15. Eve
15
EVE
I stand on the balcony and listen to the roar of his private aircraft as he departs for an unknown destination, on a mission he refuses to tell me anything about.
I miss him already.
The lines between lust and hate have never been more blurred. There is no black and white with us, only these contradictory shades of gray.
Will there be other women for him on this trip? A faceless, meek alternative to our passionate fucking that comes with a million caveats?
The idea plants a seed of doubt in my mind that keeps me tossing and turning for most of the night. Eventually dawn breaks, but I have no phone, no laptop, no way of hearing from him. I’m still locked inside a gilded cage, but now I’m pining for my jailor, not for my freedom.
I shower, dress, and head downstairs. Sofía was conspicuously absent from the house for most of yesterday, and I’m desperate to talk to her about Valentina.
I find her in the kitchen preparing lunch. It smells like some kind of casserole. I stand in the doorway and watch her for a moment, unsure of how to announce my presence. Her head is bowed in concentration, but I can tell she’s been crying. Her eyes are red-rimmed, and her sweet round face is paler than normal, but she still manages to raise a smile when she glances up and spots me.
“Breakfast, se?orita?”
“Toast would be lovely,” I say, returning her warmth. “And please, call me Eve.”
She busies herself with my request, removing the butter from the fridge and arranging a selection of spreads on the island in front of me. They all have American labels, and they’re all my favorites—strawberry preserve, creamy peanut butter…
“Were these bought for me?” I ask her.
“Se?or Dante requested them four days ago, along with your new clothes and toiletries.”
Why would he do that? He’s catching me off guard again. He’s content to give me his body and his gifts and precious little else, but right now, I’ll take what I can get, especially the protection team watching my family, twenty-four seven.
“Sofía?”
She looks up and her smile freezes. She knows exactly what I’m going to ask her. “Valentina did a bad thing,” she says gravely. “You don’t need to worry about her anymore.”
“Did Dante— ”
“She got what she deserved. I see that now. Se?or Dante is a hard man, but his heart is good.” Her face unexpectedly softens again. “He is only trying to protect you.”
A good heart? Is she serious? In my world men with ‘good hearts’ don’t torture women.
“I didn’t know… I never should have said…” I trail off helplessly.
“This is not your fault, se?orita, and I’ll hear no more about it.”
I watch her plate up two pieces of piping-hot toast, and then slice up an apple to serve alongside. There’s something endearing and old-fashioned about her manner. She’s so pretty, too.
“Sofía, have you and Dante ever…?”
Sofía bursts out laughing, her lovely face creasing up in disbelief. “Oh, sweet Lord. How could you even think such a thing?”
“Does he bring many women to this place?”
“No,” she says, suppressing a smile. “You’re the first.”
That’s something, I suppose. Or maybe I’m just his first foray into kidnapping.
“Have you worked here a long time?”
“Four years,” she declares proudly.
“And it doesn’t bother you that he’s a—”
“Does it bother you ?” she retorts, her eyes flashing at me. An uncomfortable silence follows. “I’m sorry, se?orita, that was bad manners. Please accept my apologies.”
“No need. I had no right to ask you that question.” I watch her rearrange the apple slices on the plate for a second time. “ Where are you from?”
“Cartagena.”
“In Colombia?”
She nods, and I watch her wipe down the kitchen surface and then repeat the same action, three times over. My presence has her on edge.
An unpleasant thought surfaces in my mind.
“Did you know Dante before you came to work here?”
“Enjoy your breakfast, se?orita,” she says, cutting me off again and handing me my plate.
I smile at her ruefully. I can be more than a little tenacious at times.
Twisting open the lid to the peanut butter, I start spreading thick, oozing layers to each slice of toast. It smells so comforting. It’s a lazy Sunday morning spent lounging about my apartment…
Overcome with homesickness, I drop the knife with a clatter.
“You’ll see America again soon enough, se?orita,” says Sofía gently, handing me a clean one.
I don’t want to talk about home. It’s too painful.
“Do you blame me for getting Valentina into trouble?”
“No, se?orita.” She reaches out and squeezes my hand. “Valentina knew what she was doing. She made a bad decision. Se?or Dante treats us well. Loyalty is important to him.”
Her smile is so genuine that for a moment I could almost believe he isn’t the devil incarnate.
“Can I ask you a favor?” I say hesitantly.
“Of course.”
“Can you teach me how to speak Spanish?”
“If Se?or Dante will allow it.”
My heart sinks. “Do you have to ask his permission?”
“Yes, in all things. It’s just the way it has to be.”
“But—”
“I serve lunch at midday.”
The message is crystal clear: No more questions.
I grit my teeth and stare down at my plate. “Can I go eat this outside?”
She nods and smiles again. “Se?or Dante has granted you access to every area of his compound, except for sector six, of course.”
“You mean the warehouses?” I say, taking a bite of an apple slice.
“Yes, se?orita.”
“I’ll steer clear, I promise.”
“You don’t have a choice. There are over two hundred guards patrolling that site.” Her voice drops to a conspirative whisper. “No one enters that place without his permission.”
I choose to eat my breakfast on the beach. There are armed men stationed equidistant all around me, but they’re starting to blend in with the scenery. It’s like I’m becoming immune to their lethal presence.
Closing my eyes, I lick my fingers clean of the peanut butter. If I could shut out my thoughts, I could almost be back on South Beach.
Almost.
Kicking off my sandals, I dig my toes into the warm sand and watch a white hermit crab scuttle past, half-hidden in his shell. I wish I had a disguise like that. I can’t do anything on this damn compound without Dante’s consent.
I chase the edge of the tide all the way up to the rock pools at the far point. From here, I can finally get a sense of the scale of this place. It’s much bigger than I thought. There are miles and miles of stunning coastline stretching far out into the distance, and no hope of an escape.
On my way back to the house, I take a detour past sector six. I can’t help myself. When I’m denied entry to a place, I have a natural compulsion to go and check it out.
Is this where Dante’s soldiers live?
Is this where they train to be killers for men like the Santiagos?
The barracks consist of eight large structures, as far as I can tell. I learn this by counting the corrugated roofs rising up from behind a six-foot security fence topped with barbed wire. The men in the security towers nod brusquely at me, and they never take their hands off their guns for a second. The whole area has an eerie, regimented vibe that’s incongruous with the sweeping elegance of his mansion.
Following the track past the barracks, I keep on walking until I find myself at the opposite end of the pony field I discovered yesterday.
The same gray lifts his head as I approach. I hold out the last of my apple slices, and he moves leisurely in my direction before burying his velvet nose in my hand and chomping nosily as I run my hand down his neck and ruffle his mane.
“Hey there, beautiful,” I croon, admiring the dapple markings on his hindquarters. He’s tall, at least sixteen hands, and his ears are constantly flicking back and forth as he nuzzles my side for more apple.
He’s so inquisitive. He hasn’t developed that bored tolerance for humans that I’ve seen in other horses.
“You like him?”
I turn in surprise. The young guard from yesterday is standing right behind me, along with two other men. He slings his gun over his shoulder and makes to come over, but his companions look horrified. They grab his arm and start speaking in quick-fire Spanish, but they’re shrugged off easily enough.
The gray nudges me again as the guard approaches. I smile up at the horse and give him another pat.
“We had many like this where we grew up.” He bats the gray lightly on the nose. “This one is such a príncipe … ‘prince’ I think you say.”
“Like his master,” I mutter.
He laughs, and I can’t help thinking how attractive he is. He’s shorter and leaner than Dante, but his eyes are much lighter and less burdened. “Se?or Dante is no prince. He is more like a king. Some say he’s the true King of Colombia.”
They do?
Right away the other men start firing Spanish at him again, and he snaps back with a retort. In the end, they throw their hands up in the air and walk off, muttering darkly to one another.
“What was all that about?” I ask him.
He grins at me sheepishly. “They don’t think I should be making conversation with Se?or Dante’s lady.”
“You can tell them I’m not Se?or Dante’s anything ,” I say tersely. “And I do have a mind of my own, you know. ”
“Ay-yai-yai! I did not mean to insult you!” He throws his hand up in defense.
“You didn’t.” I sigh and tuck a stray wisp of hair behind my ear. “It’s a touchy subject.” I like this man. He has an openness and honesty about him, which makes me wonder how the hell he ended up in Dante’s army. “It’s Manuel, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Nice to meet you, Manuel. Are you from Colombia too?”
He nods. “Like most of us here.”
I’m getting that strange feeling again, but I slide it to the back of my mind. Meanwhile, the gray has given up on the lack of apple and attention and has wandered off to join the other horse.
“What does Dante call him?”
“Tramposa.”
“Is that Spanish? What does it mean?”
“Trickster, cheater.”
“Does Dante name all his horses after his character flaws?”
He shrugs his shoulders. “I respect my jefe too much to answer that.”
“Manuel!”
A sharp voice behind us causes Tramposa and the other horse to throw their heads up. The smile drops from the guard’s face, and he leaps away from me with a curse. A giant is striding up the road toward us with the same unflinching, alpha swagger as Dante’s. He’s the guy from the other night, and I blush when I remember how much I’d kicked off in his arms.
“Get back to warehouse seven,” he barks at Manuel. “Inspection is at sixteen hundred hours.”
“Yes, se?or. ”
“You’re American,” I blurt out, causing both men to turn in my direction. How did I not notice this before?
“Genius deduction,” drawls the giant, making my cheeks redden. “Was it the accent that gave me away?”
His cold gray-blue eyes are appraising me, giving me nothing. That poker face is so achingly familiar, too. It’s the same one Dante wears whenever he’s mad about something.
“Dante’s been delayed. He’ll be back tomorrow.”
“Oh, right.”
The man runs his hand across his jaw. I get the feeling he wants to say something else, but something’s stopping him.
“Is he okay?” I venture cautiously.
“He won’t be if you keep on flirting with his recruits. Neither will they, for that matter.”
Manuel flinches. “Please, Se?or Grayson…”
The poor guy looks terrified.
“I’d keep your mouth shut about this if I were you. Get out of here, Manuel. Go.”
He’s gone without so much as a backward glance at me.
“I’d hardly call that flirting,” I say tightly, angered by this man’s censorious behavior. I’m not usually this rude, but he’s being an asshole.
“I’m just offering you a piece of advice, Miss Miller.”
“Well, you know what you can do with your advice, don’t you?”
A ghost of a smile starts to favor his mouth.
“And what the hell is so funny?” I demand angrily.
He sighs and runs his hand across his jawline again. “For a moment there, I could kinda see what all the fuss is about.”