Page 117 of The True Garza

With a quick nip of my bottom lip, he turns and leaves.

True has never denied me sex before. If he’s trying to make some kind of statement, it’s completely lost on me.

Straightening from the couch, I go to pick up my phone and purse from the coffee table. But where there’d been two items on the table, now there’s only one.

Because my phone is gone.

~

“Tell me somethingvulnerable.”

Feebly, I wipe strands of sweat-damp hair from my face, as my hammering heart slowly recovers from an earth-shattering orgasm.

We’re a sweaty, half-dressed tangle of arms and legs on the kitchen floor. Fifteen minutes ago, I came in late after having to work a couple extra hours to fill in for a colleague. Found True cooking in the kitchen and didn’t even get a chance to ask what’s for dinner before he pounced me like a starved animal.

I’ve no clue what was going on in his head, but he ravished me. Fucked me with intention. Like tonight is our last night together, even though we have two more to go. And,oh wow, that was amazing. Exactly what I needed.

But now, this question? After mind-blowing sex? He never fails to whiplash me.

“Why?” I ask him.

He nips at my flesh. “Because the more time I spend with you, the more vulnerable I feel, and I fucking hate it. We need to be on even footing.”

“What makes you think we aren’t?”

Nothing or no one makes me feel as vulnerable as True does. At this point in my life, I’m just damn good at masking it. Being a woman in a male-dominated field, vulnerability wasn’t an option. Women were automatically pre-judged as weak, emotional, and inferior. So one of the first things I learned to do was bury it all, bare my teeth, and prove that I could run with the gazelles, howl with the wolves, and take a bloody bite every now and then without whining. It’s what got me this far.

But True Garza is even worse. He owns my heart, my body, my thoughts. He’s succeeded in having me do the dumbest, most vulnerable thing one could ever do: fall in love with him. So,of coursemy walls are up higher than they’ve ever been.Of coursemy vulnerability is double-cloaked in hazmat suits.

In the presence of this man who has the power to utterly destroy me, I can’t risk presenting as anything other than chill and blasé. Skulking behind the wide-cast shield of our irresistible sexual attraction to each other. Keeping my words and conversations void of sentiment or emotional demand.

It’s the only way to soften the inevitable blow.

“Trust me, we aren’t,” he says. “Tell me something vulnerable, London.”

With a deep sigh, I gaze up at the ceiling, fingertips trailing idly along his arm. “About six months before my father died, he told me he wasn’t my biological father. That he’d secretly run DNA tests on all of us after Mom and Uncle Walter’s affair came to light. Mine came back negative. I’m Uncle Walter’s.”

“Well… shit. Does Walter know?”

“I thought he did. I thought that’s why he searched so hard for me when I went off the grid. But it took moving back here to realize he doesn’t.” I close my eyes. “Mom does, though. Dad told me he confronted her when he found out, but she begged him not to tell me. That’s the real reason why I’m done with her. The fact that she’s finally with the man she claims is her ‘soulmate,’ yet she’s keeping such a big secret from him. She’s just… a horrible person. I don’t hate her. I just don’t want anything to do with her.”

“Do you plan on telling Walter?”

“Nah. They deserve each other.” I sigh. “Plus, I don’t want my siblings to find out, either. They have a healthy relationship with her and Uncle Walter, and I don’t want to ruin that. I’m fine being on the outside, labeled as ‘unforgiving’ and ‘petty.’”

“I’m sorry.” He kisses my forehead. “I’ve completely cut off my birth mother, too, so I can relate.”

“Your birth mother?” I angle my head from his chest to look up at him. “You’re adopted?”

“Yeah. We were born in Nevada, to a Showgirl. Accidental and unwanted after a fling with our dad. She blamed us for ruining her life and was abusive to us as a result. She’d pinch us all over as punishment just for saying we’re hungry. Lock us in closets, starve us. Leave us alone at home. Our uncle, Roberto Castello, is the one who first noticed she was abusing us. But he and our dad were estranged at that point, so he never told him. Instead, he would rough her up, threaten her. Sometimes he’d come take us to play with our cousins, Stefano and Lorenzo. Give us a reprieve.

“It wasn’t until Dad got with Monica and settled down that he started taking us on the weekends to Redlands where they’d just bought a house. Monica noticed right off the bat that we were being abused. Despite being pregnant with Tripp at the time, she decided to adopt us. Our birth mother, all too happy to be rid of us, didn’t even put up a fight.”

“Oh my God, that’s horrible.”

“Yeah, trust me. I know about horrible mothers,” he mumbles. “Now that we’re successful and doing well, she’s been trying to mend fences. But it always comes down to her asking for money. Trent indulges her. But she’s as good as dead to me.”

“Wow. I’m sorry you had such a terrible childhood.”