Page 53 of Forbidden Fate

“That’s not—” I draw in a deep breath. “I mean, I don’t want to sleep alone.”

Señora Valentina’s expression doesn’t change.

Cruz’s does. The brief light in his eyes dims.

I hate this.

I hate the way my body keeps reacting like it hasn’t gotten the memo that Cruz Moreno is dangerous. Like it’s forgotten he worked for Diego Vega until roughly twenty minutes ago.

“I mean,” I continue, because apparently I’ve decided to make this worse, “after everything that happened, I just… I don’t want to be in a room by myself.” I cross my arms. “Not because I’m afraid of this place, Señora. I just mean, if something bad happens, I’d rather have someone there who can…you know…”

“Protect you,” Cruz says.

“Yes.” I swallow. “Exactly.”

Señora Valentina looks between us a moment, her forehead wrinkled. “One room,” she says finally, “with clean sheets.”

“Thank you,” I say.

Señora Valentina gives me a small smile. “You are safe here for tonight.” She switches her gaze to Cruz. “You know I keep knives tucked in all corners of this house if you need them.”

He nods. “I remember.”

I swallow. I don’t like the sound of that. If this place is so safe, why does Valentina need to stash weapons?

I take a deep breath in. No matter what, any place is better than that cell.

I’m okay. I’m alive. I’m breathing.

For tonight.

Not forever.

But tonight is more than I had an hour ago.

Cruz shifts beside me. My awareness of him seems to live under my skin now.

Not good.

Because I can’t feel anything for Cruz.

Attraction, yes. Fine. I can admit that, though only because denial would make me a liar and an idiot. The man is beautiful in that fierce, ruined way women shouldn’t want. Hard jaw. Dark eyes. A body built by violence and survival instead of gym memberships and vanity. A voice cold enough to cut stone but low enough to make my thighs quiver.

But feelings?

No.

Absolutely not.

He helped me escape.

He put his own life on the line.

He walked me through that labyrinth and lied to Zabala’s face to get me out of a prison, saved me from being beaten bloody for ransom photos.

But one good deed does not erase a life.

It doesn’t wash the blood off a man’s hands. It doesn’t turn a criminal into a hero. It doesn’t undo Cruz working for Diego Vega, the man who turned my family’s life into a nightmare.