The Spanish Love Deception novel Chapter 72

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Okay, I’ll stay. And I burrowed into the chest, ready to lose myself to the exhaustion rocking my body.

“Eyes open, please.”

Somehow, I complied. I let them fall on a shoulder that looked terribly familiar as we moved. And gradually, my vision eventually cleared. My head, no longer whirling, locked back on my shoulders. The sweat on my skin cooled down.

My eyes roamed around as recollection of what had happened spilled down my mind. I fainted, for not eating enough. Like a total dumbass. Sighing, I looked up, my gaze zeroing in on a chin that stretched into a jaw that was topped by lips that were pressed tightly.

“Aaron,” I whispered.

Blue eyes met mine for an instant. “Hold on. Almost there.”

I was in Aaron’s arms. His left arm around my legs, hand spreading on my thigh. His right one around my back, his long fingers splayed across my hip. Before I could delve into that or on the comforting and amazing warmth emanating off him and into my skin, he was putting me down.

Confused, I looked around me. My gaze stumbled upon that horrible, disturbing framed piece of art of a kid with huge eyes. I had always hated it, and I knew exactly where it belonged. We could only be in Jeff’s office. He was the only person I knew personally who didn’t find that frightening.

My ass settled on a plush surface, and my back followed, resting on something that felt a lot like a pillow. I placed my hands on my sides, noticing the fabric beneath my fingers. Leather. A sofa. Jeff had one in his office. It was one of those leather settees that looked all pretentious and classy.

Aaron’s palm brushed my face again, and my attention returned to him. He was close, really close. Kneeling on the floor in front of me. His touch was comforting, but his expression didn’t match the soothing quality of his fingers against my skin.

“Do you want to lean back?” he asked, an edge on his voice.

“No, I’m okay.” I willed my voice to convey the strength I wasn’t feeling. His eyebrows draw into a scowl. “You look so mad.” It was an observation that should have been kept as a thought probably, but I guessed that, given the circumstances, I wasn’t in the disposition to be picky with what left my mouth. “Why are you mad?”

“When was the last time you ate, Catalina?” His scowl deepened, and he shifted on his knees, straightening his back. I watched him pull something out of his pocket.

I grimaced. “Lunch? I think. Maybe more like brunch because I didn’t have time to get breakfast, so I just had something at around eleven.”

His hand froze midair in front of me, allowing me to see that something he was holding. It was wrapped in white wax paper. “Jesus, Catalina.” He shot me a look that would make anyone else cower. One that would definitely help with his soon-to-be new position.

But even if my tank was literally empty, I wasn’t anyone else.

“I’m fine, Mr. Robot.”

“No, you are not,” he shot back. Then, he very carefully placed on my lap what I already knew was a delicious Aaron Blackford homemade granola bar. “You fainted, Catalina. That’s really far from being fine. Eat this.”

“Thanks. But I’m okay now.” I looked down, my gaze getting acquainted with the gifted snack one more time. With shaky hands, I snatched it. Unwrapped it with clumsy fingers. “Do you always carry these on you?” I hesitated, my stomach complaining for some reason.

“Eat, please.”

So odd, how he could say please and make it sound like a threat.

“Jeez.” I took a bite. Then, I spoke with a mouthful—because who cared? He had literally just picked me off the floor, white-lipped, sweaty, and on my way to dramatically passing out—“I said I’m okay.”

“No,” he thundered. Pinning me down with a warning. “What you are is a dumbass.”