“Is everything okay?”
I swallow and pretend like I’m not blatantly checking him out, even though a little part of me still feels entitled to.
“Is black the only color in your wardrobe?”
He shrugs. “I just try to blend in.”
My defenses come down a little with his honesty. “You could never blend in, Tristan.”
“I do a pretty good job of it, actually.”
A small smile curves my lips. “I’d find you in a crowd anywhere.”
“Or on a busy street, as it were.”
Thank God I found you…
As if he can hear my unspoken words, he averts his gaze. In the corner, a round, mahogany table is set for two. Several candles burn in the center. It feels oddly intimate—between the rich colors of the room, the musk of leather furniture, and the candlelight.
“Hungry?”
“Starving is more like it,” I say.
Karina walks in with two steaming plates right on cue.
“Then let’s eat,” he says.
CHAPTER SEVEN
TRISTAN
Mateus arrives on Karina’s heels and places two glasses of wine beside our plates. “Saúde,” he says with a wink.
Isabel smirks as he leaves. “Why do I get the feeling he wants us to get along?”
“He likes to meddle. I had no idea how much until I brought you here.”
“How long have you been friends?”
I tense at the warmth she attaches to the term. It’s both foreign and uncomfortable, much like the way she makes me feel.
“Almost as long as I can remember,” I finally say between bites.
Isabel is quiet for a moment. “So not long, then.”
“We met a few years ago. Right after I came to Brazil. Things were different then.”
“How?”
I internally berate myself for opening the door to her question. But the more we share with one another, the less I seem to worry about the vulnerability the truth creates. Our days may be numbered. If she doesn’t die by my hand, Jay’s people will get to her. What does it matter what she knows?
“I was figuring out my life here. I accepted his friendship before I realized how inconvenient they could be.”
“Friends?”
“Friends. Lovers. Essentially anyone who knows my name becomes a liability.”
I laugh to myself at the sudden irony that, until a few hours ago, I didn’t even know my own surname. I was reborn as Tristan Red the second my boots hit the ground in Rio for the first time. I have official documents with a dozen aliases, but Red is how most of the people in my world know me.
My given name is like my past. Good to know but largely irrelevant. I can never be Tristan Stone again. Isabel has to finally believe this now.
“I go by Tristan Red, by the way. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t introduce me to random strangers though.”
Her cheeks redden. “Sorry.”
I point to her full plate. “I thought you were starving.”
She exhales a deep breath and nods. We spend the next few minutes devouring Karina’s masterpiece. I shouldn’t feel so unguarded, but between the heavy meal and the atmosphere, I’m feeling at ease. Relaxed, even.
As we finish, she gestures to the couch and offers a hopeful smile. “Do you want to sit?”
“Sure.”
Together, we move to the other side of the den where Mateus scolded me only a night ago. I refill our wineglasses, unable to stop from dwelling on the photos he showed me.
Meanwhile Isabel sits in an adjacent chair. I cross the room as she tucks her legs under her. In her flowy white dress, she’s nothing short of a miracle. An impossibility.
She sips her wine and holds it on her tongue before swallowing.
“Do you like it?”
She smiles. “I do.”
I sit on the couch and try not to feel like the silence is a physical thing, creeping in, beckoning me to break it and ask Isabel all the questions I should be.
“So,” she says, “what should we talk about?”
Her voice is tentative, and I don’t blame her after this afternoon. I should rip the Band-Aid off. Get this over with so we can both move on.
“You said my mother worked in Baltimore. If your dad works at the Pentagon, we were nowhere close. How did we meet?”
Her eyes light up. “I was your tutor.”
I blink. “Excuse me?”
“I took a bus twice a week to tutor English and Spanish at an inner-city high school in Baltimore. I was trying to rack up community-service hours for my college résumé. That, and I was looking for any excuse to get out of Alexandria.”
I can’t hold back a laugh. “You were my tutor?”
“You were failing English before you met me,” she says. “By the end of the year, you were on the honor roll.”
“I suppose you think you had something to do with it.”
She bites her lip with a smile. “I motivated you.”
I try not to get hung up on all the ways she could have inspired my good grades. I’m guessing the eighteen-year-old version of me would have crawled across hot coals for an hour under her tutelage.
Because Isabel is more than a beautiful woman. She’s fierce and kind, and I’m certain those are only a few of the layers of the person before me. She can’t seem to say much without hitting a nerve, but I’m beginning to appreciate the reward. The truth. Even her dangerous affection for me is something I’ve found myself looking forward to experiencing during our brief time together.
“So your parents must have loved that. Falling for a boy on the wrong side of the tracks.”
She traces her fingertip around the rim of her glass. “At some point, I decided to just do what I wanted. Even if it was a little scary. Even if it made my parents furious. It is my life, after all.”
“It was puppy love, Isabel. Hardly worth upsetting your parents.”
She narrows her eyes. “It was more than puppy love. A lot more. And it was worth it. Even though it nearly broke me.”
I clench my jaw. We’re edging into territory I’m not used to. Feelings. Heartache. Love.
“We were young,” I say.
I’m not sure if I should end this now. Every exploration into my past seems to trip over the inconvenient truth that Isabel and I were once in love.
Before I can come up with a better diversion, Isabel rises from her chair and walks to me. I stare up at her as she stands before me. I can’t decide if she’s more angel or goddess at this moment.
“We still are young, you know.”
Her knee nudges mine. Playfully, suggestively. I’m drawn to her so completely, I can’t stop myself. I feather the tops of my fingers over her soft skin. The contact reverberates through me, dares me to do more, feel more.
Before I can, she leans in and sits astride me, sucking the air out of the room as our bodies meet. Her hands on my chest, her warmth covering me… I’ve never known this kind of temptation.
“Isabel…” I consider pushing her off but stiffen my hands into fists on either side of my thighs instead. If I keep touching her, I’ll never stop.
“It wasn’t that complicated, Tristan.” Her voice is soothing, echoing through me like an old song. She looks into my eyes like she knows me. Really knows me. In ways I don’t even know myself. “Boy meets girl. Boy falls for girl. Girl decides she’ll break all the rules to be with the boy.” Sadness hits her eyes. “Boy breaks girl’s heart. Girl never recovers.”
“Girl was probably better off,” I whisper.
“Probably. Doesn’t change the fact that I’ll never be able to love another man the way I loved you. Doesn’t change the way you destroyed me, Tristan. Or that I’d do anything to feel it all again. Anything.”
Her lips are a fraction away from mine. I attempt a sobering breath but get her essence instead. Then her lips, her taste, as our torsos and mouths melt together.
I inhale as her tongue flickers over mine. God, it’s all too fucking good to resist. And her scent… Something about it hits my senses in a new way. It’s familiar. Cocoa and vanilla and something else. Something I can’t quite reach with my thoughts until a field of deceivingly innocent red flowers projects onto the bright-white screen of my mind.
Poppies. As far as the eye can see.