His Territory

19

I shake my head quickly, gesturing for Carlos to follow me back into the bedroom. "I'll get back in the shower. Just tell him you found me here and were about to call him."

He gives a quiet chuckle, nodding. "Alright."

I rush into the bathroom, turning the water back on and letting it cascade over my body, willing the steady stream to calm my nerves. I brace myself, listening closely as the front door crashes open, Cristian's voice booming down the hallway.

"¿Por qué estás aquí? Is she here?" Cristian yells, his voice thick with frustration.

"Cállate, 'mano." Carlos's tone is steady, almost casual. "She's here, but she's in the bathroom. I heard her crying in the shower."

Cristian's footsteps draw closer, the heavy thud of his boots echoing into the bedroom. "Why didn't you call me?" he demands.

"I was just about to, bro. I swear."

I take deep breaths, forcing myself to stay calm as I wait for the inevitable confrontation. The silence stretches, tension thick in the air.

"You can leave now," Cristian finally says, his voice low and unmistakably final.

I listen as Carlos's footsteps retreat down the hallway, followed by the front door slamming shut with a jarring bang that echoes through the house. I scrub my skin under the hot spray, more to keep my hands busy than anything else.

The bathroom door creaks open, and I freeze as Cristian steps inside. "Amor, estoy aquí," he says softly. "When you're done, I'll be in your room."

I shut off the water and reach for a towel, wrapping it tightly around myself, but before I can fully cover up, the door opens again. Cristian stands there, his face lined with exhaustion, his shoulders slumped, the fire in his eyes dulled. He crosses the room in two quick strides, pulling me into his arms, the towel barely clinging to me in his embrace.

"Mi reina," he murmurs, his voice thick with regret. "Perdóname, por fa'. I shouldn't have said what I did. I'm a huge fucking idiot." His grip tightens, pinning my arms to my sides, but I stay silent, unmoving as he holds me close.

He lets out a shaky breath, his lips brushing my neck, sending a shiver down my spine. "You were right," he continues, his voice a low murmur. "Their clean money is better than a million of mine, any day. We can use that to get a house, a ring, whatever you want. If they're not going to hurt you, then we'll go for it."

I stay rigid as he pulls back, keeping his hands on my shoulders. "But we'll only do it for a hundred and fifty thousand—no less. With that, and the cash I've stashed away, we can get out of California. You'll have the life you deserve."

I nod slowly, still not looking up at him. He slips a hand under my chin, lifting my face to meet his eyes. My towel loosens, slipping down to just cover my chest. His gaze softens, and he brings a hand to his heart.

"I promise you," he whispers, his tone fierce, "nothing bad will happen while you're with me."

His hand drifts from his chest, grazing my shoulder, and the towel slips further, finally pooling at my feet. We stand there, silent, the air between us charged, every word unspoken as I look into his eyes and wonder what lies ahead.