The Spanish Love Deception by Elena Armas (novels for students .TXT) 📕

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.”

I frowned, wanting to be upset but agreeing with him. He didn’t need to know I was on his side.

“Stubborn woman,” he muttered under his breath.

I stopped chewing, making an attempt to stand up and stomp out of that office. He stopped me with oddly gentle hands on my shoulders.

“Do not test me right now.” That damn scowl was back with a vengeance.

I gave up under the soft vise of his large palms and let my body fall back.

“Eat the bar, Catalina. It’s not nearly enough, but it’ll do for now.”

Feeling the ghost of his hands on the skin covering my shoulders, I shivered. “I’m eating. No need to boss me around.” I averted my eyes and resumed chewing, trying not to think of how much I wanted those palms back on my skin. Or those long and big arms around me. I needed the comfort. My body felt stretched too long, my skin chilled, my muscles overworked.

“Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

I nodded, not looking up. I simply limited myself to chowing down the snack.

Only a few moments later, Aaron was back. All determined strides and stiff back. “Water,” he announced, dropping a bottle on my lap. He placed my phone beside me too.

“Thanks.” I unscrewed the lid, chugging down a quarter of the bottle.

When I was done, I looked up again. Aaron was standing in front of me now. Still looking all angry and bunched up. I let my gaze fall off his face, feeling extra tiny, sitting there while he towered over me.

“So, I guess this will be your office soon. I hope they let you redecorate.” I eyed the horrible painting behind him.

“Catalina.” The way he said my name held a warning.

Ugh. I was not down for a lecture.

“That was so stupid. Not eating, risking hypoglycemia when the whole building is deserted. What if you had lost consciousness and no one was around to find you?”

“You were here, weren’t you?” I answered, still not looking at him. “You are always here anyway.”

A noise came out of his throat. Another warning. Don’t give me that shit, it told me.

“Why are you not eating?” His question felt like a punch, right in my stomach. “You always, always used to have something in your hand. Jesus, you used to pull pastries out of your pockets at the oddest and most inappropriate times.”

That had me looking up, meeting ice-cold eyes. I had; I was a snacker. That was part of the problem, wasn’t it?

“Why are you not doing that now? Why haven’t you done that for the last month? Why are you not eating like you usually do?”

Narrowing my eyes at him, I clasped my hands together. “Are you calling me a—”

“Don’t,” he hissed. “Don’t even try it.”

“Fine.”

“Tell me,” he insisted, his gaze hardening like stone. “Why are you not eating?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” My breathing quickened, every word costing me more and more effort to spit. To admit the truth. “Because I want to lose weight, all right? For the wedding.”

He reared back. Appalled. “Why?”

Most of the blood that had left my head earlier rushed back. Awful timing. Just like everything else about my life. “Because,” I breathed out. “Because that’s what people do before an important event like that. Because I want to look my best, as much as you won’t believe it. Because I’d like to look as amazing as I possibly can. Because, apparently, I have been going around, stuffing my face with pastries twenty-four/seven, and my body has definitely been storing it. Because I just … did it, okay? What