The Muscle Part Two by Michelle St. James

now, willing herself not to look down. It wasn’t that far. Not as far as the drop from that hotel to the pool where she’d met Luca. But there had been a pool then. Something to break her fall. And she had been in that space between life and apathy, when she wasn’t entirely concerned about what happened to her.
    So what was the difference now?
    She knew the answer almost immediately. It was Luca. Before she’d wanted to live for Sofia. She’d wanted to get Sofia away from Diego so she could have a normal life.
    Now she wanted to live for herself. She still wanted to take care of her little sister. But she also wanted to run and swim and paint and travel and laugh and make love to Luca long into the night.
    Which meant she needed to get to Luca’s room three balconies away.
    She started inching along the trim, forcing herself to look out over the water, not to look down at the expanse of green lawn that looked softer than it would feel if she hit it from the second story of the house. She watched the ocean, imagined swimming in it with Luca. How warm and gentle it would be against her skin. They would lay on their backs and float just like she did with Sofia in the pool. He would be with her, and she would be safe.
    She was so lost in the slow inching of her progress and the lovely dream that she almost jumped out of her skin when a hand closed around her arm.
    “It’s okay. It’s me.” She looked over into Luca’s blue eyes, as calm and steady as the water that had buoyed her in her daydream. He was leaning over the balcony railing of his bedroom, waiting for her. “I’ve got you.”

18
    L uca sat in the darkness in Isabel’s room, watching her sleep. He was nervous all night, even though she did a great job of hiding it from Sofia, going about business as usual by cooking dinner, helping Sofia with her homework, and reading to her before bed. By the time she was asleep, Isabel herself had started to come down from the manic energy of worrying about Diego, and shadows of exhaustion had shaded the delicate skin under her eyes. He’d helped her undress and put on a nightgown, then tucked her into bed. She’d reached for him, but he’d kissed her gently and told her to sleep.
    He was nervous, too.
    Most likely, Diego wouldn’t wake up until morning. Marco said he’d been three sheets to the wind. But Luca didn’t want to risk it, and he’d spent the hours since in the chair next to Isabel’s bed, just in case.
    They were close to Isabel’s freedom now. He could feel it. In the morning, Marco and Isabel would take Sofia to school like normal, and Isabel would spend the day discreetly packing a few things. When they picked Sofia up from school, they wouldn’t be returning to the Fuentes property. In fact, they would never return to the Fuentes property again.
    He felt a pang of anger when he realized she’d have to leave her paintings. It wasn’t fair. She’d worked so hard on them, and there was so much of her spirit on the generous, vivid canvases. So much of her struggle and fight. But with Eduardo skulking around the house, they would have to make it look like any other day they were picking Sofia up from school, even if Diego was gone.
    It meant leaving things behind, and Luca knew that no matter how urgent the leaving was, loss of the irreplaceable was something you never really got over.
    He was being honest with himself now, alone in the dark of night. Isabel had shown him how to do that. He thought he’d been strong before by putting everything behind, by not thinking about it or letting it touch him. But she’d shown him that real strength came when you were willing to feel your pain. When you were able to acknowledge it, even make peace with it.
    He’d been hiding a long time. Pretending he didn’t need anyone. That his past hadn’t affected him. Then he’d met Isabel, a woman he actually wanted to share his heart and soul with, and his past had made it impossible for him to really do