When Lies Unfold

Chapter 18

“So, this is my new prison,”I mutter under my breath as I set my boots down at the foot of the bed. “Super.”

The room isn’t bad. In fact, it’s gorgeous, with teak floors and far larger than my entire casita.

The adjoining bathroom is a dream. With an enormous shower on one side, it also has an oversized bathtub overlooking the dense jungle. I begrudge how much I yearn to try it out.

I shouldn’t want to indulge in anything this murderer provides me. Not one iota.

Spinning around, I march back into the bedroom, where Luis waits.

“Your belongin’s are on their way here.” He pauses. “And boss said to get you an ice pack.”

I stop short. “A what?”

“An ice pack.” At my frown, he speaks slowly, like he thinks I’m an idiot. “Boss said you hurt yourself in his office.”

I blink in confusion. He must be referring to my hip, but why the hell would Santiago care? Before I can ponder this more, my stomach grumbles and my hands fly to cover it.

Luis’s focus drops to my bare midsection, a slight crease forming between his brows. “I’ll have the cook send you somethin’ to eat.”

“Actually,” I hedge, “can you show me where the kitchen is? I have some…food sensitivities, so it’s easier for me to pinpoint what I can actually have.”

He visibly hesitates, squinting at me as if attempting to scan my brain for any suspicious intent. After a moment, his mouth flattens and he jerks his head toward the door, silently indicating for me to follow.

He leads me on a maze-like journey to a kitchen that’s like something out of a magazine. Luis glances at his watch. “Cook’s on break right now.”

I venture toward the enormous refrigerator. “That’s not a problem. I can whip something up really quick.”

When I pull open one heavy door, I’m faced with an abundance of options. My mouth drops open when my eyes land on jars of ghee and tallow as well as packaged meat and chicken from the nearby free-range, grass-fed farm. As I scan over the other shelves’ contents, my excitement grows by the second.

I start filling my arms with the necessary ingredients before casting a glance over my shoulder. The same imposing man—Luis—waits with his arms crossed impatiently.

“I tend to be unable to cook for only one person, so there’s always extra. Are you hungry?”

When he squints at me with a healthy dose of wariness, I roll my eyes and withdraw the remaining items. “Never mind,” I mutter.

If I’m going to be stuck here, I might as well make sure I’m fed to my standards.