Page 36 of Bought

She laughs genuinely, not the nervous kind, and I feel the sound. “That car costs more than a house back home!”

We take bites during the rare pauses in conversation. The food gets cold, but neither of us minds. The talk flows easily, but it’s challenging in its own way.

Opening up feels riskier than putting my mouth between her thighs.

Her lips part. Silence stretches. And her gaze drops again to my chest, to the scars hidden under my shirt.

“What happened to you?” she asks.

The space between us tightens. My jaw tightens. I could lie. I could push her away.

Surprisingly, I don’t.

“Men died,” I say flatly. “Because I made the wrong call.”

I don’t tell her about the girl who died. I can’t.

She doesn’t flinch. She should. It’s not a pretty truth. It’s not the kind of confession you share over dinner and untouched wine. She doesn’t tell me it’s not my fault. Or that it’s fine.

It’s not.

“That must tear you up inside,” she says softly.

She speaks as if she knows how it feels, as if she understands me on a deeper level. Her words hang in the air. I can’t answer. I don’t want to.

If I let her keep peeling me open, I’ll have nothing left.

We’ve gone way past a line I swore not to cross.

“Tell me something real.”

She frowns. “Real?”

“No lies,” I warn. “Something about Erin.”

Her eyes drift to her glass. For a moment, I think she’ll shut down, but then she whispers, “I’m in over my head.”

It’s not what I expected. Concern grips me. “What do you mean?”

She almost answers but swallows her words instead and bites her lip. I want to rip the information from her.“Erin,” I lean in, placing my hand on her forearm. “Are you in trouble?”

Her lip quivers.

Again, I say her name. “Erin. Tell me. Now.”

When she’s finally ready to speak, the tremor in her voice makes the hair on my arm stand. Her pretty blue eyes meet mine as she says, “We all are.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

Erin

I like how his hand locks around my forearm. I shouldn’t. He tightens his grip, demanding, “What is it? Who is in trouble?”

“It’s nothing.” I shake my head and tug my arm from his grip.

“Tell me,” he demands again. “Now.”

As much as I want to tell him, this is not his problem. I've already got his money. I’ve been working to deceive him.