Santiago stares at me with such intensity, my stomach muscles clench. “Well, you better get some rest before breakfast tomorrow.” He opens the front door for me.
My jaw drops. “Wait. What about my phone?”
“You’ll get it tomorrow after breakfast. Consider it collateral.”
“You really are a psycho.” I huff under my breath.
“Funny, I’d say the same about someone who would trespass not once, but twice on the same person’s property. Speaking of—which window did you break to get inside? I’m assuming you won’t cover the bill based on the state of your clothing.” He runs a finger down the ripped back of my shirt. His touch sets off a bodily reaction I have no time to comprehend. I can only describe it as fireworks shooting off my skin, forcing every cell inside of me into overdrive.
I suck in a breath and turn on my heel, facing him in all his handsome glory. “I’m more talented than that.”
“I apologize for underestimating your abilities after yesterday’s shitty display of sneaking around.”
I rub my heart like his words hurt me. “One: I wasn’t sneaking around. And two: I don’t like you.”
“Okay. Sure.” He scoffs. “I don’t need you to like me. I just need you to show up and pretend for a little longer. See you in the morning.” He shoots me a tight smile before shutting the door in my face with a soft thud.
The audacity of this man. I want to hate it, but I end up respecting him for acting unapologetically himself.
Santiago whatever-his-last-name-is seems like the kind of man to trap people into giving him what he wants. And like an idiot, I willingly fly straight into his web of lies.
7
Santiago
I’ve made a handful of stupid decisions over the past twenty-four hours. After my accident, I swore off impulsivity like the plague. Reckless choices ruined everything I had set up for my life, and I refused to fall into the same trap again. Yet here I am, making stupid decision after stupid decision ever since Chloe entered my life forty-eight hours ago.
I didn’t anticipate Chloe breaking into my house while we took Marko for a walk by the lake. She has turned out to be a rather unexpected whirlwind in my painfully mundane life. I don’t like it one bit. The simplicity of repetition means I can’t fuck up my life anymore. My days usually include waking up, exercising, cooking, and working on whatever car I decide to restore next. As long as I’m not sinking into the dark place of my mind, I push myself to keep busy.
Chloe threw everything to hell once my sister laid eyes on her. Her breaking and entering forced me to make up a lie that has Maya practically foaming at the mouth in excitement. So much so, Maya woke up at the same time as me to question me about Chloe. I entertain her curiosity because she has had enough shit happen to her lately. If this conversation makes her happy, I’ll give it to her.
“Chloe seems nice.” She bats her lashes.
Chloe seems like a criminal who needs to be locked up, but I refrain from fact-dropping. “That she is.”
“What’s she like?”
“Sneaky and cunning.”
Maya laughs. “Reminds me of you, seeing as you kept her a secret for how long?”
“A year?” It seems like a solid amount of time.
“A year?!” Maya screeches to the ceiling. “How could you keep this from us for that long?”
I lift a brow and wave my hands at her reaction.
She laughs. “Okay, true. But still. Keeping secrets from me is so not cool.”
I survive another ten minutes of Maya’s questions. So far, I’ve made up Chloe’s hobby for restoring cars with me, our bond over horror movies, and her preference for chocolate over candy. I’ve basically created a female version of myself that my sister gushes over. She’s so enthralled, she doesn’t realize the unlikely similarities.
“Why haven’t you ever mentioned her before?”
“Because of the way you’re acting now.” Good save, Santi.
“Mami is going to freak out when she hears about this.”
“Don’t tell her yet.” I don’t want my mom to grow attached to my fake girlfriend. The same girlfriend who has absolutely no clue who the hell I am, let alone about my family and Formula 1. That information in itself adds to my interest in her. And interest is bad. Interest leads to infatuation, and I can’t bother entertaining either.
“I’ll give you two weeks to tell her yourself. She’s on a cruise anyway so she won’t be able to rush over and bombard Chloe like I’d want her to. But if you don’t tell her, I will because there’s no chance I’m letting you get out of them meeting each other.”