Redeemed (Dirty Air Series Book 4)

“Iguess I better head out.” I intertwine my fingers and rock back on my heels.

With Marko asleep in his bed and all the dishes put away, it seems like the right time to go.

“Do you want to stay a little longer? I can open another bottle of wine?” Santiago rushes to get the words out, his voice hesitant yet hopeful.

Oh God. Is he nervous? I attempt to get a word out, but nothing passes my lips. Me, speechless. Brooke would laugh her ass off at the idea.

“No pressure. If you can’t because you have to go to work early tomorrow, then don’t worry about it,” he rambles on.

Screw him for crawling under my skin and making himself at home. I can’t resist nodding my head, agreeing to some one-on-one time with him. It’s as if he emits pheromones, trapping me with muscles, a sexy Spanish accent, and timid smiles.

Santiago leads us back into the living room before he leaves to grab a bottle of wine. My eyes land on the label when he enters the room again. It’s the same brand I fawned over during dinner, claiming I’ve never had anything that good since I usually purchase anything with a “buy one, get one free” label. The fact that he grabbed another of the same brand has me nearly falling over from swooning too hard.

Santiago takes a seat on the couch, saving a bit of space between us. I’m thankful for it because I’m seriously doubting my self-control around him tonight. He’s acting too sweet for my taste.

He passes me a full glass of wine. His hand brushes mine, sending a current of energy up my arm.

I rip my hand away. “What car do you plan on restoring?”

“A 1951 Jaguar C-Type.” He smiles to himself.

“Sounds…luxurious?” The only thing I know about cars is how the ones with the loudest muffler usually signal how there’s a man with a small dick nearby.

He laughs in a way that has my toes curling inside of my shoes. “Based on how it looks now, you wouldn’t say that.”

“Really? Why buy it then?”

“Because the fun is in fixing it up.”

“How long have you been doing this hobby?”

He looks away. “Since I could afford it.”

I try to hide my surprise. “And when was that?”

“When I made it with racing. Before that, it was a struggle for my family to make ends meet. All of this”—he waves around the room—“took hard work. My parents weren’t exactly financially set in life. At least not until I fixed them up with enough savings to live the rest of their lives comfortably.”

“Oh. Wow. I didn’t know that about you.” That small fact about himself has me looking at him in a new light. Maybe we have more in common than I initially thought.

“If you google me, it’s probably one of the first things that shows up.” He shakes his head. “Wait. Don’t google me. That’s never a good idea.”

Well, technically I didn’t google him.

His eyes narrow as he scans my face. “You did, didn’t you?”

I glance away, melting under his scrutiny. “Umm…not me. Brooke did though. But she didn’t tell me much.”

“What did she say?”

I look everywhere but the source of my embarrassment as if his eyes can detect my thoughts. “Just that you have a net-worth comparable to a small country.”

“That’s it? Okay, that’s not too bad.” He scrunches his nose in an adorable way. Good God, adorable? Chloe, please rein in your ovaries. They’re wreaking havoc on your brain.

“Mm-hmm.” I grip my wine glass and chug half of the contents in one go.

His head tilts, and a ghost of a smile crosses his lips. “I like how you can lie to everyone but me. It’s rather endearing.”

“What?” I sputter.

“I’ll give it to you. You’re impressive at lying. To my sister, my brother-in-law, your father. It’s something that caught my attention about you. But when I have you on my own, you give everything away. So, I’ll ask you one more time. What did your roommate say?” The authoritative tone in his voice has my lower half clenching.

“Brooke told me that you have a huge dick worthy of poems.”

Santiago’s head drops back as he lets out a roar of laughter. “Actually, I’ve changed my mind. Google me all you want. The naughtier the articles, the better, please.”

I lean over and give him a shove. My hand lingers on his forearm before I tug it away, chiding myself for being touchy. “Hey. I didn’t research you. Brooke did.”

“Brooke is my new favorite person. Maybe I’ll be the one to send her the thank-you basket, instead.”

My eyes flick from his face to his jeans, curiosity eating away at my politeness. “So, you’re not denying it then?”

“A man would be stupid to deny those kinds of claims. Especially if they’re true.”

Oh. My. God. I squirm in my seat. Now I have an idea of what he’s packing under those jeans and it has my mind reeling.

He pours himself a bit more wine before topping my glass off. “Now that you know a secret of mine, it’s your turn.”

“A secret? You’re the one boasting about having a steel pipe for a dick. That’s not a secret. That’s a fact.”

Santiago’s face turns red as he laughs harder than I’ve ever heard him before. “Tell me a secret anyway. I feel like I’m at a loss here.”

“Secrets take trust, and I don’t trust you.” My smile drops.

“What would it take you to trust me?”

I sigh. “That’s a loaded question since I don’t trust people easily. Skip.”

His brows furrow. “Why don’t you trust others?”

“Why don’t you trust others? You’re the one who lied to me about your identity for two weeks. That decision doesn’t scream trust,” I snap.

Santiago’s eyes widen.

Shit. I mentally sheath my claws. “Sorry, I—”

“It’s fine. I’ll admit that wasn’t my finest moment. As far as trusting others…I’ve met some of the nastiest people who feed off fame and failure. Seeing the worst in humanity has me understanding the value of people who I can trust.”

His answer is far-fetched compared to mine, with his life in the limelight, yet we have similarities I can’t deny. Ones that are fundamental, no matter one’s circumstance.

“I’ve seen the worst in people too. And they tend to have a way of disappointing me. Instead of getting my feelings hurt by trusting the wrong person, I’d rather not do it at all.”

“What about Brooke?”

“Exception to the rule.”

“So, you’re willing to break yours about trust then?” His eyes take me prisoner as a smile graces his lips.

“Maybe. Depends on the person.”

“That’s good enough for me. Plus, maybe you learn how being around bad people gives you the ability to appreciate the good ones.” His gaze lingers on my face in a way that makes me feel uncomfortable.

I don’t like the easygoing feeling spreading through my body from his words. Nope, nope, nope. I survived years of foster care because I didn’t fall for flowery words and empty promises. I’m the one who likes to be in control of how much I share about myself.

His eyes soften. “You might not trust me now, but you will eventually.”

“That’s quite the claim coming from you.”

“I’m not one to state things I don’t mean. If it takes you some more time to open up, that’s fine. I’m not exactly going anywhere.” He points to his iWalk. “Plus, we have a car to fix up together. You already offered your services.”

My heart warms at the notion. It’s the first time he’s openly addressed his injury without an ounce of contempt. His reaction has me smiling.

“Why do you even want my trust anyway? That’s not a requirement of fake dating.”

“Because some people in life are worth the extra effort.”

My breath catches at his words. I thought it would be fun to drag the hermit out of his shell, but it turns out he’s working his own magic on me.

He has me hoping that he proves me wrong. And that in itself is the most concerning thing about him.

“Chloe. I need you to come to my house right now and save me. My mom is on her way,” Santiago whispers into the phone.

That’s not exactly what I expect to hear come out of Santiago’s mouth the moment I answered his phone call.

“Huh?” I rub the sleep from my eyes after my afternoon nap. Work today completely wiped me out because Matteo finally asked me to help him with some rush orders after a swarm of tourists showed up at his shop.

“My mom is coming to my house right now and she’s asking for you.”

“What?” I rise from the bed. “You didn’t mention your mom visiting! And what do you mean ‘she’s asking for me’? This was not part of the plan.”

“Trust me, you’re not the only one who’s surprised. But she wants to meet my girlfriend.”

“Is that even normal for her to show up unannounced?” What kind of family does this man have?

“No,” he grumbles. “But I’m guessing Maya’s little story got her all kinds of excited. I’ll get to the bottom of that issue after.”

“Fuck.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

“This is getting out of control. I’m not ready to meet your mom. I barely know anything about you!”

“You know enough about me to survive meeting my mom. I swear I wouldn’t put you in this situation if I didn’t think you could fake it. Plus, she’s going to want to batter you with questions about yourself, not me.”

“Oh, God.” So much for Santiago giving me time to open up. This is a total nightmare.

“But I should warn you. My mom can smell a lie from a mile away. Hell, she knew about Noah and Maya liking each other before I did.”

I drop my head against the pillows and throw my arm over my eyes. “What do you want me to do? Everything about us is a lie!”

“Well, not everything.” His voice drops low.

Goosebumps rise across my skin, reminding me why hanging around him more than necessary is deadly. “How am I supposed to pretend in front of a human polygraph machine?”

“She’s going to be busy getting to know you, I doubt she’ll ask you much about me. I’m not the reason she came to visit. So, don’t worry. She’ll love you.”

“Easy for you to say,” I grumble under my breath.

He chuckles. “Come and fake it for a few hours until I say you have to go to bed early because you have to work tomorrow. It’ll be easy.”

“Fine. What’s a few hours of questions and your mom?”

This is the moment Morgan Freeman, the narrator of my life, interrupts me to say how this is a very bad idea.

Screw you, narrator. Screw you.