The Spanish Love Deception

Chapter 31

“Rosalyn Graham!” I called after her, willing my head not to turn and check on the pair of blue eyes I

was sure was drilling holes in my back.

Chapter Five

You knew the universe didn’t like you all that much when, after an exhausting week that had been

crowned with a catastrophic Friday, it started pouring down the minute you stepped out of the office.

“Me cago en la leche,” I cursed under my breath, looking out through the glass of InTech’s massive

entrance door and taking in the dark clouds crowding the sky, rain falling from it almost violently.

Pulling up my phone, I checked the Weather app and discovered that the summer storm would

probably hover over Manhattan for a couple more hours.

Perfect, just perfect.

It was already past eight in the evening, so staying in the office to wait out the rain wasn’t an option. I

needed my bed. No, what I really needed was a can of Pringles and a pint of Ben & Jerry’s. But that

wasn’t a rendezvous I would be having today. Instead, I’d probably trick my stomach with whatever

leftover veggies I had in the fridge.

A thunder rumbled somewhere nearby, returning me to the ugly present. Content © provided by NôvelDrama.Org.

The rainfall increased, now gusts of wind veering the falling water from one side to the other.

Still in the safety of InTech’s entrance hall, I extracted from my bag the light cardigan I wore in the chilly

building and covered my head with it in hopes that it would somehow act as a barrier between the rain

and me. Thankfully, the bag I had grabbed that morning, even if not the prettiest, was waterproof.

Looking down at my beautiful and brand-new suede loafers—which, contrary to my bag, were

gorgeous and unfortunately not resistant to water—I took in their pristine state one last time. “Farewell

three-hundred-dollar shoes,” I told them with a sigh.

And with that, I pushed the glass door and stepped out into the dark and wet evening as I held my

cardigan over my head.

It took me about five seconds under the rain to know that by the time I got to the C Line, I’d be

completely and absolutely drenched.

Fantastic, I thought as I speed-walked under the unforgiving downpour. I only have a forty-five-minute

commute to the part of Brooklyn I live in anyway. Time I’d spend soaked to my bones.

As I turned the corner of the building, another thunder roared somewhere above me, the rainfall

increasing and turning my pace slower and clumsier, while more water fell heavily on top of my useless

cardigan umbrella.

A gust of wind stuck half my hair to my cheek with a wet smack.

Trying to get the wet locks out of my face with my elbow, I kept hopping around, realizing quickly how

bad of an idea that was.

My right foot slipped on a puddle, sliding forward, as my other leg remained rooted to the sidewalk. My

hands, still holding the cardigan, whirled in the air as I fought to keep my balance.

Please, please, please, please, universe. My eyes closed, not wanting to bear witness to my own fate.

Please, universe, don’t let this horrible week end this way.

My foot drifted one more inch as I held my breath before coming to a miraculous stop.

I opened my eyes. My legs were close to doing a split, but I was still standing.

Before I could fully straighten and resume my way under the rain, I noticed a car pulling up a short

distance in front of me.

I knew someone who owned a vehicle in the same midnight blue.

Keep walking, Catalina, I told myself as I restarted my graceless hopping.

Out of the corner of my eye, I watched the passenger window roll down.

Without moving any closer to the vehicle I strongly suspected belonged to someone I was in no mood

to interact with, I turned my body and zeroed in on the driver’s outline as I still held the stupid and wet

piece of garment above me.

God-freaking-dammit.

Aaron was sitting inside. His body was leaning toward the copilot’s door, and while I could see his lips

moving, I couldn’t make out what he was saying with the noise of the traffic, the wind, and the rain

hitting the pavement with the characteristic force of a storm.

“What?” I shouted in his direction, not moving an inch.

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