Chapter 33 Telling lies
Ben rubs my arms and kisses me softly in the neck.
There is none of the electric desire I feel when I'm with Black. What if I have gone my whole life without feeling just a snippet of that? And how am I supposed to go back to this feeling of ..... nothing?
"Can I come in? Spend the night?" He asks cautiously.
He must feel me freezing in his arms, because he sighs and takes a step back from me, pocketing his hands in a move that is so reminiscent of his brother.
"Listen, I know I've been a dick these last few months." There's regret in his blue eyes. "And if you wanna take things slow, I understand that."
The words "I slept with your brother", ring in my brain, but of course I'm not going to tell him that. I'll take it with me to the grave if I have to.
The question is, what is Miguel going to do about it?
Is he going to use that knowledge to blackmail me?
That has to be the reason behind all of this. He's using me as leverage to whatever vendetta he's got going on with Ben.
"You're right, I need some time." I lie flawlessly.
I have gotten so good at fucking lying. Not just to Ben, but to my family, and worst of all, to myself.
The truth is, I know what I want. But what I want is not what my family wants and needs, and also not my high school sweetheart who is standing in front of me with turmoil in his eyes.
"I'm sorry." I say immediately. "I know that's not what you want to hear."
He steps closer to me again and panic rushes through me when he takes my face in his hand and softly kisses me again.
"I'll wait forever for you Madison Cargill." He whispers before kissing me again and turning around to go.
Oh god. He called me Madison Cargill. That's what he used to call me in our senior year when he vowed to one day make me his wife. Back then, I ate up everything he said with stars in my eyes.
I unlock my door and hurriedly close it behind me before he gets any ideas to come inside again.
The place is quiet, and I wonder if he's here, if he's waiting around the corner to punish me. My ass clenches just at the thought of him and the way he battered into me last night.
But he's not.
I walk through my whole apartment, waiting for him to catch me, but he's not hiding anywhere. I even check inside the closets with Ben's clothes still hanging in the spare bedroom that he despised.
So I get undressed and slip naked in-between my bed sheets, waiting for the Phantom to appear.
But he doesn't, and when I finally fall asleep, there is still no sign of him.
I have a slight headache when I wake up the next morning. In the past, I would've reached for the bottle of pain killers and went about my day, but I'm cautious of them now after I almost started misusing them with my ankle.
So I do what I always do in the mornings. I stretch my muscles until they have nowhere left to go in my private studio. That's the one thing money can buy that I've loved. My very own space where I can dance without anyone watching, or judging.
I check my phone afterwards, and I'm a total bitch when I ignore Ben's messages about meeting him and his mother for lunch.
I think I've seen enough of Caroline in one night to hold me over for the new week.
And my aunt hates her. When she dislikes someone, there is usually a good reason for that.
I do read my family's messages on the group chat, and I agree to lunch with them. I hardly pitch up without Ben, but when I go over to my aunt's house where the festivities are being held today, there are surprisingly no questions about where he is.
Instead, my aunt excitedly walks over to me with one of her grandkids propped on her hip.
"You would never guess who came over!" Aunt Farrah whisper-yells excitedly.
"Who?" There isn't anyone I can think about that would elicit this reaction from her. She's usually the chilled one, but now she's acting more like my mother.
She opens her mouth to answer, but then the door to my uncle's office opens.
My mouth drops open in shock just before my heart starts beating wildly in my chest.
Out walks Miguel Cargill, looking exactly like Black.
His powerful thighs are encased in black jeans, his feet in those biker boots that I know all too well, and his well-built torso is clothed in a black long-sleeved Henley.
Underneath his arm is a black helmet.
My nieces are playing around us being noisy, but my attention is on him and him alone.
God, the way he is handsome is completely unnerving. And when he notices me standing there, those oceanlike blue eyes start smoldering, igniting a fire deep in my belly.
My eyes go to the helmet under his arm, and he smirks dangerously.
He knows that I know.