door again.

“You know that’s kind of creepy,” I say.

“I’m your bodyguard. Where else am I supposed to be?”

I shrug. “I don’t know.”

He checks his watch. “It’s nearly dinner. Maria is making enchiladas.”

“How do you know?”

“Uh, because I asked her this morning.”

I snort. “Priorities.”

“Exactly.”

I follow him to the kitchen, and he takes a seat, watching Maria cook, like a dog scrounging for scraps. I go to the fridge and open it looking for some juice. Instead, I spot a bottle of white wine and snatch it from the rack. I yank the cork out with my teeth and take a sip. It doesn’t taste great, but I have the urge to do something wild and free. Maria sighs and hands me a glass. I pour it out and hand it to Lucas.

“Care to get drunk with me?”

His eyebrows hitch up. “Have you ever been drunk?”

“Nope.”

He swipes a hand down his face. “The boss won’t like this.”

“Fine.” I scowl and take the glass from him. “I’ll drink alone.”

He grabs the glass again. “No, that’s worse.” He takes a sip of the wine, and I smirk, tipping the bottle back.

Maria starts mumbling under her breath and shaking her head. “Here.” She dishes up two plates of food. “Eat something, or you’ll be sick.”

Lucas wolfs his plate of food and then eats most of mine. My stomach is too knotted up to eat. I’ve been trying not to think about it all afternoon, but I haven’t seen him at all. Not that it’s unusual. He’s often working. But what if he’s not? What if he’s with a woman? You told him to, so suck it up.

I close my eyes and suck a breath through gritted teeth before I tip the bottle up.

Two hours later, and I’m drunk. I lay on my back on the grass, staring up at the sea of stars exploded across the sky like someone scattered glitter over black paper.

“It’s pretty,” I say. “So pretty.”

Lucas sits up next to me. “You’re drunk. Maybe I should get Rafael.”

“No.” I frown. “You’re ruining my…” I wave my hand through the air. “Happy thoughts.”

“He’ll be pissed.”

“No. He’s fucking some girl.”

“What? He would never—”

“I told him to.”

Lucas sighs and collapses next to me. “Why would you do that?”

I twist to face him. “Because men have needs,” I whisper conspiratorially. I should feel hurt, or…something, but I just feel a pleasantly warm buzz in my chest.

Lucas rolls his eyes. “You’re so blind.”

I close one eye and then the other. “No, I’m not.”

He snorts and climbs to his feet, holding his hand out to me. “Okay, enough. Up you get.”

I take his hand, and he staggers as he pulls me to my feet. I fall against him, a laugh slipping from my lips. We half walk, half stagger back towards the house. Lucas says something to the guards on the door, but I don’t listen. I think he gets bored halfway up the stairs because he hooks his arm around my waist and practically carries me up them.

“I can walk,” I say, slapping at his arm. He puts me down at the top and snorts.

“Right. I’ll walk you to your room though. Just to be safe.”

I pause and swallow heavily. “I…can I sleep in your room?”

His eyes widen, and his cheeks tinge that adorable shade of pink. “Are you trying to get me killed?”

“I don’t want to sleep there.”

He drags a hand through his hair in aggravation. “Anna, I think you should—”

“Please.”

“There are guest rooms.”

“I don’t like being alone,” I admit. I can barely even tell Rafael that, yet, a bottle of wine and apparently I’m telling anyone who will listen.

“I’m going to die.” He turns and silently starts walking down the hall. I stagger after him.

He opens the door to his bedroom and goes to the bed, swiping a pillow and a blanket. “You have the bed.”

He doesn’t even undress, just lies on the floor on his back and tugs the blanket over himself. Now I feel bad. “Ah, it’s okay. I can sleep in another room.”

“Anna, get in the bed,” he says without opening his eyes.

I collapse on the bed, and everything spins around me. I close my eyes, trying to center myself. It’s not working. My stomach churns violently, and for a moment I think I’m going to be sick, but then it passes.

I got drunk, and it made things seem better. I smile to myself as I fall asleep.