By Dior Madrigal
“We don’t like each other, no need to spout bullsh*t. But we need something from each other. May upperhand ka sa sitwasyon natin, kaya nagpapakumbaba na ’ko. Pero hindi ko hahayaang tapak-tapakan mo ang pagkatao ko. Now, ano’ng sagot mo? Do I have your word? A truce?” sabi ni Bella.
Matagal bago sumagot si Enrique. “Deal. I apologize for the way I behaved the past days.”
“I accept your apology.” Inilahad niya ang isang kamay. “A truce. A clean slate.”
Something in his eyes flickered—something hot and raw. Dangerous.
“A truce.” His voice was a rough caress across her suddenly heated skin. At para siyang kinuryente nang abutin nito ang kanyang kamay. “A clean slate.”
But the dark heat in his eyes felt more like a warning.