Carlos’ POV

I abandoned the whisky when I knew it wouldn’t make me feel better. It burned my throat but couldn’t dull the ache.

His face kept appearing in my head. His smile, deceitful and cunning. And when he had placed his hand on my shoulder, there had been nothing in his heart. It had been a liar’s touch.

“Fuck you, Anderson!”

I roared, pushing the bottle and wine glass off the table. They crashed, amber liquid pooling like blood

I needed a distraction. Something to drown ...