Page 132 of Mexico Can Choke On It
The sound of the glass hitting the tile below shatters the peaceful silence.
My fingers claw through my hair, tugging with enough force to sting. Then I scream. Loud and broken. A sound I didn’t know I was capable of making. Years of buried rage breaking loose.
Wetness flows down my cheeks. I haven’t shed tears since I was old enough to understand they were weakness. But tonight, my body rebels, against a lifetime of emotional imprisonment. Against the crushing weight of a destiny I never wanted.
Why did I let myself believe for one second that I could choose a different path?How could I be so delusional?
KNOCK! KNOCK!
Fuck. Petra’s here.
I scrub at my face, eyes swollen and raw. I run a hand through the mess on my head, trying to tame it. I cross the room and square my shoulders.I’ll tell her I’m sick. I’ll send her away. I can’t let her see me like this.
The door swings open to reveal Petra clutching a silver ice bucket, her robe cinched tight around her waist, mischief in her smile.
“You ready for your torture, Money—” Her smile drops. “What’s wrong?”
“Stomach issues.”
“Bullshit.” Her eyes narrow, studying my expression. “I know you. Something’s wrong.”
Sheknowsme?
No one knows me—not the real me. I’ve built walls smooth enough to reflect, tall enough to defend—yet she walked right through them like they weren’t even there.
How?
Without waiting for permission, she pushes past me into the suite, setting down the ice. The door clicks shut as she reaches for my hand.
It’s shaking.
She doesn’t flinch. She just laces our fingers together and pulls me toward the bed.
“Sit, B,” she says with gentle authority. “Tell me what’s wrong. How I can help?”
Everything in me wants to confess—my future’s been sold, my company’s being used as leverage, and I agreed to marry someone else tonight in order to protect my best friend.
But admitting the truth means revealing how powerless I am.
“Let me get lost in you,” I whisper, hating myself for the selfish plea. “Please.”
Her answer comes without hesitation—a single nod that destroys me.
Silently, she surrenders, parting her robe to reveal delicate black lace that steals my breath. I squeeze her hips and pull her close as wesink back onto the mattress. My mouth and hands explore her, and the suite fills with the symphony of her soft moans.
I drown in her. In her taste. Her sounds. Her body.
In everything I want and can never have.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
PETRA
I’minhisbed.
Wrapped in his arms. Living the fantasy I swore I gave up on.
His breathing is steady beneath my cheek—peaceful, tender—a sharp contrast to the emotional wreckage he showed me last night. Bryce Sterling, always so dignified and distant, let me in. And what I saw, no one else ever has. He fell apart, and then he kissed me like I was the only thing that could save him.
