Making my way to the bathroom, I turn on the shower full blast. Before the water is even hot, I step inside, letting it wash away my sins. Even the ones I don’t regret.
At least they were finally mine to make.
Control and freedom are two words I’ve craved but have been denied for years. Equal opportunity may be a right in the States, but things aren’t so cut and dry where I’m from.
Not that women don’t hold power in my world. I’m just not part of that exclusive club.
I’m Valentin Carrera’s daughter. The king’s innocent cielito.
His little sky.
I’m much too fragile to be tainted by the blood staining the hands of every member of my family. Ay Dios mío, I couldn’t even cross the border and go to college without two huge bodyguards and my fucking brother lurking behind every damn tree.
Maybe that’s why I did it.
After stepping out of the shower, my mind spins like a Tilt-a-Whirl as I rush to throw on a pair of loose-fitting shorts and the least wrinkled shirt I can find. No time for makeup.
Like that won’t look suspicious.
I bite my lip while towel-drying my hair. My rebellion last night was stupid, but exhilarating. I’ve kept a low profile since arriving on campus, so when my friend Nicole suggested we blow off some steam, I was all in.
Party? Hell yeah. Booze? Bring it. Rich boys? Even better.
Then she said his name.
Sam Colton.
Slipping on a pair of sandals, I grab my phone and car keys and rush out the door, my hangover and stinging skin already forgotten. Instead, my head fills with a permanent smirk and a pair of soulless dark eyes.
Eyes so black I’m not sure there’s a beginning or end.
Just infinite night.
Taking the stairs two at a time, I keep a check on the time as I race across the parking lot toward my white BMW. I’m halfway there when a cool breeze licks down the back of my neck, causing my steps to falter.
My father’s words ring like a church bell in my ears. Always trust your instincts, cielito.
“Is someone there?”
Of course, no one answers. The majority of the campus is still sleeping away their hangovers. Still, my feet refuse to move, cemented to the ground by a fatal curiosity.
I know all about the statistics of campus assault. I’m a prime target. Young girl alone… No one around to hear her cries for help… It’s a thought that should terrify me, but it doesn’t.
It excites me.
There’s something familiar in the air. Something forbidden and dangerous, yet tantalizing and enticing.
Tightening my hold around the key fob, I hover my thumb over the panic button. “That’s it,” I mutter, shaking my head. “No more alcohol.”
After settling behind the wheel, I lock the door and let out an unsettled breath. Son of a bitch, I can’t shake the feeling I’m being watched.
Stalked.
Hunted.
As if my every move is a choreographed step in someone else’s dance.
“You’re losing it, Carrera.” Starting the ignition, I turn to back out of the parking spot, when the wound on my stomach stings under the crude bandage I fashioned earlier. The corners of my mouth turn down, my momentary euphoria tanking at the bleak reminder.
I should’ve suggested we go to another party, but I didn’t. Even though I knew better. Even though I’ve been cautioned.
“Stay away from Sam Colton, chaparrita. He’s dangerous.”
I rolled my eyes when my brother issued his warning. How could the hottest, most popular boy on campus be the most hazardous to my health? What the hell did he know about Sam that I didn’t?
Temptation is a baited trap. Last night, I crept closer, knowing the second I touched the forbidden treat, a hair trigger would snap my neck.
But there’s something about Sam… Something so fucking mesmerizing it’s worth the risk. Danger is the most addictive drug, and Sam Colton has me hooked.
Chapter Four
Lola
“Not hungry?” My brother raises an eyebrow at me from across the small table.
I glance down at my untouched plate. “I don’t like pizza.” Ugh, why did he have to pick an Italian restaurant? Thanks to our father, that asshole has more money than all of New Jersey combined, yet here we sit in some godawful strip mall pizzeria.
“Bullshit. That ham and pineapple stuff is your favorite.”
My stomach lurches. “Santi, please,” I whisper, placing my napkin on my plate, and gracias a Dios, blocking the layer of grease from sight. “Will you lay off already?”
“No.” He tosses me a smug smirk.
I scrunch my nose in disgust. If we weren’t in a public place, I’d punch that smirk right off his face. Instead, I glare at him. “I’m sick, all right?” Crossing my arms, I slump into my chair. “I think I have the flu.”
“You smell like last call.” My big brother leans forward, the gold flecks in his eyes glittering with accusation. “The only thing you have is a hangover.” I jump as he slams his fist onto the table. “What have I told you about the consequences of drinking around strangers?”
“That I could have fun?”
Santi’s fist tightens, the vein in his temple pulsing with every grind of his teeth. Christ, he’s the spitting image of papá. “You’re testing me, chaparrita,” he warns darkly.
I cringe at the sound of his childhood nickname for me. Shorty.
“You could risk getting hurt,” he continues, pausing on a slow inhale. “Where did you go last night? Felipe is getting his balls chopped off because of you.”
My jaw drops. “What? Why?”
His eyes flash with an unforgiving truth no border walls can contain. “He’s one of your personal guards, Lola. Papá’s direct link to you besides me. What did you think would happen when you ditched him last night?”
Oh fuck.
That’s just it; I didn’t think. Our father is merciless enough, but when it comes to me, he’s inhuman. For some reason, I flip a switch in him even mamá can’t
