“Who is Javier?”
A darkness came over his eyes. “He is not important right at this minute, not here, with you.” He took a sip of his drink. “By pretending I was dead, that I died in that bomb, I was able to get a second chance at life. I had a chance to go . . . straight, as you would call it. Unfortunately, there are certain types of people cut out for certain types of jobs. I am one of those people. Leaving is impossible. It wasn’t long until I came back from the dead.” He sighed and twisted the ring around his finger. “When my brother, Alex, found out, he gave me this ring. He said the jade would bless me and protect me, and in some ways, remind me that I was valuable.”
He cleared his throat and splayed his long fingers out on the table. “The ring was the nicest thing he’d ever done for me. Soon after that, he went back to pretending I didn’t exist. I guess giving me this eased his conscience. Perhaps he was too afraid I would disappear again. In this business, you push your loved ones away. You don’t dare invite in the pain. Love is weakness.”
“That’s sad,” I said.
He pursed his lips. “I would have assumed you, of all people, would have agreed.”
I stiffened. There he was hitting me deep with things he shouldn’t glean from me. He didn’t know me. He didn’t. He couldn’t.
Esteban went on, stirring his drink. “Loving people is weak. We’ve all been taught that. It’s the only way to survive in my business. But I am guessing it’s the same for everyone. You may lose love to death. You may lose love to another man. Or you may lose love because you lost it somewhere along the way, and you were just too proud to stop and pick it up.” He smiled coyly. “So, which way did you lose it?”
I lost it when my husband cheated on me with my best friend. When he continued his affair. And I continue to lose it, every single day. I’ll lose it until I’m just an empty sieve.
I didn’t say that to Esteban, of course. He already thought he knew me—it would be dangerous if he really did.
He wasn’t waiting for a response, either. The green in his eyes shone knowingly. He let me keep my cards hidden.
The rest of dinner went well enough. The dinner was phenomenal, and the food—soft, flakey ono over red curry and rice—was a sharp reminder that my taste buds had been sleepwalking until then. The mai tais kept coming, and I felt warmth fill me up from the inside, especially when the conversation lulled and Esteban had taken to staring at me in this absolutely carnal way that just screamed sex.
I was tempted to slip off my flip-flops and slide my bare foot up his pants leg. It would be completely unlike me, completely objectionable and completely wrong. And yet, the sexual tension between us had been mounting, becoming unbearable. The high I got from painting was starting to wear off, and even though I could see the lilac around my fingernails, I wanted something more. Another chance to prove that I was alive, and that I had some spark left in me.
Just before I was about to suggest we take a walk on the beach, his phone rang, playing Darth Vader’s theme from Star Wars. Okay, that had to be his boss.
He glanced at the screen in annoyance, and his finger hovered above it as he debated whether to answer it. Finally, he shot me an apologetic look. “Sorry, I have to take this,” he said, and held it up to his ear.
“Yes?” he said into the phone, polite but brimming with thinly veiled annoyance. He listened, closing his eyes. “I am busy right now. Yes. Having dinner. Why? Fish. Of course I am not alone.” A long pause and Esteban’s gaze moved to me. “I’m sitting with a very stunning woman. You would like her. No, I will not tell you her name.” Another pause. He looked at his watch. “I have fifteen minutes, there is plenty of time.”
Time for what?
He sighed. “Must you? Fine.” He cleared his throat and reached across the table to give me his phone. “He would like to speak with you.”
I raised my brows. “Who? Your boss?”
He nodded, his lips twisting into a grimace.
“Why does he want to talk to me?” I asked, feeling utterly confused and frightened. I stared at the phone, not wanting to take it.
“Please,” Esteban said. I could have sworn there was a hint of desperation on his face.
Jesus. Fine, I’d talk to him, the fucking boss of a drug cartel.
I gingerly took the phone from him and stared at the screen. It just said Darth Vader on it. Helpful.
“Hello?”
There was silence.
“Hello?” I said again.
Someone on the other end of the line took a breath. “You have a very pretty voice,” a man said. His voice was smooth, glacial, and calm with only the slightest hint of a Mexican accent.
“Thank you?”
“What is your name?” the man asked.
I didn’t want to say, now that Esteban wouldn’t tell him. “What is your name?” I asked. “The phone says you’re Darth Vader.”
The man on the other end—Darth Vader—laughed. Esteban was staring at me, wide-eyed. Well, if didn’t want me to tell his boss that, then he shouldn’t have handed me the phone.
“Well,” he said when he eventually recovered. “I can be Darth Vader for you, if you want.” His voice was as seductive as satin sheets, but I wasn’t fooled.
“So, why did you want to speak to me?” I asked, wanting nothing more than to hang up the phone and go back to the tiny slice of paradise that Esteban and I had created.
“I
