AMIRA

 

 

“You’re lucky he agreed to meet with you again after the stunt you pulled in Detroit,” Roman chastised in the back of the Escalade limo that was driving us to a restaurant in downtown Miami.

I glared over at him. “Fuck him. He’s lucky I wanted to meet with him again. I’m playing nice, alright? Exactly how you wanted. How about instead of giving me shit, you give me some credit, huh?”

He sighed, grinning. Setting his hand on my bare thigh, exposed by the slit of my nude pencil skirt. “You know, these last few months you’ve been more of a brat than usual.”

I glanced down as his callused fingers slowly started to slide up my leg, inching their way closer to my pantyline.

“Just say the word, sweetheart. And I will—”

I stopped his hand midway. “Not now.”

“That seems to be your answer anytime I try to touch you lately. Or at least it has been for the last four months. Why do you think that is, Amira?”

“I’ve been busy.”

“Too busy to come? Who are you and what have you done with the woman I know?”

“Roman, I get what you’re implying, and it has nothing to do with him.” I shoved his hand away, pissed that he was bringing up the one man I despised the most.

I hadn’t seen Damien since the night of the fundraiser in California, when I left him broken on the beach almost two months ago.

Not that I was counting.

After that night, he stopped trying to get back into my good graces. Giving up on any hope that there was a future between us. No more Mariposa flowers were delivered to my random safe houses, no form of communication came, and the only way I knew he was alive was from seeing him on television. Speaking on behalf of his clients during a few press conferences that were aired live.

Portraying the man who helped others but let me down.

From the moment I learned the truth that Damien escaped Salazar, leaving me behind in Cuba, like I never existed in his life, it was as if my memories of him, of us, were just a figment of my imagination.

Our connection.

Our family.

Our love.

Meant nothing to him in the end.

The man who saved me.

Raised me.

Protected me.

Loved me.

Left. Me.

It was that exact moment, I left behind that same girl as well.

She was gone and I had no idea where she was anymore, or if she truly ever existed to begin with. I thought she’d died with my love and devotion for him, but when I saw Damien during the last couple of months, he looked at me in the same way he always had. Bringing back hope and fear like she was still there…

Living.

Breathing.

Lurking under all that resentment.

Waiting to be brought back to life after his betrayal. Reviving for the first time since he left her that morning in her bed.

He looked at me like nothing had changed between us.

Not one damn thing. 

When in my reality, everything had.

I had to keep reminding myself of the way he’d treated me, otherwise I’d fall for his words, and then what?

More lies?

More pain?

He still looked at me like I was his whole fucking world, while I stared back at a man who had become nothing but a stranger now. A man whose kind, serene eyes and gentle lull of a few simple words, “Shhh… Muñeca, I’m here,” was buried years ago.

Along with my parents.

My sister.

My past.

I wish I could tell you I didn’t give a shit about him, but I was proven wrong.

By him.

That night on the beach changed something inside of me. In the same way it did hearing him share his truths…

It was all overwhelming.

More than anything, it was undeniably confusing.

Exactly the way Damien Montero had always been.

I couldn’t decipher what was the truth or what was more lies anymore. He would say anything to get what he wanted, he built an extremely successful career off of it. My heart wanted to believe him, but my mind knew better.

Or did it?

Once again, the bastard had me questioning everything and I had only seen him three fucking times since Cuba.

Not that I was counting that either.

“So tell me, Amira. Did you request a meeting with Vlad tonight because he lives in Miami?”

My eyes widened. “Are you fucking with me? Of course not. I’m here—”

“In hopes of seeing a certain District Attorney?”

“Do you need me to come on your fingers to prove I don’t give a shit about Damien? Will that end this discussion? Then, by all means,” I snidely spewed, spreading my legs for him. “If it will make you feel more of a man and less like a jealous little boy, then make me come, Roman.”

“That’s real mature.” He closed my legs. “There you go using your pussy again to prove a point. How has that worked out for you so far?”

“Really fucking well actually. Are we done with the dramatics, or should I remind you who the fuck is in charge here?”

“Amira—”

“Don’t fuck with me, Roman. You won’t win.”

“What do you want with Vlad?” he interrogated, changing the subject.

“What I’ve wanted with every man I’ve met. To bring them to their fucking knees.”

He breathed out a chuckle.

“Are you going to be nice now?” I asked, smiling.

“I’m always nice, especially to you. I love and worry about you every day, no matter where you are or who you are with. I’d like to say I know you better than anyone, however it may not be the case anymore. Damien came in like a fucking wrecking ball, ready to destroy everything in his path to get to you. Whether you want to admit it or not, he will always be a part of you and we both know why. You can’t change the history you two share or the love you will always feel for him.”

“I don’t love—” The expression on his face rendered me speechless.

“People change, and you’re the perfect example of how much they can.”

“He hasn’t tried to see me—”

“He’s just biding his time.”

“What do you want from me, Roman? What is it you want to hear?”

“The truth, because in the end it’s going to come out anyway. It just depends if you want control of it or not, and only you can steer your feelings.”

We spent the rest of the drive in silence. I didn’t mind the quietness, I just gazed out the tinted window, watching as the lights of Miami flashed by in a blur. Listening to the rain pelt off the roof of our limo as we sped through the streets. I stared into my own eyes through my reflection in the shaded glass, no longer able to recognize the woman staring back at me.

Lost in my own thoughts.

In my own demons.

The ride could have lasted a few minutes or a few hours, time just seemed to stand still. It felt as though every second that passed brought me to another moment in time. A place I revisited often, or even worse, I never left.

“Damien! Damien! Damien! Are you watching? Do you see how fast I’m going!” I excitingly shouted, looking behind me on my bike at him.

A few days ago, he’d bought me a pink bike with rainbow streamers hanging from the handle bars and a matching helmet. There was even a little basket attached to the front so Yuly could ride with me too. I’d never had a bike before, so I didn’t know how to ride one until that day. Damien said it was unacceptable for a ten-year-old girl not to know how to ride a bike, so he’d been teaching me since he brought it home that same afternoon. Today was the first day he didn’t have to hold onto the seat, allowing me to ride it on my own.

“I see, Muñeca, but stop looking back at me and pay attention in front of you before you cra—”

I abruptly turned my head around. “What?” Jerking the handle bars with me, causing myself to lose control of the bike. The front wheel shifted right to left as I tried to steady the frame to avoid a parked car in the neighbor’s driveway. My wheel hit the curved edge of the sidewalk, jolting my body to the side. My knees were the first thing to hit the concrete, skidding across the pavement as my bike landed on top of me.

I instinctively screamed out in pain and shock, “Damien!” Laying there unable to move, the stinging and burning almost too much to take.

Overhearing him breathe out, “Fuck.” He rushed over to me and threw the bike off my tiny frame like he was the Incredible Hulk. “You’re alright, I promise. You just fell,” he coaxed, remaining calm.

He obviously had never fallen off his bike before because I was far from alright. There was blood gushing out of my knees when he slowly sat me up, mixed with dirt, grime, and I don’t know what else. I winced, biting my bottom lip as hard as I could when he positioned my legs out in front of me, inspecting the damage. I tried not to cry, reaching for Yuly to hide behind, but I couldn’t stop the tears from falling down my cheeks. Mimicking the bloody wounds on my knees, hands, and elbows.

“Am I going to die?” I asked, needing to know. It hurt so bad.

He bit back a chuckle. “No, Muñeca, you’re not going to die. I’ll get you cleaned up, and you will be good as new.”

I nodded, believing him. He didn’t try to make me stand up, he simply cradled me in his arms like I was a princess and lifted me up instead. I wrapped my arms around his neck with Yuly in my hand and held on as tight as I could, while burying my face into the warm comfort of his solid chest. Closing my eyes and letting the tears flow loosely onto his shirt.

He carried me inside, setting me down on the kitchen island and kissed my forehead when I whimpered, “Please, don’t let me die.”

“I would never let anything happen to you. I’ll be right back, I need to grab the first aid kit.”

I put on the best bravest face I could muster up and nodded again, even though I didn’t want him to leave, but thankfully, he was back in a flash, cleaning me up.

I hissed sharply and really began to sob into Yuly when he dabbed alcohol on all my wounds. Saying that he needed to disinfect the scrapes, knowing that it hurt.

“Shhh… Muñeca, I’m here. You’re so brave, so tough. I’m almost done, I promise. Let me put these bandages on and in just a few more minutes, you’ll be ready to go ride again.”

I jerked back, weeping, “Go again? I don’t want to get back on my bike.”

“You’re not a quitter, and I would never allow you to be one either, Amira. Do you trust me?”

“Of course.”

“Then you’re getting back on that bike, and I’ll be right there with you.”

“But what if I fall again?”

“Then I’ll take care of you again.”

“What if I fall when you’re not there? What if I’m by myself and fall?”

“Stop worrying about things that haven’t happened. Do you think I’d ever leave you to fend for yourself? You’re mine to protect, always. You’re my girl, Muñeca. You understand me?”

I smiled, looking into his kind, honey-colored, serene eyes as he kissed the bandages over my wounds. “There, Muñeca. All better now.”

Seeing nothing but his love and protection staring back at me like I always did.

As much as I hated to admit it, Roman was right and that terrified me to no end. Nothing could change our history, but for the first time since he left Cuba, a good memory hit me from out of nowhere.

When after all this time I thought all I could remember…

Were the bad ones.