Chapter 26
POLANCO
About an hour prior to dinner, Dario from Vega’s staff delivered three neatly folded stacks of fresh clothes and high-end toiletries in leather kits.
Bryson distributed the delivery, his fingers lingering on the buttery soft cotton of a slate-black button-down.
All three men held the shirts against their chests, eyebrows raised at the perfect fit of every item.
“Adria,” the three of them said, in unison, after sharing a perplexed look.
Of course, she would get them clothes. Bryson ran his thumb over a designer label. He still wanted to talk to her, but she hadn’t come back to the room.
“Meeting Vega is going to be interesting,” Kaydon said, choosing a casual pair of jeans and a charcoal t-shirt that hugged his muscular frame.
“Do you think we will finally crack the mystery on why he wanted you so much?” Seth chimed in, throwing a white shirt over his head.
Bryson frowned. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to know. “Whatever the reason was, that ship has sailed,” he said, voice clipped, indicating he didn’t want to discuss it further.
Vega’s home was a sprawling estate. On the main level, Bryson found that the indoor and outdoor spaces merged seamlessly through archways of hand-painted tile as they weaved from their room to the main living area.
Wrought-iron chandeliers hung from exposed beams, while colorful textiles adorned the whitewashed walls.
Bryson’s attention settled on a stone fountain.
A half-man half-beast water feature that stood in the center of an interior courtyard filled with potted succulents.
He was thankful Dario had offered to escort them, as the many doors and hallways were all but guaranteed to turn the three of them around.
The main sitting space opened to a view of dense jungles through ornate windows framed by heavy wooden shutters, some reaching two stories high. Ceiling fans with woven palm blades rotated lazily above.
Adria and Eric sat together on a large leather sofa while Elena nursed a deep red cocktail in the far corner. Bryson, Kaydon, and Seth settled down opposite Adria, a coffee table of polished mesquite wood between them. Bryson watched as Adria fidgeted with her ring, avoiding his gaze.
She doesn’t trust you because you are a monster. Just like your father.
A monster
Bryson pressed his palms against his thighs, trying to silence Regan’s voice echoing in his skull.
After what had happened with Seth and Kaydon this afternoon, he couldn’t deny the truth any longer.
He wasn’t stable enough for this—for them.
His fingers curled into fists. He needed to speak with Adria, make her understand that Seth and Kaydon belonged with her now, not with whatever broken thing he was becoming.
“Welcome, guests,” a baritone voice said.
A tall man with silver-streaked hair entered from the back of the room, his tailored linen suit flowing as he moved.
Vega.
He surveyed them all with practiced charm before focusing on Adria. Taking her hand, he bowed slightly. “Adria, I presume,” he said, brushing his lips against her knuckles.
Adria rose and dipped into a graceful curtsy.
“Vega, we want to thank you for your hospitality in taking us in. We will try to keep our stay brief.”
Vega’s eyes flashed in Bryson’s direction before saying, “No, please stay. I enjoy the company.”
“Thank you, we appreciate it,” Adria said.
“Drinks!” Vega exclaimed. His eyes took on a slight manic glint as he snapped his fingers. Dario moved to the bar and took turns taking the group’s orders.
Vega sat near Adria, having a quiet conversation, and Elena sat on the armrest near Bryson. “You three were MIA for the afternoon,” she said.
Bryson glanced at Kaydon and Seth. “We needed some time to regroup.”
And Seth snorted into his glass. Elena rolled her eyes. “I’m sure that’s exactly what you three were doing.”
The evening flowed into easy conversation until a chime announced dinner.
If Bryson thought the sitting room was expansive, the dining room was even more luxurious. At Bryson’s home, his family, when he had one, rarely ate together. And even if they had, it would have been a table set for five.
Vega’s table could have easily sat twenty. Each of them found their chair, next to an ornate set of blue place settings. Adria, Eric, Vega, and Elena on one side, and Kaydon, Seth, and Bryson on the other. Elena’s two bodyguards must have been eating with the staff.
Bryson looked to his right and noticed an extra place setting.
“My daughter Daniela will be here momentarily,” Vega said.
And as if on cue, a dark-haired female entered at the head of the table. Bryson had to concentrate on not choking on his drink.
Daniela wore almost nothing. The white shirt covered half her torso, and the fabric struggled to hold in her large breasts.
The jean shorts, if you could call them that, were more like underwear.
Her dark hair went down to her waist, and she took in the room like a predator assessing their prey before zeroing in on Bryson.
Bryson felt himself swallowing hard as her curvy hips undulated back and forth, making her way to him.
She was young, most likely in her late twenties, like him. Beautiful in her own right, but Bryson didn’t feel attraction. Instead, he just felt uncomfortable sitting next to a half-naked heiress.
“Daniela, say hello to our guests,” Vega said.
Daniela turned her face to Bryson, her full lips coming dangerously close to his, and she gave him a crooked smile. “Daniela.”
She leaned in closer, and Bryson leaned back instinctively. “Don’t worry, I don’t bite,” she said, clacking her teeth together inches from his nose. “Hard.”
Bryson blinked. He had no idea what to make of her. Or her behavior.
Eric cleared his throat across the table, drawing the young girl’s attention, and Bryson was grateful for the distraction.
Daniela narrowed her gaze and said, “Who invited the GI Joe?”
“Daniela,” Vega snapped, “no seas maleducada.”
Don’t be rude.
Eric didn’t say anything, but Bryson noticed that his eyes didn’t leave the girl’s face.
“You can see why I wanted your help, Adria,” Vega said and Bryson found his interest piqued.
“So willful it’s been impossible to find her a husband. I was hoping with Bryson here, the two of them might hit it off.”
The icy contents of his drink splashed into Bryson’s face as he choked on his beverage. Vega continued, “I didn’t think it would be love at first sight, but she truly is not as much of a handful as she seems.”
Bryson doubted that very much.
“What do you think, Bryson?” Daniela said, turning her attention back to him. “Think you could handle me?” she said, pressing her bare toe into the inside of his leg.
Bryson jumped.
“With behavior like that, what would you do, Adria?” Vega asked, and Bryson noticed the murderous look that Adria was shooting Daniela from across the table. Bryson made a point to scoot his chair away from the girl.
“It’s obvious she just wants attention. Just don’t give it to her.”
It wasn’t Adria that answered Vega; it was Eric. His gravelly tone held its traditional southern drawl, but Bryson caught a hint of something else.
Eric held Vega’s gaze, and Daniela sat rod straight, as if he had struck her. She gripped the table, saying, “What would you know, old man?”
Eric turned his gaze to her, his eyes serious. “I know if I were your father, you wouldn’t be able to sit down tomorrow after coming to dinner dressed like that.”
Bryson’s mouth popped open, and he could feel Kaydon grinning next to him.
“That is what I am talking about,” Vega said. Clearly he was not feeling or seeing the same thing Bryson was.
Daniela’s ears turned pink, and her chair scraped against the tile as she pushed back violently from the table, her eyes never leaving Eric’s face.