Page 16 of Winning Match
She smiles, dropping the lip gloss into her purse. “I did, too. I haven’t spent much time in Valencia in years. I’m happy I met you.”
“Me too.” I mean it. Bianca may be the first friend my own age that I’ve connected with since… I started dating Gerard.
The red flags are there.
Gladys was right. And I wasted so much time, so much life, ignoring them.
Well, not anymore. I link my arm with Bianca’s and we step out of the bathroom where Ale, Luca, and Andrés wait, casually leaning against a wall.
“Hungry?” Luca asks.
“Starving,” Bianca says.
Andrés grins, tossing an arm around her shoulders as we turn toward a back exit.
“Come, Marli.” Ale extends his hand, and I take it. “Let’s eat and then I’ll get you home. Just in time for sunrise.”
I wince, not wanting him to know that I haven’t lined up a hotel room yet. “Oh, you don’t have to do that. I can grab a cab or?—”
“Where are you staying?” he asks as he ushers me into the back seat of a waiting black SUV.
I note Bianca, Luca, and Andrés slip into the SUV in front of ours.
Fastening my seat belt, I blush and bite my bottom lip.
Understanding washes over Ale’s expression and he squeezes my hand reassuringly as he closes the SUV door. “Don’t worry about anything, mi niña. We’ll get it all sorted.”
And I believe him.
Is that a mistake? Another red flag I’m not skilled enough to notice?
6
Ale
I hate the idea of Marlowe staying in the same hotel as her ex-boyfriend. But a few hundred-euro notes slipped to the receptionist at the luxury hotel in the old part of the city confirms that the bastard is checking out in the morning.
Since Marlowe left her suitcase here, I figure this is the easiest option. It’s nearing seven a.m. and Marlowe is dead on her feet—jet lag mixed with alcohol and emotional duress causing her to sway from exhaustion.
“He’ll be gone by the time you wake in the morning,” I assure her, deciding I’ll come and physically put him in a taxi to the airport if I have to.
Marlowe shakes her head, her eyelids heavy. “I’m not worried about Gerard.”
No, she’s not. But I sure as hell am.
Erring on the side of caution, I book Marlowe a hotel suite for three nights, so she has time to rest, call her bank, and book her return flight before heading back to Rhode Island.
While I wave off the bellhop and roll her suitcase toward the elevator, noting my security guys waiting by the front entrance, and the small huddle of paparazzi outside, I know this is where I should kiss her cheeks, bid her good night, and disappear.
“Thank you, Ale,” she says sweetly as she steps into the elevator.
And fuck me, because I can’t walk away. Not until I know she’s good. That she’s not going to cry herself to sleep over Gerard or have some huge issue sorting out her declined credit cards.
Liar.
I’m just not ready to let her go. I liked being Ale, unrecognizable to a beautiful, intriguing woman. I liked it more than I should.
“Wow,” she breathes as she steps into the suite. “You didn’t have to do this.”
