The Sweetest Oblivion (Made 1)

He was going to hold me here until I complied. He knew being caught like this would unnerve me more than it ever would him because of my past.

Frustration tightened in my lungs. The longer we stood here—him holding me in an intimate way—the further the panic spread through my blood, itching and chafing. I pushed against his chest in a last-ditch effort, but it was like trying to move a brick wall.

“Okay,” I whispered. “No Christian.”

He must have been satisfied with my answer, because he stepped back.

A second later, someone came around the corner. Ice crawled up my throat. Benito stopped when he saw us, his eyes narrowing to slits.

Nicolas and I stood a couple feet apart now, though we were both alone, and my wide doe eyes had to give everything away. I forced a smile, and Nicolas gave my cousin a look of dark indifference before I sprinted into the bathroom.

Leaning against the door, I exhaled a breath of relief.

I was not going to marry Oscar Perez.

Now that I knew there was an out, I let myself hope for the best. And I wasn’t going to lose the chance because of Nicolas Russo.

I used the restroom, went straight to the terrace beside the pool, took my gin and tonic from Christian, who must have noticed I liked them—a good quality in a man—and swallowed a large drink for courage.

Then I talked to him. Animatedly. Like it was 100 percent my choice and not done by my father’s interference. Like I hadn’t gotten blackmailed not to.

Christian was amused by it all, appearing to know everything I did, and I wouldn’t doubt it. He was perceptive, and hot. He only got hotter the more I drank, but, for some illogical reason, I couldn’t push Nicolas out of my mind for a second. I was continually aware of his presence, even with this insanely attractive man’s avid attention.

My gaze caught on Nicolas’s through the glass. He watched me, his hands in his pockets, while talking to Luca. His expression was unexpected: indifferent and calm. Like the exchange in the hall hadn’t happened.

What a confusing man.

He’d told me he didn’t bluff, and unfortunately, I would soon learn he really didn’t.

Five minutes later, my cheeks felt hot from my fifth drink of the night, and I was beginning to think I’d imagined Nicolas’s temper as well. Christian was easy to talk to, though I wondered how much of what he said was the truth. I listened as he told me about a cabin he owned in the Rockies, where the stars were incredibly bright.

“Sounds beautiful,” I commented. “I would love to see it.”

“See what?”

My shoulders tensed at Nicolas’s deep voice behind my back.

“My cabin in Colorado,” Christian responded, while I said, “None of your business,” at the same time.

“You sound angry, Elena.” Nicolas’s voice was tainted with something dangerous. “Maybe you should cool off.”

My brows knitted. “What? No—”

I never got to finish what I had to say.

Because, with one hand on my side, Nicolas pushed me into the pool.

“What is drama but life with the dull bits cut out.”

—Alfred Hitchcock

WHILE I CLIMBED OUT OF the pool, soaking wet, they stood a foot apart staring at one another.

Christian’s lips tipped up as he brought his drink to his mouth, but his gaze never left Nico’s.

“Elena!” Mamma gasped, running onto the patio. “What happened?”

Everyone’s eyes touched my skin through the glass, and it felt like I was on display at the zoo.