The-Spanish-Love-Deception-www.indianpdf

The one I had heard directed at me more than once, always muttered or
whispered, or just like she had done, loud and clear. Se va a quedar para
vestir santos. Which literally translated to something about dressing saints
and meant that I’d stay single and dedicate my life to God for the rest of my
life.
Feeling completely defenseless, standing all alone with my cousin, I
couldn’t decide if sleepy Aaron was a blessing or a curse anymore.
Yesterday, when he had been with me, facing Charo, my sister, Daniel, and
everybody else, it had been unexpectedly easier than doing that now.
I realized now that as much as I had brought him to Spain with that
particular purpose, I had never truly expected that it would work. Or that
we’d become a team. That he’d instill strength in me—even if I’d use it to lie
to my family—or that he’d make me feel like I wasn’t alone in this.
And the scariest, most terrifying part was that all that was starting to
bleed through the lines that defined our deal. In a little over a day.
The proof was last night. We had almost kissed. We had done more than
just that. More than practicing or pretending.
Crazy. It was crazy, but it was also true. I was honest enough to admit
that to myself.
But that didn’t mean I was brave enough to acknowledge it out loud. I
was still the coward who had walk-of-shamed her way out of that room like
her ass was on fire before I was forced to have a conversation.
And I’d do that again.
Aaron would soon become my boss, and that would change everything.
Having him here—in Spain, in my home country, attending my sister’s
wedding as my fake date—was already dangerous. It was reason enough for
me to shake in my boots at the prospect of someone at work finding out. It
didn’t have anything to do with a weird company policy or with me having a
pet peeve. I had already been involved with someone where a supervisory
relationship between us had existed, where I had not been the one in the
position of authority. And where had that led me? To being the only one
having to deal with the dirty and poisonous tongues that hadn’t thought twice
before stigmatizing me and everything I had worked so hard for. Just for
what? For a few laughs? For pointing a few fingers? For bringing me down,
so they’d feel a little better?
History could repeat itself, and this time, I would be the one to blame. It
would be me who had tripped over the same stone for a second time. This