Lucky 7 Bad Boys Contemporary Romance Boxed Set (22 page)

"Seems to me that this man barely knows either one of us, so what could he possibly have to say?" he responded curtly.

She understood that he didn't want to talk about it, at least not now in the parking lot of the restaurant. But he had no doubt they would have to finally have the discussion he’d been avoiding for weeks.

Nodding, she walked to the passenger side and climbed in. Instead of the usual chit-chat that had accompanied their drive back to Rey's for the last three weeks, there was a cold strained silence.

After entering his apartment, Bianca faced him again and it was evident he was going to have to deal with whatever Pandora's box her friend Anthony had opened.

"So what did he have to say?" Rey asked.

"Actually, he didn't have much to say. Just that you and I needed to talk," she replied, walked over to his sofa, and sat. Giving him a strained smile, she patted the seat beside her, and tried to lighten the mood. "So, why don't you come on over here so we can do that?"

"I don't want to talk about it," he said harshly and stalked into the kitchen.

Bianca stared at the kitchen door as it swung closed and considered her options.

The first was to do nothing, but if there was one thing that she had wanted out of a relationship with him, it was honesty. She rose and followed him into the kitchen where he was busy yanking some steaks from the fridge.

She grabbed the freezer bag with the steaks, took it from his hands, and set it on the counter. Leaning back against the edge of it, she met his gaze. "I don't know what it could be that's so hard to tell me, Rey. And at this point, you’re not wanting to talk about it doesn't leave me with the warm fuzzies."

Rey stuffed his hands in the back pocket of his jeans and paced the width of the room once, then twice before finally giving in.

"What did he tell you?"

"Nothing. He said it wasn't his place to tell. That the telling was up to you," she said frankly and took a step toward him, wanting to reassure, but he pulled back, creating a physical gulf between them that mirrored the emotional gap that had been growing since Anthony's arrival.

"So? What's to tell?" she pressed.

Cursing under his breath, Rey raked his fingers through his hair and plopped down on a kitchen chair. Slowly, haltingly, he started, telling her about how his father had gotten ill and how he had taken over his Dad's responsibilities.

Bianca was impressed with the way he downplayed his role during those two trying years and came to stand before him. She laid her hands on his shoulders as he stopped, the emotion of the past clearly catching up to him. There was a decided strain in his voice as he described his father's final days and the aftermath of losing him and all that he had worked for.

It was then that anger crept into his voice as he described how hard he had struggled to make enough for his family to be able to afford certain things.

"I know you did what you could," she consoled.

He shook his head, clasped his hands together, and wrung them tightly. "What I did was ruin my family's life. Ruin their good name and bring them even more misery," he said tightly.

"I'm sure you tried -- "

"I tried every legal way I could think of to earn the money to pay for food, rent, and Daisy's school. When that wasn't enough, I was tempted to make the money in another way and I did. It nearly cost some people their lives," he finally said.

Bianca's blood ran cold at his words.

"Rey, you couldn't have done anything that bad," she said softly and approached him, reaching for him to stop, but he brushed off her arm.

"I spent some time in prison, Bianca. I don't want to talk about this anymore."

His pain was still raw, she realized, and would never heal. Well, not as long as he kept it locked up inside. Moreover, she wanted him to be able to trust her and be honest with her, which he hadn't been.

"We need to discuss this and what it means to us."

"No, Bianca. We don't. What happened has nothing to do with us," he said stiffly, his body taut beneath her hands.

"It has everything to do with us. You should have told me," she urged.

He bolted out of the chair and turned his back to her. He was silent for a moment and then he confronted her. "Of course. How stupid of me, Princess. I should have marched right up to a prospective client and said, 'Hire me 'cause I'm an ex-con and need the work.'"

"Don't retreat into that I'm a rich little girl and you're a poor boy from the
barrio
crap, Rey. We've gone way past that," she replied, growing frustrated.

"I told you once that there were things about me you might not like. Things I sure as hell don't like and don't want to dredge up again. I am what I am now. You have no right -- "

"No right?" she shot back angrily and tapped her chest to emphasize her point. "You took me to your bed. You made love to me and made me love you. I think that gives me the right, Rey."

Rey shook his head and took a step back when she went to embrace him. "I never lied to you. I was never dishonest," he said.

She could tell that she was getting nowhere, but what would they have if they didn't deal with this? How would they deal with other rough issues in the future if they were even meant to have a future.

"Sometimes you can lie by not saying anything at all, Rey."

He remained silent. He just stood there, his arms crossed tightly against his chest. His legs braced slightly apart as if in a fighting stance.

She laid a hand on the taut muscles of his chest and he flinched beneath her touch. Daring yet more, she moved her hand to cradle the line of his stubbornly set jaw and caressed it gently, almost sadly. "You of all people know how important it is that a foundation be sound. Otherwise, everything built on it doesn't matter. If the foundation isn't strong, it all comes crashing down eventually."

"There's nothing else to say, Bianca. I am what you see. A good man, you once told me," he replied and held his hands out, his gesture pleading for her to take what he said at face value.

She stepped away, but knowing she couldn't be satisfied with his answer. Walking out of the kitchen, she grabbed her bag, and was heading out the door of his apartment when he grabbed her arm, forcing her to stop.

"Bianca," he said, his voice rough with emotion. "Don't."

"Don't what? Love you? It's too late for that, but I can't. . ." She stopped, choking with emotion. Sucking in a deep breath, she looked down and ran a hand through her hair to draw away the strands that drifted into her face. With another rough inhalation, she met his gaze.

"No, not
can't
. I
won't
settle for anything less than all of you. Even the bad, Rey. But you're not willing to share that with me. Christ, you weren't even going to tell me, were you?"

The look of shame on his face answered her even before he released her arm and softly muttered, "No."

She nodded and bit her lower lip to fight back the tears she refused to shed. "When you're ready to talk, to be honest with me, you know where I’ll be."

Without waiting for his reply, she walked out the door.

Chapter Seventeen

"Dream of me," he had beseeched her weeks earlier.

Now those dreams had turned into nightmares, she thought as she rose after a sleepless night and headed to her kitchen to try and make something to help her rest.

She opened her fridge and removed a quart of milk. Fishing a mug out of one of the overhead cabinets, she filled it with the milk and then rummaged through her assortment of spices. Finding her bottle filled with fragrant cinnamon sticks, she dropped one into the mug. She located the last necessary ingredient in Maya's grandma's secret recipe.

Fragrant orange blossom honey.

One time when she had visited Alex at school, she had come down with a cold and Maya had made her this wonderful remedy.

Bianca added a generous spoonful of honey to the milk mixture and placed the mug into her microwave, heating the mixture until the milk was steaming.

Removing the mug from the oven, she placed it on the counter to give it a few minutes to cool down and for the flavor from the cinnamon stick to seep into the liquid.

Maya swore that she'd always felt better after a cold by taking her grandmother’s secret recipe.

Bianca had discovered that the mix worked well on insomnia as well, something she'd been suffering from regularly since her fight with Rey days earlier.

She'd left his apartment and used her cell phone to call Eduardo and Diane who had driven the short distance to pick her up and offered her a bed for the night. She'd explained to them what had happened. They had commiserated and told her they were sure it was something that would blow over quickly once Rey realized that it was best to get it out and get over it.

It was now days later and Rey still hadn't approached her. In fact, he seemed to be doing his best to avoid her, managing the job from afar through John-John and coming over only at night after she had left.

After the closeness they had shared during the last few weeks, it was downright lonely without him. In that short time, she'd grown used to the feel of his big body lying in bed next to her, his warmth surrounding her at night. She'd grown greedy for the way he could make her feel as they made love. Worse, she suspected she'd never find another man who could inject such a mixture of passion, humor, love, and excitement into her life.

She missed sharing a sandwich with him at lunch hour and talking over the progress they had both made during the day. She longed for one of those quiet nights they'd come to share in his home as he'd sit at his desk, working and sketching, and she'd be off in his kitchen, the door propped open so that they could trade an occasional word while she experimented with a recipe for something new.

He'd become a major part of her life very quickly and she had thought he'd felt the same way.

But of course, how could she know that? she chastised.

She thought that she'd known him only to find out he had secrets he'd been keeping from her. Hidden things in his life which he clearly didn't want to share, and yet, she felt she needed to know them so that they could build a life together.

She'd be the first to admit she'd been shocked at his admission that he'd spent time in prison, but the statement hadn't bothered her as much as the fact that he hadn't told her and still refused to tell her why. The not knowing part was harder.

Bianca grabbed her mug of milk and sat down in her bed. She sipped the milk as she considered why Rey couldn't understand.

Why had Rey had kept it from her?

As she slowly drank down the milk, she ran over all the times they had spent together and tried to insert a moment when Rey might have turned to her and said, "Hello, I'm an ex-con".

In all fairness to him, she was hard pressed to find such a moment.

From the second she had laid eyes on him, their relationship had seemed to be in fast forward. Truth be told, she had fallen so hard and so quickly for him, that she hadn't paused to think about his past life. She knew what he was now and had only imagined what the future might hold for them. The past had held no sway over their possible lives together.

In fact, it had never occurred to her that the past would derail whatever was developing between them.

As the hot sweet milk started to take effect, Bianca grew drowsy. She set the mug to the side, snuggled up bed, and let herself dream.

He came to her in her dreams and she was home once again.

* * *

Rey lingered at his office over the cup of nearly ice-cold
cafe con leche
languishing on his desk. Before him sat the sketches for the one wall of Bianca's restaurant. Sketches he had been busily drawing while she whipped up another unusual dish in the kitchen. Next to the sketches was a list of art students from the local high school whom he had hired to make the drawing a reality.

He had planned on the surprise for the night of the big party to show off the restaurant to family, friends, and some very select food critics.

A night that was now only a week away.

Since breaking up with her, they had made incredible progress in finishing up the project, in part due to the long hours he had put in late at night to avoid seeing her and dealing with their problems.

The wall would have been his gift to her to celebrate everything that she had become in his life.

He had planned on taking Bianca home after the party and handing her the small box that sat next to the list which sat next to the sketches. He reached for the box and popped it open to reveal the glittering diamond solitaire inside. He'd had it for over two weeks.

Time and time again he'd imagined how he would ask her to marry him and her response. Imagined setting it on her slender finger and the way she’d smile at him and love would creep into her amazing grey-green eyes.

With a curse, he snapped the lid closed, berating himself for the foolishness he'd indulged in. He hadn't known her long enough for such plans. She didn't know the real him. The real man she would most likely not have wanted to spend the rest of her life with. She was a good Cuban girl and women like her didn't marry low-class ex-con Puerto Rican manual laborers.