Page 29 of Dissolving Prejudice

“Well, maybe it’s time you learned from your past mistakes.”

“How so?”

“The last time you participated in a race out of your league, you ended up in jail.”

Placing his hand on the table, Camilo tapped the surface with his fingers. My connection broke for a moment until he spoke, and my eyes darted to his face.

“Well, I got out of there. Didn’t I?”

“You did.” My throat turned dry with the awful memories that still visited me from time to time, and I took a long gulp from my wine. It was sour and bitter, just like my heart. “And then you ran away.”

“I had my reasons, Shay-Lee.”

Well, that just pissed me off.

“Then enlighten me. What made you leave me, Diesel?” I asked, my voice dripping with resentment. After all, that was what he wanted, wasn’t it? To explain himself. And yet, instead of opening up that stupid mouth of his and spilling out all the juicy information, he sat there with his lips sealed. Annoyed, I leaned closer. “Come on, what are you waiting for? You finally have a chance to justify yourself.” I crossed my heart. “I promise to listen.”

Looking away, Camilo scratched his jaw. “I had a lot of things to work through, and it took time.”

“Well, that explains everything.” I reached for the bottle to refill my glass. “Now everything makes so much sense.” I slammed the bottle back in the ice bucket, not caring how it splattered everywhere. “You had a lot of things to work through.” Pursing my lips, I nodded at my now full glass. “And I presume working them through while working for Dion was the best way to do it?”

I glanced back at Camilo only to enjoy the confusion forming on his face, followed by anger, as evidenced by how he clenched his jaw.

“What, you thought I didn’t know you worked for him for the last four years? Please.” I rolled my eyes, emptied my glass, and placed it on the table. “I hired private investigators the second I was out of that lunatic institution.” Upon hearing about my father’s alleged death, I went through a mental breakdown, which lasted for half a year, on and off. Soren was by my side to help me get back to my feet. Jordan was there, too. Even Miles was there. Yet, the person I needed the most wasn’t. Instead, he was out playing gangster with the man who killed his brother and who I was certain had a hand in what happened to me. To us. The day I was attacked, they not only ripped my body apart but Camilo’s as well. Despite that, the moment Camilo was out of prison, he didn’t return to me but to that despicable man. He could have chosen between a bright future or the hell he grew up in, and he made his choice. That was why coming back now meant nothing.

“I know it doesn’t make any sense to you, but I went with Dion because I had no other choice. It was what I had to do at the time,” he said, but I didn’t care to listen, so I turned the other cheek and focused my eyes on the art hung on the restaurant’s walls.

“Shay-Lee, trust me when I say there wasn’t a minute that passed by that you weren’t on my mind.”

I didn’t need to trust him to know it because it was the same for me. Only I wasn’t the one who left. Instead, I waited. Like a hopeful idiot, I waited for him for so long that now, it was too late.

Just then, the waiter returned with our first course. After placing the steak tartare in the middle of the table, he left. Ignoring the food, Camilo bored his stare into me.

“I will do anything for you to forgive me, Llorón. Absolutely anything,” he said, placing the back of his hand on the table.

I glanced at his offered hand, assuming that he hoped I’d take it. If only he knew I’d rather chop off his fingers and feed them to Soren’s dogs than hold his hand.

“Anything?” I brushed the pad of my thumb over my bottom lip as my eyes darted to the beef tartare and then to Camilo.

Noticing it, he swallowed hard before nodding. “Anything.”

“So, how about we play an old game?” I smirked, leaning forward with my elbows on the table. “I’ll answer yours if you’ll answer mine.”

“Sounds good to me—”

“Hold on,” I said, raising my hand. “This time, if one of us refuses a question, they’re forced to take a bite.”

“You’re not actually serious, are you?” He frowned.

“Of course I am, darling. And you know what, I’ll give you the pleasure of going first.” Crossing one leg over the other, I leaned back on the chair and waved my hand at him. “Go on, Diesel, ask me something.”

Irritation danced on his face, and I knew it was because of what I called him. Whenever I used “Diesel” instead of his name, you could literally see his face twisting like he’d taken a bite of something rotten. And while fun, it wasn’t easy, as I had to force myself not to call him by the name that slipped so naturally from my lips.

“Tell me about your job. What do you do?”

“I’m a junior designer at Renieri. Although, I haven’t designed any real collection yet.”

His face lit up. “That’s amazing, Shay-Lee. When did you start?”