Chapter 13 #2
His expression shifts — confused at first, then something that looks almost like disgust flashes in his gaze.
For a moment, I think he’ll realize what I already know, that my father is demented and evil for stealing a young girl’s keepsake, but Rio quickly pulls any feeling back behind that wall he keeps everything behind.
“Is this supposed to mean something?” he asks.
I want to shout at him. Call him dense. Shake him.
But I don’t because the only thing I need from this man is action.
“Rio,” I keep my voice as level as I can, though irritation bleeds through anyway, “this necklace belonged to Isabel.”
His expression doesn’t change.
“She was wearing it when I met her.” The words taste like acid. “And then she disappeared.”
Those days flood back. I never could have known that such innocent moments were setting something sinister into motion.
I lift the chain slightly between us.
“I found this in my dad’s bedside drawer. In a jewelry box.”
His gaze flicks to the locket, still guarded, still unreadable, and frustration spikes again.
“Not just this,” I press on, my voice tightening despite myself. “There was more. Cheap stuff. Young girl jewelry.”
The memory hits harder the longer I stand here. That box. The way everything just sat there like it meant nothing. A cold chill seeps into my bones, the same one I felt standing in his room.
“Trophies, Rio,” I nearly whisper it.
I open the locket, my fingers not quite as steady as I want them to be, and hold it out toward him.
“Look. She told me these are her grandparents. I know you don’t believe me. I know you think maybe this is all part of some grand plan so contact these people. Believe them, not me. Find them and ask if they or anyone has spoken to their granddaughter since she left for America.”
He leans in slightly to have a better look in the low light of his luxurious home.
“You can run this, can’t you?” I push. “Image match? Whatever it is you do. Her whole family couldn’t be in on my supposed takeover…”
“They could…” he grumbles.
“You’re right, they could,” I meet his eyes. “But I swear I’m not lying. I risked a lot for this, Rio.”
He lifts his manly hand, and his fingers pinch the delicate chain of Isabel’s necklace. He takes the locket into his palm and considers the photo. Without glancing up, he says, “If you stay here at Monarch Hills while I work on it, and I’ll work on it.”
His piercing gaze meets mine again. “If you don’t have any grand plans running in the background, it shouldn’t be a problem to stay at the ranch.”
My breath stills inside me. I glance around at his living room. High-end Italian leather couches, hotel lux lighting, elegantly framed artwork tastefully adorns the walls. Everything screams money, power and the balance of it all is about control. Rio is a calculated man, not to be underestimated.
But what’s my alternative?
A cheap motel room with a lock that could break in seconds if Luther or my dad found me? Not just a ring, but a man forced on me whether I say yes or not? That’s a cage far less attractive than the one here at Monarch Hills.
The air in here suddenly feels too thin.
This place isn’t safe.
Rio isn’t safe.
And yet somehow, when I search his eyes for reasons to say no, it’s not fear I feel inside. I don’t know what the hell it is but… I don’t feel scared around him even though I should.
Like it or not, I need him. Leaving the women behind isn’t an option.
“I’ll stay…”
“I’ll be monitoring your cell…” he says.
“The fuck?”
He raises a brow. “I’m not going to take it away or control you, but if you have nothing to hide, that shouldn’t be a problem. I don’t give a shit about UberEats but if you contact Luther or anyone at Black Ridge or Iron Covenant…”
“I won’t…” I blurt out, hating the eager tone in my voice. “Just… don’t turn on location services.” I made sure to disable that before I even left my house. “Find them, Rio. Then you and I will never have to see each other again.”
He tilts his head, thoughts swirling inside that mysterious mind of his. What is he thinking? I can’t read him, which is why I can’t leave anything to chance between us.
We need to set some ground rules.
“But in the meantime, we’ll be seeing a lot of each other,” I add. The reality of him being my fake boyfriend settles in. “Let’s just… stay away from your family.”
“Fine by me,” he says, but there’s something almost amused in the way he exhales. “Doubt they’ll make that easy.”
I think of his father. The warmth. The noise. The way they pulled me in without question. His family’s apparent kindness is dangerous in a completely different way.
“We’ll need some rules,” he continues.
Exactly what I was thinking.
“Rules sound good.”
“We hold hands,” he says. “We need to touch or they’ll get suspicious. So we hold hands at a minimum.”
At a minimum? Where is this going? My stomach drops out just thinking about it. I nearly broke a sweat holding his hand at the gate. Why does my enemy need to be so gorgeous?
“We have to put on a show,” he adds.
“Obviously,” I mutter, even though my eyes flick down to his hand and wonder how they’d feel on me in other places, too.
Strong. Rough and manly.
I’m sure his hands don’t hesitate.
I shake myself inside. “I’m not kissing or anything though,” my words rush out, betraying my nerves.
The corner of his mouth tilts. “Didn’t ask to kiss.”
He steps closer, his chestnut eyes darkening.
“But we’ll need to be convincing. So if I touch you…” His gaze drops to my mouth, my throat—then back to my eyes. “…you can’t flinch.”
I hold his stare. “I won’t.”
In a test, he lifts his hand toward mine. My heart gallops, heat comes to a boil under my skin as his fingers close around my wrist. His thumb presses once against my pulse. He holds it there, as if my pulse is a lie detector.
He smiles, rubs my skin with his thumb. “Good girl.”
His approval settles low in my body, hot and heavy, like I’ve been rewarded for something I didn’t realize I was offering.
“Don’t say that again.” I snatch back my wrist and massage it, hoping I can get rid of the sensual feeling he left there. “I can handle myself,” I add. It sounds way too defensive.
He smirks. “I know you can.”
For a second, neither of us moves; we just stare at each other.
Tina lets out a small huff between us, then her nails tap on the shiny hardwood floors. She wanders to a nearby coffee table and before I can stop her, lifts her leg and pees.
“Shit…” I rush to grab her, I don’t know why, though, because it’s too late. There’s a tiny puddle on his floor. “Sorry,” I say, expecting this to tip him over the edge.
Rio lets out a huff, one that’s almost a laugh. “No worries.” And then, in our very first ever small talk, he asks, “Is she old or…”
“Yeah. Nearly fifteen.”
Rio steps back first, dragging a hand over the back of his neck like he’s resetting himself. He looks down at the puddle. “I’ll make sure there’s extra paper towels around.”
He moves through the open plan space toward the kitchen.
“Thanks.” I hug Tina, feeling like a bad fur mama, and follow him.
“I’ll set you up in one of the guest rooms.” He bends down and takes an antibacterial spray out of the cupboard.
“Okay.”
He walks back out toward the mess with supplies in his hands, looking oddly domestic. Then, to my surprise, rather than handing me the things to clean up after Tina, he bends down, sprays and cleans it up himself.
And when he stands to face me, something about that ordinary moment makes him look… different. Attractive on more than just the outside.
With that stupid paper towel in his hand, being kind to my old girl, he’s less like the man who just backed me into a corner, and more like someone I could almost forget to be careful around.
I really am messed up. Rio just disarmed me by wiping up dog pee.
“Let’s grab your car from the road,” he offers.
I tighten my hold on Tina, her small body warm against mine, grounding in a way I need.
This house. This man. This deal.
None of it is safe.
And yet— I didn’t leave.