𝗛𝗶𝘀 𝗠𝗼𝗻𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗼𝘂𝘀 𝗧𝗼𝘂𝗰𝗵

9 - La Mano Nascosta.

The morning sun sliced through the curtains, stabbing straight into my skull like a jackhammer. My head pounded with every beam of light, making me regret every single glass of wine from last night. The memory of his lips on mine that was driving me insane.

I scrubbed my mouth like I could somehow erase the feeling. His kiss—how the hell did he think that was okay? The nerve of him made my skin crawl. How could he pull something like that? Maybe looking after him at the hospital gave him the wrong idea, made him think it was alright to cross boundaries like that.

I leaned against the bathroom sink, staring at my reflection. Bloodshot eyes stared back, the stupid mess of emotions was all too visible. Anger, regret, disgust—they all swirled together, staring right back at me. I'd let my guard down for a second, and he took advantage of it. Now I was stuck dealing with the fallout-guilt and rage. One thing was for damn sure: last night's mistake wasn't going to happen again.

A sharp knock and Melinda's too-cheerful voice broke through my thoughts. "Yessie! You up yet?"

"Yeah, yeah, just a sec," I mumbled, stumbling over to open the door.

Melinda bounced in with a grin, way too bright for someone who'd been downing wine all night with me. "Girl, you look like an unmade bed," she teased, her laughter way too loud for my current state.

I groaned, rubbing my eyes. "Gee, thanks for the wake-up call."

"You're welcome!" she chirped, clearly in a better mood than I was prepared for. I shuffled toward the shower, hoping the hot water would wash away not just the hangover but the memory of him.

The hot water poured over me, easing some of the tension from my body. I stood there with my eyes closed, letting the warmth soak into my muscles and the vanilla-scented shower gel glide over my skin. Then, out of nowhere, it hit me again—his damn kiss. His lips were stamped into my memory. I could still feel the tingle, as if his touch hadn't left, just wouldn't leave. My cheeks burned, and I leaned against the cold tiles, replaying it in my head for the hundredth time. The water pounded against me, trying to drown out the thoughts, but it just wasn't working. I could still taste him, still feel his hands tangled in my hair. It pissed me off.

I rinsed off quickly and stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around myself. I felt a little more like a functioning human, though far from ready to face the day with any sort of energy.

Melinda and I shuffled out of the room, and as we walked down the hall, we ran into Diego, giving us his usual death stare, like he'd just crawled out of the wrong side of a crypt.

"Morning!" Melinda chirped, totally unphased by his frosty glare. Diego grunted and stormed into his office, slamming the door behind him. "Does he not realize he's an asshole, or does he just not care?" she muttered.

"A healthy dose of both, actually," Luca's voice cut in as he appeared, flashing that easy smile of his.

"I'm sorry," she said, caught off guard by Luca overhearing her.