Page 34 of Be With Me
Why was she asking about him?
Hold on.
I sat back, tipping my head slightly as I took her in.
Mia Morales wasn’t selfish. Everything I’d learned about her said the opposite. So what was more likely—that she'd taken this job to save her business?
Or to save someone else?
“Why do you want to know about my brother?”
She shifted in her seat. “He’s marrying my best friend. Is it so surprising that I’d be curious about him?”
There it was. She was concerned about Fabiana.
Cos had been a shitty fiancé so far, and I was sure Mia had heard all about it from Fabi this past week. After she'd finally learned the truth about her friend. After she'd crashed a party she had no business being at.
And now she was swooping in, trying to protect her.
Fuck me. This girl had a savior complex.
I dragged my palm over my lips. I could use this.
“All right,” I said easily. “I’ll tell you about him. But it’s a question for a question. One from you, one from me.”
Her brows furrowed. “Fine.”
I smiled. She was so eager for information, so desperate to know if her best friend was walking into a nightmare. She wasn’t even trying to hide it.
Her throat worked around her next words. “Is he going to hurt her?”
I held her gaze. “Cos doesn’t hurt women.” I paused. “Not physically, at least.”
She stared at me, waiting, expecting me to say more. I didn’t. I never said more than I needed to.
It was my turn now.
“What’s the real reason your father is so fucking obsessed with my family?”
Her lips—those soft,berry-coated lips—pressed into a thin line. “Haven’t you watched any of his rallies? Your family is the reason my uncle is dead.”
“Yeah, I know. Caught in a shootout a fucking century ago.”
“More like thirty years,” she corrected.
“Before either of us were born. Your dad really knows how to hold a grudge, huh?”
“He only wants justice.”
“He was happy enough living without it for more than half of his life. You know there has to be something else.”
She seemed confused. “Something else? I don’t know what you mean.”
Was that a lie? I searched her expression, waiting for a tell—the flick of her gaze, the twitch of her fingers.
Nothing.
“You really?—“
