Page 62 of Redeemed (Dirty Air 4)

My eyes sting, and I stand in a rush. “I’m going to go grab us a bottle of wine!”

Matteo’s eyes land on the full bottle of white wine in the middle of the table. I come up with some half-ass excuse about a different kind I prefer after dinner. My neck heats as I turn on my heel and bolt to the kitchen.

Ragged breaths escape my lungs. I open a cabinet door that hides the wine cellar, properly dubbed by me as the bat cave. My sneakers echo off the stone walls as I take the stairs two at a time.

I press my back against one of the glass refrigerator doors and slide down, hugging my knees to my chest. It takes everything in me to not release frustrated tears.

Nothing about tonight is going my way. Every choice I’ve made up until this point with Matteo has gone terribly wrong, making my life a mess. And for what? A father who already has a family and doesn’t even know I exist?

I’m a joke. A fraud. Nothing better than my mother, lying to get my way. The realization brings about the tears I fought against before. I swipe them away, hating the evidence of my distress.

“You have two choices. You can go out there and show them what they’re missing out on, or you can hide in here and I’ll tell them to go.” Santiago’s low voice bounces off the walls. A pair of sneakers stop in front of me, his body casting a shadow over me.

My heart lodges itself somewhere in my throat. “Holy shit! How are you so damn quiet all the time?” I press my hand against my chest as I tip my head back.

“Practice.” His smirk drops into a scowl as his eyes flick over my tear-stained face.

He lets out a breath as he gracefully squats.

My heart warms at the idea of him pushing himself to his limit to meet me where I’m at. I lean my head forward, avoiding his gaze. “Tonight sucks.”

He tucks a thick, calloused finger under my chin, forcing me to face him. “Ehh. They suck. There’s only one person at that table making everything bearable.” He smiles in a way that makes me want to shake him.

Screw a penny for his thoughts. I’d offer my firstborn child if it means gaining access to a piece of his mind.

“I made a mistake, didn’t I?”

He shakes his head. “No, you didn’t. And I can’t exactly blame them either because fame makes people stupid. They think the way to make me happy is asking me questions about myself, but they couldn’t be any more wrong.”

“Why?” The words leave my mouth in a whisper.

“Because obviously the way to any man’s heart is through his girlfriend.”

“Fake girlfriend.” I mumble half-heartedly. Fake girlfriends shouldn’t feel how I do about him, but here I am, lusting after a damn hermit.

He shakes his head, fighting a smile. “How do you feel about playing a game?”

“A game?” My jaw drops open.

“Yes. A game.” He nods, his grin growing. “Whoever makes up the most ridiculous story about our relationship wins whatever they want.”

I laugh. It’s loud and unrestrained, echoing off the walls. “Why would we do that?”

“Because I’d rather see you smile than cry.”

I suck in a sharp breath. His sweet words sink in, repairing the damage from tonight. It scares me to rely on someone like him. But at the same time, I can’t ignore the security he offers.

“What do I get if I win?” My smile widens.

“The real question you need to ask is what do I get when I win?” His smile turns mischievous, liquifying my insides.

Oh. Shit.

I’m willing to lose if it means I get another smile like that. I might as well wave my flag of surrender now because Santiago looks like the type to not take any prisoners.

21

Santiago