I smile. I’m glad she knows I don’t expect her to cook and clean for me. The fact that she does it anyway does strange things to my chest. “Good.”
But reality settles back in. Desiree is a mother. She has a five-year-old son I’m going to make sure gets home with her. She’s not going to stick around cooking and cleaning for me. She’s not going to want to bring that boy of hers anywhere near me.
And that’s how it should be.
I’m dangerous. I bring darkness and hatred to everyone around me, myself included.
The last thing Desiree Lopez needs is to get dragged down by someone like me.
Chapter 7
Desiree
“Listen, doll.” Junior cups my chin in that stern way of his. “I’ll run out and get us coffee if you promise not to make a break for it. Are we past that now?”
“Can I see my phone again?”
He let me check texts and messages last night—with him looking over my shoulder the whole time, of course. There was a reply from my mom, but nothing else. No word from the private investigator or work.
“I don’t know why you think this is negotiation. What you’re getting out of the deal is hot coffee and maybe a pastry. I’m asking if you’re gonna stay put or if I need to tie you to the bed. Because, baby, I will. And we both know you’d like it.” His voice deepens on the last words and I feel the vibration everywhere.
He’s so right. Heat floods my nether regions at his words. Still, I keep making demands. “Just let me see it.”
He sticks his hand in his pocket and produces my phone. “You don’t have any messages.” He swipes across the screen and opens my texts to show me. “Oh wait, you do have a new one.”
He shows me the screen. My co-worker and friend Lucy texted. “You’re sick?”
“Can I answer? Tell her the same thing I told my mom? She’s a good friend.”
He nods and watches me closely as I type a response, like he’s looking for some sign I wanted my phone for some other reason.
I didn’t. I’m not going to call for help or try to escape. I may have been coerced, but now we made our bargain. I’m sticking to it.
I called in sick, but I actually have a home healthcare job that pays double this week. Don’t tell anyone! Then I put in three emojis of money bags. She knows how badly I need the money and will totally support me on this decision.
Even though it wasn’t really my decision.
When I’m finished, I hand the phone back. “I’ll take a latte and an egg sandwich, if they have them. Where are you going?”
“Starbucks. Ham and cheese?”
“Yes, please.”
“You gonna stay?” He puts that note of warning in his voice that makes my panties wet.
I give him a shove toward the door. “Of course I’ll stay. I need my coffee. Make it a large, capiche?”
His deep chuckle sends frissons of pleasure through my body.
I like making him laugh. Way too much. I need to guard my heart against this man because he is worming in far too quickly.
“Listen, I’m not gonna call a bodyguard because I’ll be right back, but keep the door locked and don’t answer it for anyone.”
A chill slithers through me, but I nod.
He leaves and I head back upstairs to clean and dress Gio’s wounds and check his vitals.
When the doorbell rings, I freeze.
Okay, I’m not supposed to answer it. Should I call Junior?
It rings again, several times, fast. Like it’s someone who knows Junior well. Definitely not a door-to-door salesman.
“Junior?” A woman’s voice calls out.
A wave of cold washes over me. There’s a woman? Of course there’s a woman. He’s a filthy rich, powerful man. He probably has a whole handful of women hanging around him at all times.
My empty stomach turns.
She rings again, several times fast.
Ugh. I’m seriously going to be sick. I stand on the landing, staring down the stairs at the front door. Like I can will the little tramp away with my laser vision.
A key turns in the lock. Oh my God. Who is this? She has a key?
This isn’t some floozy. It’s a serious girlfriend.
The door swings open and a very pretty, very young woman steps in. “Junior?” She looks up the stairs, her eyes widening when she sees me.
“Oh shit,” she says, and comes flying up the stairs at me.
I freeze, my gut tighter than a drum. Is she some psycho girlfriend coming to attack me? But she pushes past me like I don’t exist, and steps into Gio’s room.
“Gio!” she cries out, fear in her voice. “Oh my God, what happened?” Now she whirls to look at me again. “Where’s Junior?”
“Who the hell are you?” I demand, even though I probably have the least right to make demands. No, fuck that. He slept with me. I can demand all I want.