Redeemed (Dirty Air Series Book 4)

“They’re coming!” I call out to Santiago as I adjust the wine glasses for a third time.

“Relax.” Santiago’s arms wrap around me. His warm breath heats up my neck and tickles my ear.

Whoa. This is the first time he’s initiated touching me without an audience, and I am not exactly opposed to it. Honestly, I want more of it. I’m tempted to cling onto him like a baby koala and make myself at home.

He presses his thumb to my pulse point. “You’re going to have a heart attack if you keep this up.”

No, sir, I’m going to have a heart attack if you keep this up. I let out a shaky breath. “Time to get this show on the road.”

“Quick lightning round of questions. What’s my favorite movie?” Santiago steps away from me.

Cool air replaces his warm embrace, and I sense the loss immediately. “The Shining because you’re clinically certifiable.”

He laughs. “Name something I’m talented at.”

“You have a talent?”

His eyes darken as they land on my mouth. “You can think of one thing, I’m sure.”

Umm, okay. Excuse me while I choke on my own saliva. “Such a naughty mind.”

“Naughty insinuates the things I want to do to you are wrong. I can promise you they’ll feel very good.” His wink has my lower half giving a standing ovation.

I try to think of something to say besides staring at him like I want to give his dick a ride, but he interrupts me again. “How many World Championships have I won?”

“Two.”

He smirks. “And am I a morning or night person?”

“Night because the sunshine kills your pissy attitude.”

“You should try standup comedy. I feel like you’re missing out on a viable career option here.”

“Noted.”

He nods. “It seems like you’re about as ready as possible for tonight, but…” His voice drops off.

“But?”

“But we have to prepare better for a trip with my family.”

“Why?”

He reaches out and runs his knuckles down my cheek, sending a current of energy down my spine like a shooting star. “Because you’re supposedly my girlfriend, yet still act surprised when I touch you.”

“That’s because I am.”

“Well, it needs to be amended.”

“Joy,” I squeak out.

His smile goes from sweet to seductive. Dear Lord, someone please ask him to put away his pearly whites. They make me blind to the dangerous man standing in front of me.

His lips brush against my temple, making my skin tingle.

The ringing doorbell pulls our attention away from each other. Santiago motions for me to open the door. I grab the handle and pull, finding Matteo and my brother on the other side, grinning.

My new sibling looks a few years younger than me, rocking a mop of dark hair and light brown eyes.

“Merda. Santiago Alatorre!” My brother’s brown eyes widen as his mouth drops open.

Merda is right. Matteo introduces his son as Giovanni. My brother looks similar to me, with the same faint splatter of freckles across his nose and pale skin.

I can’t think of anything to say besides a welcoming hello. Matteo and Giovanni ignore my lack of words, focusing all their attention on the giant next to me. Giovanni drops a bunch of mumbled fucks as he hits Santiago with a few questions. Santiago’s jaw ticks with each one. I appreciate him forcing a smile despite how much he hates this. It can’t be easy to answer questions from a fan after years of hiding from the world. A tiny surge of guilt hits me for putting him in this situation in the first place and making him vulnerable. If we were the real deal, I’d offer him a blowjob for this round of torture.

Santiago ushers us into the main dining room, keeping his hand pressed against my lower back. I shiver at the possessiveness of his touch. Addiction must run in my family because I’m hooked on his touch, craving our connection to keep me grounded.

Except this is all fake, Chloe. 

Giovanni and Matteo sit beside each other at the table. Santiago pulls my chair out to help me sit. I take a seat and Santiago pushes me in before sitting beside me. He goes above and beyond with his display, even offering to serve me my food.

Ugh. He cooks, he puts up with me, and he acts like a gentleman. If I hadn’t met his mother, I would have thought he came from outer space.

Everyone else takes turns dishing themselves, and the bright smiles around the room tell me Santiago’s cooking is a hit. I preen at everyone eating my salad.

“This food is amazing.” Giovanni closes his eyes as he stuffs another piece of chicken in his mouth.

“I’ve never had anything like it.” Matteo stabs a piece of lettuce.

Santiago grins at me. I blush and look away, focusing back on my family.

“I watched some of your cooking videos with your sister. YouTube doesn’t do your food justice.” Giovanni smiles in a boyish way. He’s absolutely starstruck and I find it somewhat endearing.

“Right. I almost forgot those were out there.” Santiago’s gaze drops to his plate.

“You forgot? They have millions of views! How can you not remember something like that?”

Santiago clears his throat, a light blush creeping into his cheeks. “Things like that are easy to forget.”

“Why haven’t you done one in a while?” My brother, who lacks appropriate people skills, carries on.

“I don’t want to be filmed anymore. I’d rather stay away from any kind of attention like that.” Santiago’s fists clench under the table.

“I don’t like the attention either.” I clutch onto his fist closest to me and force his fingers apart. They intertwine with mine, and he holds them to his thigh. The intimate gesture feels so right that it scares me.

“Obviously Santiago’s been hiding you from the world. I’ve never seen you before,” Giovanni says.

“Just how I like it.” Santiago’s hand tightens around mine, cutting off all circulation. Ouch.

Giovanni’s gaze moves from me to Santiago. “Do you think you’ll ever go back?”

“Gio…Smettila.” Matteo frowns at his son.

This night is going terribly wrong, and I don’t know how to stop it. Santiago cuts off any hope of blood circulation to my hand.

I clear my throat. “Giovanni, Matteo told me you’re finishing up your degree at a university in Milan. How do you like it?”

My brother stares at me with a raised brow. “It’s fun and I have lots of friends.”

“That’s great. I always saw happy students when I passed by NYU on my way to work. What’s it like?” My head bobs enthusiastically.

Santiago tilts his head at me, his eyes scanning my face. The weight of his attention is the equivalent of having hot coals run over my skin.

“You didn’t get a degree?” Matteo frowns at me.

I shake my head. “No. I had other priorities sadly. But I accepted that some people aren’t meant for college.”

“My uncle said the same thing.” Giovanni laughs.

“And look how he ended up.” Matteo’s eyes narrow at his son.

Okay, I’m guessing Matteo’s brother is a sore subject. I try not to pay much attention to the contempt in Matteo’s voice about not attending college, but it’s easier said than done. The icky feeling takes over, making me feel lesser than because I don’t have an expensive degree.

Those kinds of opportunities aren’t for people like me. They’re for those with money or people who can afford lost time and countless loans.

It’s like a thundercloud rolled in over my head, darkening my mood.

As if sensing the shift, Santiago releases my hand. I attempt to pull it back but he traps it against his thigh. His index finger drags across my knuckles, sweeping over the goosebumps spreading across my skin.

I don’t know what to concentrate on anymore—his touch or the bomb of a conversation with my family. I decide on the latter and gesture to my knife with my left hand.

Santiago huffs and releases my hand from his sensual torture. He smiles at the show I make of stretching my fingers. “Giovanni, what are you studying?”

“Engineering.” Matteo answers for him as he sits taller in his seat, preening like a proud peacock about his son.

“Oh, that’s awesome. What kind?” I pluck my glass of wine from the table and take a sip.

“Mechanical. I’m interested in working in the racing industry.” Giovanni’s gaze moves from me to Santiago again.

Oh, boy. Here we go again. His tampered down infatuation was fun while it lasted. Someone needs to teach my brother the art of not coming on too strong. I don’t want to imagine him picking up women in a bar.

The conversation turns toward racing and cars again. Giovanni steers clear of asking Santiago anything too personal, focusing more on his car collection and other hobbies he enjoys like boating.

Matteo and Giovanni seem to forget I sit beside their favorite racer. Santiago attempts over and over to include me, answering in a way that should bring their attention back to me. Nothing works.

I hate the look of concern Santiago sends my way. It’s one I’ve spent my entire life seeing on everyone else’s faces. He might as well call me out on being the poor foster kid who found her family, only to realize they’re not interested in me at all. Trust me, I see it. I don’t need Santiago’s awareness adding to my embarrassment. It’s obvious Matteo didn’t come here for me. He came to collect his “Dad of the Year” award after he introduced Giovanni to the next best thing since the invention of the iPhone.

Unease sits heavy in my gut, growing larger by the minute. Everything about this is fake—from my relationship with Santiago to Matteo coming here to spend time with me. It’s a sad fact to realize the most genuine thing here tonight is Giovanni’s infatuation. The uncomfortable thoughts batter against me.

My eyes sting, and I stand in a rush. “I’m going to go grab us a bottle of wine!”

Matteo’s eyes land on the full bottle of white wine in the middle of the table. I come up with some half-ass excuse about a different kind I prefer after dinner. My neck heats as I turn on my heel and bolt to the kitchen.

Ragged breaths escape my lungs. I open a cabinet door that hides the wine cellar, properly dubbed by me as the bat cave. My sneakers echo off the stone walls as I take the stairs two at a time.

I press my back against one of the glass refrigerator doors and slide down, hugging my knees to my chest. It takes everything in me to not release frustrated tears.

Nothing about tonight is going my way. Every choice I’ve made up until this point with Matteo has gone terribly wrong, making my life a mess. And for what? A father who already has a family and doesn’t even know I exist?

I’m a joke. A fraud. Nothing better than my mother, lying to get my way. The realization brings about the tears I fought against before. I swipe them away, hating the evidence of my distress.

“You have two choices. You can go out there and show them what they’re missing out on, or you can hide in here and I’ll tell them to go.” Santiago’s low voice bounces off the walls. A pair of sneakers stop in front of me, his body casting a shadow over me.

My heart lodges itself somewhere in my throat. “Holy shit! How are you so damn quiet all the time?” I press my hand against my chest as I tip my head back.

“Practice.” His smirk drops into a scowl as his eyes flick over my tear-stained face.

He lets out a breath as he gracefully squats.

My heart warms at the idea of him pushing himself to his limit to meet me where I’m at. I lean my head forward, avoiding his gaze. “Tonight sucks.”

He tucks a thick, calloused finger under my chin, forcing me to face him. “Ehh. They suck. There’s only one person at that table making everything bearable.” He smiles in a way that makes me want to shake him.

Screw a penny for his thoughts. I’d offer my firstborn child if it means gaining access to a piece of his mind.

“I made a mistake, didn’t I?”

He shakes his head. “No, you didn’t. And I can’t exactly blame them either because fame makes people stupid. They think the way to make me happy is asking me questions about myself, but they couldn’t be any more wrong.”

“Why?” The words leave my mouth in a whisper.

“Because obviously the way to any man’s heart is through his girlfriend.”

“Fake girlfriend.” I mumble half-heartedly. Fake girlfriends shouldn’t feel how I do about him, but here I am, lusting after a damn hermit.

He shakes his head, fighting a smile. “How do you feel about playing a game?”

“A game?” My jaw drops open.

“Yes. A game.” He nods, his grin growing. “Whoever makes up the most ridiculous story about our relationship wins whatever they want.”

I laugh. It’s loud and unrestrained, echoing off the walls. “Why would we do that?”

“Because I’d rather see you smile than cry.”

I suck in a sharp breath. His sweet words sink in, repairing the damage from tonight. It scares me to rely on someone like him. But at the same time, I can’t ignore the security he offers.

“What do I get if I win?” My smile widens.

“The real question you need to ask is what do I get when I win?” His smile turns mischievous, liquifying my insides.

Oh. Shit. 

I’m willing to lose if it means I get another smile like that. I might as well wave my flag of surrender now because Santiago looks like the type to not take any prisoners.