GEMMA’S ICE-BLUE GAZE LOCKED ONTO his for a breathless moment. André thought she’d look away, changing her mind against the fear of rejection. But she didn’t. She kept studying his face, with this half-terrified, half-desperate mist in her eyes.

His stomach twisted at the sight of whatever pain roared inside of her. He didn’t want to hurt her. Would give anything to prevent it. But something told him to keep still, let her face the fear in the place she loved.

“Reyna told me you lost your family when you were little,” he coaxed softly. A lump grew in his throat and he cleared it away. “That’s…something I can understand.”

Gemma’s jawline tightened, and the adorable dimple he loved appeared.

Nothing could bring family back, a fact André still fought with every night before he slept. Clearly, Gemma had struggled for a long time with losing hers. She still struggled now.

No doubt that’s what Rock Pierce alluded to all through the appalling dinner conversation.

“How did they die?” he asked.

“It doesn’t matter. They’re gone,” she bit out.

“How else can we get to know each other? It matters, Gemma. Tell me.”

She turned and studied him. Is this what she meant by him knowing? The blue of her eyes deepened and his reflection disappeared. “How did your family die, Miguel?”

The familiar ache gripped his gut instantly. He didn’t come out here to talk about himself. But he didn’t want to lie to her either. How else could she get to know him? As much as he was permitted to reveal, anyway. “They were killed…shot.” Their memory was so fresh in his mind, he had to look away.

“Cartels?”

André gaped back at her. How did she know?

Gemma shrugged. “Very common for Mexicans and Colombians who migrate here.”

Mierda. I tell her the truth and it still gets twisted around.

He grabbed his tie and twirled it around his palm. This wasn’t what he wanted to talk about. Suddenly, getting to know each other didn’t seem like a good idea. He had to change the subject.

“I take it Rock Pierce knows what happened with your family. With a judgmental memory as well. Que pendejo.”

Gemma sat up and rubbed her shoulder. Her hair draped over her eyes, but André could still see she bit the inside of her cheek. Her smooth chin looked delectable enough to suckle on.

“Rock came to my house that night to tell me my mother had died.”

Another fish jumped in the pond and Gemma’s face lifted, revealing the mist building in her ammephire eyes again.

“Rock is bad news to me, always bringing up the past. Never lets me forget…” She balled her fist around a rock and shoved it deeper into the dirt. Grinding the problem away was a common tactic André had used to vent anger as well.

“How old were you?” he asked quietly.

“Ten.”

A warm breeze rustled the pecan grove, kicking the crickets up a notch. The horses snorted and lay in the grass, embracing the oncoming night.

“Reyna was watching me that night. My mom got a call to go bail my dad out of jail, again.”

André almost winced at the resentment dripping on her words.

“He’d spent that day, along with her last paycheck, wrecking havoc at an underground poker game. Accused of cheating, fists flying, etc. Mom left, still in her nurse scrubs, cursing at Dad on the phone. Four hours later, Rock knocked on the door and told us she’d been killed by a drunk driver.”

André swore under his breath, flinging the tie across the quilt, and then interlaced his fingers with hers. With a resolute stare at the stone, Gemma kept her voice even. But André heard the strain.

“Dad couldn’t handle her death, so the bottle became his new best friend. For the next four years, I pulled him out of more bars and pool halls than I could count. I remember driving his truck down the highway at twelve years old, with him passed out on the front seat. Puke all over the floorboards.” She cleared her throat and paused, letting her face soak in the sunset. The muted rays glimmered in the outline of her hair with a dim glow. Breathtaking and painful. “I kinda hoped I’d get pulled over by the cops.” She sniffled. André moved closer, wrapping an arm around her waist. But he didn’t see any tears. “That way I wouldn’t have to keep putting up with his bullshit.”

As difficult and tumultuous as André’s relationship had been with his father, it had never been that destructive. Reduced to parenting your parents at so young an age. Gemma was so much stronger than him. Getting to know her like this—vulnerable and real without walls—was better than he anticipated. Even therapeutic, though whether more for Gemma or himself he couldn’t say.

“What happened to him?” He tossed a pebble at a cricket resting on a piece of driftwood along the bank, making it jump away.

“He was a compulsive gambler on a downward spiral. What do you think happened?”

“Doubled down, and lost everything,” André answered soberly.

“Yep.” Anger shaded her voice and she picked up another pebble, tossing it into the pond with a clunk. “The apartment, the truck, everything down to the first pair of boots Mom bought me.”

“That’s why you hate cards. And gambling.”

Gemma ducked her head and glanced over at him, her lips narrowing and eyes misting. With the squeeze of his hand, she nodded.

André gazed back across the water and ground his teeth.

I’m such an ass. Living in casinos for the last eight years, drowning in the high of betting, all the while she’d lived in hell because of them. Am I no better than her father?

“When did Reyna come into the picture?” he asked crisply.

Gemma sighed and wiped at her eyes. “She stepped in when my dad made the genius decision to use me as collateral when he borrowed from a loan shark.”

“What?” André sat up, his jaw rigid.

“He couldn’t pay the debt, so they grabbed me walking home from school.”

“Dios mio, Gemma. You were kidnapped?”

She shrugged, and André tried to keep calm, mirroring her steady and impassive behavior, as strange as it felt. Images of her tied to a chair, duct tape over her mouth with tears streaming down her angelic face made him shake. What father would ever bargain their child? Let alone precious Gemma?

“How long did they have you?”

“Three days.”

A cold sweat washed over his whole body. Three days in the hands of those who would steal a child. He didn’t want to let his mind imagine the things she suffered. But this is what he had to know. To truly know her, he had to know it all.

“What did they do?” he forced himself to ask.

“Taught me to play poker.”

“Que?”

“They scared my dad into believing they’d hurt me. But I spent the whole time in this guy’s house learning how to play poker.”

André’s brows furrowed and rubbed his chin. “Why?”

“That’s all they did: played cards and waited for my dad to show up with the money. I wanted to learn what he was so in love with, why he spent so much time away. So, they taught me.”

She’d explained the reason so casually, as if being kidnapped and held against her will was merely learning a new sport on how to exploit an opponent’s weakness.

“I caught on pretty quick for a fourteen-year-old.”

“Mierda,” he breathed. “You should have been going to school, dances, playing the piano…riding horses. But—”

“He did teach me to ride a horse.”

“Your father?”

“The few times he was sober, he’d drive my mom and I out to Reyna’s ranch and rode horses with me. Taught me how to brush and saddle them. It’s when I first fell in love with this place.”

He squeezed her hand again, loving the way her face softened when she spoke of the ranch, of the horses. The same way he used to feel about his home, and the horses he rode with his mother.

A knot formed in his chest, and he looked away as he rubbed his sternum.

“So, what happened with the sharks?”

She pursed her lips. “Reyna paid the loan. They let me go.”

“Dios ama Reyna.”

“Yeah,” Gemma murmured, “God love Reyna. She never let Dad take care of me again.”

“I would think so. Did the police get involved?”

“No. Didn’t matter though, because he died a few months later. Alcohol poisoning. Ironic.”

“Gemma, I’m so sorry.”

“I wasn’t.” She threw the stone, launching it into the far side of the pond. “I finally took control over my own life. No one could mess it up for me anymore.”

By now, more stars had come out, and they reflected off the water’s surface. The sun had sunk below the horizon, leaving only a glimmer of blues and purples streaking across the sky.

“Then I rebelled. A lot.” Her jaw stiffened, and though her face was turned towards him, she refused to look him in the eye. “School psychologists said it was normal for orphaned kids, but there was nothing normal about me anymore. I missed a lot of high school and…earned a certain reputation. Things I can never take back. Made life miserable for Reyna at church. But she never gave up on me.”

André squeezed her hand, gentle and reassuring. Something to let her know he was still there. But he kept silent.

“For that, I owe Reyna the biggest apology and debt I can never repay,” she mumbled with a hard edge in her voice.

“Gemma,” he whispered. With the lightest touch on her jaw, he turned her face to his and lowered his lips. One sweet kiss. No demands, no urgings. Just Gemma. The salty taste of her tears made him pull back.

The light blue in her eyes had brightened to a deep aqua from the tear-covered shine. A shade he’d only seen once before, in the sunsets off the waters of Solana. The most precious and rare color he’d ever seen.

“Gemma, mi diamante,” he cooed. “You should be sorry for nothing.”

She shook her head and lowered her face.

“Whatever you did, it doesn’t matter. Not to me. I see you.”

A tear rolled down her cheek, fat and trembling. Big enough for him to see his reflection.

“You’re tough, dependable, smart—with the most incredible heart. The love you show Reyna and Rico, and to your horses…it’s unmatched.”

Another tear followed in the same trail down her cheek, but she didn’t take her gaze away from him. He was lucky for that. He was lucky for her.

“I’ve known Stefano all my life, the one man I trust most, and have never seen anyone earn his respect so quickly. You’ve had us both wrapped around your finger ever since we stepped onto this ranch.”

Sniffles filled the space between them, and André couldn’t bear her tears. She was the kind of woman who didn’t cry for anything, always strong and soldiering on. Though maybe she needed this. Maybe she needed to hear the words.

“I see you, Gemma. You’re strong and proud. And God help me, you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Since that first day I saw you in those gym shorts and boots.”

Gemma laughed and wiped her cheek.

“Your eyes,” André whispered, wiping another tear from her chin. “You remind me of home.”

His heart cracked when he finally admitted it. He’d loved his home more than anything, and staring into her eyes he saw Solana all over again. The love, the passion, and every ounce of pride a prince should possess. The pride he’d lost.

His stomach flipped. Could he find that pride within himself with her at his side?

“So now that you see me,” Gemma murmured, blinking away the remaining tears. “What about you?”

André leaned back, watching her carefully. Could he really tell her everything? Would she like what she saw? Not the crown or the money, but him. What he had become, what he’d spent the last eight years doing. Would she find him worthy?

No, a distant thought answered. You haven’t earned her respect.

“Who are you, Miguel?”

Such a simple question, and yet more loaded than any of the guns Stefano had brought with them. André had no idea how to answer it. Only that it was the most important question if Gemma would ever trust him.

“I was no one for many years. Wandering. Lost, really.” The words plucked at his pride as he said them, but they were real. “When I came here, I started to remember who I was. What I had hoped to be.”

Gemma’s eyebrows squished together and she kept watching him.

“I’m rambling.” He shook his head. “But my life hasn’t amounted to much. I’m a disappointment and a shame to my father. To my family. And now that they’re gone, I can’t…”

André looked away and pressed his fist to his mouth. This was so much harder than he ever thought it would be. Admitting he was ashamed. Admitting he wasn’t worth it. To the one person left he wanted to be worthy of.

“You feel like you can’t apologize to them,” she finished for him. “Make up for mistakes you’ve made. So you carry them around in your pocket to remind yourself of how unworthy you feel.”

The knot in his throat wouldn’t let him speak, so he nodded, grateful his head was turned.

“Where the last words you said to them still haunt you every night?”

André wiped his eyes and faced her. Every day.

“Well, I’m just about finished with bad dreams,” Gemma declared, taking his hand in hers. “Along with punishing myself for those mistakes. I think you should be finished with regrets and would’ve-beens. Do something, find something that makes you proud. That makes you wake up every morning and go to sleep at night with a clear head. So, every time you look at that photo, you know you’ve made them proud.”

“That’s what you have here?”

Gemma opened her mouth, but paused. Her stare dropped to his lips and then back to his eyes. “Yes.”

Her slightly parted mouth, so soft and pink, made his groin ache. Images flashed through his mind of the delicious things she could do with those lips on him.

“What do you want?” she breathed.

Something told his mind to stop thinking. That question, her intent gaze, the desire poured out of her like a summer rain.

What do I want? I want a purpose. I want to be proud of myself. I want to be loved for me. And the one person who I believe can give that to me is a breath away, if only she knew who I was.

“I want you, Gemma.”