Page 22 of Tainted Truth
“Yes, Angel. I know you’re the jealous type. We won’t sleep with anyone else.”
“I don’t need anyone else when I have you two,” Rio adds.
“As for how this will work, I’m not sure. We’ll take it one day at a time. We can discuss the rest at home, okay?”
Nodding my head, he removes his hand.
Home.
Blushing furiously, I look away retreating into myself as a I brace for the loneliness to come next, but neither of them let go of my legs as Zane grabs a cloth from the shelf above the toilet and wets it in the sink behind me. He cleans up the mess I made then gives me a tender kiss.
Tears form in my eyes, and I do my best to hold them back, but they spring free when Rio takes a turn kissing me. These kisses are different from the ones a few seconds ago—they’re soft and sweet, filled with devotion.
Zane wipes my tears as Rio puts my pants back on.
“You’re our everything. Don’t forget that, Angel.”
Once Rio buttons my jeans, I look down in confusion—something feels weird. Then I see Rio hold up my black thong. I grab for it, but he raises his hand, yanking them out of my reach.
“These are mine,” he says with a smirk then brings them to his nose and inhales before he stuffs them into his pocket and leads the way back outside.
Before we reach the back door, Zane’s phone buzzes. He peers at it and mumbles something about “stupid cops” and Asher being on stakeout duty.
I keep my face composed as I take my seat at the table, but I turn a deep shade of red when I feel Asher’s gaze zero in on my neck.
Shit. Did Rio leave a hickey?
I cover it up with my hair and dig back into my food, hoping that if I don’t talk about it, we can pretend no one knew what happened in the bathroom.
Mateo not so quietly whispers to Carmen, “Maybe you, Diego, Gabriel, and I need to take a trip to the bathroom too.”
Carmen chokes on her food, and I cover my face, absolutely mortified.
CHAPTER 7
SPENCER
After dinner, the men involved in the scuffle are forced to clear the table and wash all the dishes by hand. Throughout the cleanup, each side takes little jabs at each other. They whisper insults, trip each other, and exchange scowls.
These scary men, each with a body count that’s likely higher than I can count, have reduced themselves to squabbling children.
While they clean, Paloma leads me to the couch with a mug of Mexican hot cocoa. I could take this as an opportunity to rat out the guys, but I find myself incapable of forming the words. Instead, I want to soak in the love Paloma gifts so freely. I didn’t realize how starved I was for a mother’s gentle touch.
Across the room, Solana sits in a chair by the window, overlooking the backyard, still reading. Elena left right after we finished eating when she got a call to go into work—she’s a trauma surgeon at St. Barnabas Hospital. Mariela left claiming she had a date, and Carmen tried to dip as well but none of the five angry men were having it. She’s currently at the kitchen table chewing on her nails and ignoring the pointed looks she keeps getting while studying for the LSATs.
Asher is keeping her company at the table since he wasn’t involved in the skirmish.
I’m settling in when Paloma joins me with her own mug; I almost spit my warm chocolatey drink all over the living room when Paloma asks, “So tell me, which of my boys are you with?” I choke and cough like I’m about to hack up a lung. “Or is it all three?”
My chin dips down as I look anywhere but her, and I stammer, “I—Umm—Well?—”
Paloma sets our mugs on the coffee table, gently grabs my hand, and pats the top of it. “It’s all right. No need to be alarmed. There’s no judgement here,mija.”
When I finally pick my head up and look into her eyes, I know she means it. She isn’t that crazy mom who chases away her son’s girlfriend. She doesn’t criticize what she doesn’t know. She doesn’t condemn what isn’t considered normal.
“It’s a bit complicated at the moment,” I finally get out.
She nods her head. “Isn’t it always. What’s love without a little complexity?”
