Alejandro’s look completely captivated me and put me at ease. He warmed me with a spectacularly intense smile, twinkling gray eyes, and a pounding heart. No wait, that was my heart doing all the pounding. I was definitely having trouble staying focused.
Since this would be the last time I saw Alejandro, I let myself get lost in his eyes once more. The deal could wait—he obviously didn’t seem too anxious. We gazed for a few minutes.
Suddenly, my guilt overcame me, and I felt awful about the whole deal. I wanted to scream out the truth, admit my lies, refuse his money, and tell him about my childhood as a con artist. I didn’t care about the money. I wanted him. I wanted to sweep that fake guitar off the desk and kiss him right there.
But those thoughts made my con fears get worse, and the threat of being busted by my mother held me in place. I had to finish this deal. It would be the easiest path forward—the money was sitting right there. Besides, whatever emotional entanglements Alejandro and I had built were destined to go nowhere, so I might as well take that pile of cash.
I sighed, and he broke away from our stare. Then he slid the attaché case across his desk toward me. “Four hundred thousand dollars.” I pulled the case closer and opened it up.
The sight took my breath away. It was filled to the top with neat piles of fifty-dollar bills. That meant I was looking at 8,000 bills. From my experience with cash, it looked about right. I nodded my head and smiled, our gazes once again locked.
His smile managed to kick my con fears away, even if only for a moment. It made me happy, and all I could think about was his mouth on mine, his arms holding me tight, his hot body pressed close. Those incredible gray eyes seemed to be looking deep into me, to the core of my being. It was as if he saw things that nobody else had ever seen.
Stop! What was wrong with me? I should be checking his money, not standing there, thinking about his kiss. Why couldn’t I concentrate on this deal?
I knew the answer, and it was only partly about this man. My con-game fears were scaring me, pushing me to avoid the deal. Anything could happen at this point, and my brain kept churning through the possibilities. I tried to stop the images bubbling up from the past, but they fought with each other to play in my head. I saw a mark get scared and run away when he looked at his own money and realized how much of it he was about to spend. I saw a deal that ended with police lights flashing behind me as I ran down the street and into an alley. I saw my brother, dead on the ground with blood running from his forehead. Please—my mind screamed—don’t make me con anymore.