Page 97 of Redeemed (Dirty Air 4)

Oh, fuck.

I guess Santiago isn’t done with me after all. Quite the opposite. This smug male is actually going to try to beat back his fears. And based on the way he’s staring at me, I can tell it’s more than just because of sex.

Something else lurks behind his eyes. I can’t figure it out no matter how long I stare at him. It seems like I was all wrong earlier, mistaking his silence as indifference. Rather, it turns out it was something much more dangerous.

Scheming.

I leave the party room to use the restroom while Santiago’s family celebrates Noah’s win. During my bathroom break, I connect to Bandini’s free Wi-Fi. My phone pings over and over again as Brooke’s texts flood my phone. Each has a different time stamp spread throughout today. I lean against the sink counter and open up my missed messages.

Brooke: I was in the shower this morning when I dropped my phone after I saw your face plastered all over the internet! The screen cracked and I stubbed my toe but it was worth the shock factor. Call me ASAP!! I WANT DETAILS.

Brooke: Seriously I’m jealous of your legs. They look a mile long. And that dress is a stunner by the way, and the guy next to you doesn’t look half bad. New sexy couple alert!

Brooke: Why haven’t you answered :( Long distance relationships suck.

Brooke: I need to digest this information with you. Please tell me you got some action after looking like THAT last night.

Brooke: Okay your mom just stopped by while I was icing my toe. I’m kind of scared of how excited she looked when she mentioned your new beau. Call me!!

My stomach sinks. I can’t believe my mom stopped by unannounced. I rush to answer Brooke.

Me: Oh no. Did she say what she wanted?

Brooke: Hello to you too, Ms. I’m Too Famous for My Best Friend Now.

Brooke: And no. She kept it very discreet but she said she would be in touch with you. I got straight up shivers after she said that. Mother Dearest looked like a scary, strung-out motherfucker if I do say so myself. Don’t answer her if she calls you. Remember, talking to them is a reinforcer for bad behavior!

Me: I can’t ignore her stopping by our place again. Your strategy isn’t working.

I chew on my bottom lip as I wait for Brooke’s reply. The last thing I need is for my mother to stir up some trouble between Santiago and me. She may have fooled me in the past, but I’m not going to chalk up her stopping by my apartment as anything but a coincidence.

Brooke: I don’t recommend it because she’s a bitch, but if you really feel like you need to, then you should call her and put her in her place. I don’t mind shooing her away but the choice is yours.

What option do I have? I run the risk of having her do something stupid, and the last thing I want on this planet is my mother sinking her claws into my new life over here.

My new temporary life.

I use the Wi-Fi to call my mom. She answers without letting it go to voicemail, and I count that as a small miracle. “Hello, Chloe. It’s about time you called your mother back.”

“What do you want?”

“Now, is that the way to talk to me after all this time?”

“Cut the shit. Niceties don’t suit you.”

She lets out a huff. “I saw the pictures. I’m proud of you. You landed yourself quite the catch while gallivanting across Europe.”

My teeth grind together. “What do you want?”

“How much are you willing to pay to keep your little dirty secret under wraps?”

“My what?” I rear back, hitting my spine against the faucet.

“I have evidence of the assault. You know, when you bashed Ralph’s head into the shower wall after he walked in on you in the bathroom?”

“Oh, you mean the wall he happened to be jacking off against while watching me shower? That wall?” I can’t believe her boldness. If it weren’t for the government’s various attempts to reunite us, I would doubt she was my mother. How can someone who gave birth to me despise me this much? Are money and drugs worth her soul?

Fuck her. Mothers are meant to protect their children from creeps, and all she did was provide him with nonstop access to me. I shiver at the memory of his beady eyes watching me. Making me feel dirty and disgusting. I shake my head in an attempt to push the memory away.