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But hell will receive more tenants before I let anyone else claim her.
8
Chapter 6
Mara
I close my bedroom door behind me, heart still racing.
The house is quiet, the thick hush of late night settling over the estate, but inside me, everything feels loud.
My skin still hums from dinner, from the way Zasha’s fingers brushed my jaw, from the searing press of his lips on mine. It had been brief, yet enough to leave my heart flipping every time I think about it.
I slip off my shoes and sink onto the edge of the bed, pressing trembling fingers to my mouth.
Fuck.
I never thought tonight would go like that. Never thought I would get to live out one of my deepest fantasies. To have Zasha’s lips on mine.
And boy, did my fantasy fall short?
My phone buzzes sharply on the nightstand, shattering the delicate bubble I’m in.
I glance over and roll my eyes.
Cristóbal.
It is moments like these that I regret not having female friends anymore. I swipe up the screen, frowning at the five missed calls, the unread messages lined up in neat, angry rows.
Of course. He’s not going to let this go.
With a resigned sigh, I pick up the phone and hit call back.
The line barely rings once before his voice comes sharp, tense.
“Why didn’t you answer the first time I called?”
I close my eyes for a moment, gathering myself.
“Cristóbal, I—”
His voice barrels right over me.
“I’ve been trying to reach you for hours, Xiomara! What the hell is going on?”
Frustration sparks low in my chest.
Why is it always this way with him? Why does he act like I owe him every detail, every minute of my time? I know everyone says he is like the big brother I never had, but damn, he can be fucking overbearing sometimes.
I exhale slowly, trying to keep my voice even.
“I was busy.”
“Busy with what?” His voice sharpens further, a knife’s edge of suspicion. “What could possibly be more important than answering your phone?”
I feel my fingers tighten on the edge of the blanket, and my patience snaps.
“I was on a date, Cristóbal.”