Page 98 of Bastard

“I didn’t say that. My man, Declan, got to them before I could. Or they would have faced a fate worse than El Calaca’s.”

He says it calmly, nonchalantly. Except, Hayden killed El Calaca because that pendejo hurt me. And he didn’t just kill him, he cut off his dick and shoved it down his throat. Is there a more horrible way of dying?

“So, you did feel something?”

“You fucking bet I did.” Rage fills his tone and I gasp at the suddenness of it. Like it’s been brewing below the surface, just waiting for the right moment to appear. “I hoped my silence would push you to move on. Not to find a quick, random fuck, but someone to love. Yet, you didn’t. Why didn’t you?”

I swallow hard. “Because of what you told me in the back of the car, just before you forced me out of Loreto.” A tear glides down my cheek, and I swipe it away. All this time, the hurt from that single moment overshadows all the other horrible things between us. To hear him confess his love, then to be driven away. “Maybe you don’t remember—”

“I remember.”

I blink.

“I love you. That’s what I said. If I’d known you’d cling on to it ... yet I should have, knowing you have a stubborn streak that would put your brother’s to shame.”

Another tear. Another swipe. And then, a gasp, because he’s suddenly crawling across the mattress toward me. Ever so gently, he reaches out to wipe my tears away.

“Go on, Luciana. Ask me one more question.”

Dare I? Sí. Of course I do.“Did you mean it?”

“Did I mean it when I said I love you?”

“Yes.” Time stands still as I watch his expression change. And it’s in that exact moment, I’m absolutely, positively certain of his answer.

“I never stopped loving you. You, and only you.”

“Hayden ...”

“Now I’ll ask a question. Why would a selfish bastard like me destroy any chance of having you in my life?”

Because you love me. You pitted a boringly safe life for me against one with you.

“Fuck knows I tried. For four years, I waited for you to move on. Every goddamn day, I’d get reports. You never gave anyone a chance.” His nose brushes against mine. “Say it.”

“Say what?”

“That you’re mine.”

I blink. Mine.

“Ask me who fills my mind when life turns to shit or when I can’t sleep at night? Who is the first person I think of when another of my men falls in love and I’m left alone to dwell on the choices I’ve made?” He snarls the last part, admitting his mistake. “You, Luciana. Always you.”

I touch his chest, then cup his face.

“You asked me earlier if I remember our wedding night.”

“Sí.”

“Don’t you know? I fell in love with you that night, Luciana.”

My world begins to spin. Because all this time, I believed my eighteen-year-old self was too young, too naïve, too headstrong to be so certain about him. I allowed hurt to overshadow the truth.

“Do you want a future with me?”

His response is immediate. “Yes.”

We stare at each other, though I can barely see him through my tears. Sí. Happy tears are the worst. I inhale sharply and put on a brave face. I’ll need it if we’re going to make a life together. “Then you better work on your proposal. Because that was ... something.”