Redeemed (Dirty Air #4)(73)

She rocks back on her sneakers. “But…”

I cover my smile with my hand. “Yes?”

“Maybe I’ll agree if you tell me the real reason you want me to move in with you.”

I weigh the cost of telling her the truth. Not the flowery words I shared prior, but the real deal.

I’m tempted to call her out on her bluff, but her clutching onto her luggage and rolling it toward her has me stopping myself.

Shit. Will she really leave?

“The past few days in the hotel have been incredible. I don’t want to go back to how things were.”

“And how’s that?”

“Lonely. Without you and Marko, the thought of being on my own again is awful. Absolutely unbearable. It’s like I had a gaping hole in my chest that only started being filled over the last few weeks.”

Her bottom lip juts out. “Oh, Santiago.”

I step up to her, grabbing the handle of her luggage and pushing it in the opposite direction. “And most of all, you make the bad days better. I want more of that. If you go, I’m afraid I’ll go back to the way things were.”

She runs her hand down my chest before placing it against my rapidly beating heart. “I don’t want to be a crutch. You need to fight for yourself because you want to. Not because I’m here, for however long that is.”

Something in my chest constricts over her leaving permanently. “I do want to fight for myself. That’s the point. And you’re not a crutch. You’re part of the foundation to help me get where I want to be.”

“And that is?”

“Accepting that, while I can never be the man I was, I can become a man you want to be with.” I brush my thumb across her bottom lip.

Her eyes widen. “You can’t be serious.”

“Why not?”

“We don’t know each other well enough.”

“Give me a chance then. A real chance. No faking. No pretending. Just us spending time together, learning about each other.”

She tugs her bottom lip between her teeth. The silence sets me on edge, but I hold out, hoping she will give in.

She lets out a tense breath. “Okay. But there is one house rule.”

“Name it and it’s yours.”

“No sex. Until you work on yourself—for real—I’m not sleeping with you. Bottom line.”

Mierda. I nod my head, accepting my fate. If it’s a battle with myself that Chloe wants, then it’s a battle she’s bound to get.

Except I refuse to be a loser this time.





“Please tell me why the fuck some woman called my assistant asking for your number, Santiago.” Noah skips the pleasantries, jumping straight into the reason behind his random call.

“Who?”

“Anne Carter called asking to get in contact with you. You know, Chloe’s mother?”

Now I have a full name to the horrendous stories Chloe shared about her mother. Edginess creeps up my spine at the deranged woman attempting to infiltrate my inner circle. That stops now. Chloe’s spent her entire life escaping the grasps of her mother, and I’ll be damned if she haunts her in Europe, too.

“What did she want?” I snarl.

“Beats me. She left a slurred voicemail about needing to speak to you because she can’t get in contact with Chloe. I feel the need to warn you...”

Fuck! This is all my fault. I’m the one that pushed Chloe into the spotlight, and now her mother found out.

“Did she leave a callback number?”

“Why don’t you ask your girlfriend?”

“Seeing as she has a restraining order against her mom’s boyfriend, is that really the best idea?”

Noah huffs. “No.”

“Then give me her number.”

Noah rattles off the number Chloe’s mom left his assistant. A part of me wants to tell Chloe about her mother contacting Noah, but I’m struck with an intense urge to protect her. I don’t want to bring up old memories, especially if it’s my fault in the first place. Her mother wouldn’t bother with Chloe if it weren’t for me.

Chloe didn’t ask for this kind of attention. Hell, she warned me against it in the first place. It’s my responsibility to fix whatever damage has been done and hope her mother crawls back into whatever pocket of hell she came from.

I dial the number. It rings before going to voicemail. My second attempt is a success, with Anne’s rasp of a voice answering after the third ring. “Hello.”

“This is Santiago Alatorre.”

“Well, I didn’t think my message would actually make it back to you.” Her voice fails to match the soothing one Chloe has.

“I’ll start this call with telling you to never call Noah Slade again. Hell, don’t contact anyone who has anything to do with me, Chloe included.”

“That’s a big claim for someone who is hiding an even bigger secret.”

“What secret?” Is she high right now?

“The fact that you’re shacking up with someone who was arrested for aggravated assault charges.”

Fuck. I nearly drop the phone before catching it. “Excuse me?”

“Chloe attacked my poor boyfriend, Ralph, when she was in high school. Left him with a concussion, two broken ribs, and a chipped tooth according to the hospital report I have. Somehow her social worker convinced the cops to drop the charges, but it doesn’t matter. With your fame, I doubt it’s something you want associated with your name. Now is it?”