Dangerously Irresistible

CHAPTER FOUR

~    P U E R T O     R  I C O    ~

⤝ ⤝ ⤝ ⤝ ⤝ ⤝ ⤝   R O S E   ⤞ ⤞ ⤞ ⤞ ⤞ ⤞ ⤞

Tap. Tap. Tap.

 Tap. Tap.

 The sound of the pencil in my hand being tapped against the mahogany wood of my desk resonated throughout my spacious office.

 I barely noticed it, too focused on my thoughts as I sat behind my desk, lost in thought and absentmindedly tapping one of the many long, perfectly sharpened pencils that were stuck in the ornate pencil holder on my desk.

 I was thinking about Sean. His quick exit that night at the gala had been a surprise. I hadn't expected him to leave when I'd started crying.

 I hadn't even expected myself to start crying but the emotions that Sean had triggered with his touch and words had caused me to.

 Remembering the way I'd cried that night, I shuddered. It had been a while since I'd cried so hard with so much despair. There was a time when the unbearable amount of angst, sorrow and hopelessness that caused my eyes to sting with tears and my body to quiver with sobs had been a familiar feeling.

 A feeling that came every night — nay, every time I was left alone with nothing to occupy myself and keep my mind from thinking about him.

 I remembered that time and felt my eyes tear up.

 The mind-blowing sorrow I'd felt. I'd never experienced sorrow like that before.

 At least when my mom had died, I'd known that she'd loved me. Known without a doubt that it hadn't been her choice to leave me and that had it been for her to decide, she never would have.

 As for Luke... His betrayal had hurt, there was no denying that. I'd met him during a particularly dark period of my life.

 I still remembered our first encounter...

...FLASHBACK...

It was a Sunday during early summer.

 And what a summer day it was! The sun blazed down mercilessly, so brightly that it hurt the eyes to look outside and causing the air itself to feel unbearably warm.

 But despite the fact that it was scorching outside and merely stepping out of the house seemed to cause perspiration, the kids of the foster house I'd stayed at still had to do our chores.

 And due to my misfortune, that Saturday my chores were to mow the lawn and polish the Toyota that Monty, my foster father drove. Both chores required me to go outside and spend hours in the sweltering sun.

 I'd asked if I could skip them today after breakfast but my desperate request had been met with anger and scorn.

 "Not do your chores?" Marty had asked, incredulously.

 "I don't mean — It's just so hot today. I'll do them tomorrow, I promise," I'd said, refusing to give up hope.

 "And I'm supposed to go to work while my Toyota is filthy?" Marty had demanded. "No, you're going to go outside and clean my car!"

 "But —"

 "No 'but's!" Monty had roared, his voice filled with anger and eyes flashing.

 I'd cowered under that glare and had muttered my consent with my head hung low.

 Now, though, I was wondering if I should've held my chin up and refused again. The sun's heat was unbearable!