“Maybe you screwed fate.” My voice was a whisper as I stared at the white summer dress on the couch. I didn’t look at him, but I didn’t have to, to know that my words struck a nerve. The heat of his stare burned my cheek. “There is no such thing as fate,” he snapped. “And even if there were, the last thing anyone would ever do is pair you with Oscar Perez.” “The Fates would pair me with you? You’re no saint.” “Do you want a saint, Elena?” No, I want you. But I don’t want the heartache you’ll bring along.
