23. Eve
23
EVE
I have no idea how long I sleep for. When I wake, the clock face has been turned away, but I get the impression of minutes, not hours, from the scant clues around me. The strip lights are still glaring down from the ceiling, the closet door is still ajar—exactly how I left it—and the photograph of the little girl is still laying on the nightstand, as if I’d hoped that my dreams would somehow knit together the missing pieces for me. His knife is still tightly clasped in my fist.
I go to stretch and then freeze. There’s a strange prickling sensation on the back of my arms. It sets in flux a chain reaction that spreads unease throughout my body. My stomach muscles clench, my breath quickens, and my heart starts to thud to a painful beat.
I’m not alone.
His presence hits me immediately. It’s like our bodies are connected on some intrinsic level. I can sense his anger, his frustration, his turmoil…
With a soft cry, I wrench myself up into a seated position. He’s crouched down against the far wall, his dark eyes fixed on me. The black fatigues he’s wearing are stained and torn. The skin on his face is dirty and bruised, and there’s an ugly red weal lacerating one side of his forehead. Scratches and cuts cover most of his forearms. There’s a gun resting lightly in his lap.
“Hello, Eve,” he says grimly.
I’m too shocked to speak, but he waits patiently, cat-like, as if he has all the time in the world. His eyes are flickering over my face constantly.
“The compound,” I gasp out. “Your men…”
“Gone.”
The word is cold and brutal in its finality. He seems curiously unmoved by it, though. It’s like his focus has shifted to something far greater than the ruin of his empire.
“Is your brother…”
“Not yet. But he soon will be.”
He seems so calm, but I know his storm is always raging just below the surface. I glance at the gun in his lap. “What happened to you?”
He cocks his handsome, battered head to one side. “Do you really want to know that, my angel, or are you just stalling for time? Why don’t you ask the one question that you’re dying to. We both know the rest is bullshit.”
He’s right. I need to know the truth.
My fingers tighten around the knife. I fell asleep clutching it as if I was seeking out his protection, even when I was unconscious. I take a deep, unsteady breath.
“Did you murder my brother?”
There’s no flicker in his face to betray his shock at my asking this. There’s no downward turn of his mouth to suggest a hint of remorse, just more of that cold indifference.
“Yes.”
I let out a soft cry. My face crumples beneath an avalanche of grief. I drop the knife, pull my knees up to my chest and try to stem the torrent of tears with my fingers.
“You bastard,” I whisper. “How could you keep me prisoner knowing what you did. Haven’t my family suffered enough?”
He makes no move to contradict or comfort. He just sits there.
Watching.
Waiting.
It’s like he wants me to react badly and hurl angry words at him… To draw first blood. That way, he can come back at me with another of his contradictions, just to show me how powerful he is and how weak I am. I guess that’s what makes his next move so unexpected. He lifts his gun from his lap and slides it across the floor in my direction. It skids across the tiles and lands within touching distance of the bed.
“Take it,” he says harshly. “You get a free shot at me today, Eve Miller.”
I lurch forward to grab it, and then aim it at his head. “You sicken me, Dante Santiago .” I can scarcely see through my tears.
“I sicken myself sometimes.”
“How can you look at yourself in the mirror?” I’m shaking so badly; the gun is jerking all over the place. “How many people have you killed? How many lives have you shattered?”
“My life is not a tale of morality, but you knew that already.”
“I knew nothing!” I swipe my hand across my face and swing my legs out of bed. “Because you chose to deceive me. What gave you the right to bend my every rule, my every impulse in your favor?”
He laughs, but it’s a bitter, painful sound. “Do you really think the odds are in my favor, right now? My business is fucked, my brother betrayed me, and the woman I desire most in the world is pointing a goddamn gun at my head.”
“You deserve it. You deserve everything that’s coming for you. I hope you rot to death in some African cell.”
“Does that mean you’re not going to kill me?”
He almost sounds disappointed.
“Do you wish to die that badly?” I rise to my feet, the gun still trained at his head. “Is there any part of you that feels pain or regret, or are you just numb all over?”
“I’ve felt something these past two weeks. With you. I’ve felt more than I have in years.”
“Don’t say those things! You don’t have the right anymore!”
“Maybe so, but if today is the day I die, I do so with all my truths unveiled.”
“ Truths? You want to talk about the truth? Who’s the girl in the photograph, Dante?” I jerk my head at the nightstand. “Is she your daughter?”
His shoulders jerk as though an electric current just passed through his body. It’s the first visible reaction he’s given me since I woke up and found him sat there on the floor.
“Why do you care?” he says, recovering quickly. “Take your vengeance and do it now. Don’t forget to unclip the safety first.”
My eyes widen at his contempt. He’s trying to goad me. This man doesn’t just enjoy inflicting pain on others, he enjoys inflicting it on himself, too.
“Don’t think I won’t do it, Dante. You have no idea how long I’ve dreamed of this moment.”
“Five years isn’t it, my angel?”
“Stop calling me that!”
“Just fucking do it!” he roars suddenly.
Tears start trickling down my cheeks in rivulets of pain. The world tilts and distorts.
“I put a price on his head, Eve,” he says, taunting me again. “I never pulled the trigger, but I may as well have. He kept calling me, begging and pleading for his fucking life…”
“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!”
“I sent Grayson to finish him off, but by the time he landed in Miami he’d already OD-ed. Grayson couldn’t be bothered to waste the bullet.”
My grief is an unstoppable hurricane now. The room is spinning out of control.
“Jesus Christ, haven’t you heard enough?” He throws himself onto his knees in front of me. Before I can stop him, he’s grabbed the muzzle of the gun and is pressing it tightly against his forehead. “Pull the trigger,” he orders, gazing up at me. “This is your one shot. You will never get another chance after today.”
He looks so beautiful. So determined to die. His cuts and bruises are shocking this close-up.
We stay locked together like this for the longest time. Me, barely standing on shaking legs by the edge of the bed, and him, knelt before me. Connected only by a loaded gun and the ruin of his actions. Just staring at each other, neither one of us willing to break contact first.
I can’t stop thinking about Ryan and the last day I saw him alive. He was joking about some new ‘get rich quick’ scheme he was going to invest in. I had no reason to suspect narcotics, none of us did. We’d both grown up in the shadow of my father’s work. We knew all the cautionary stories, the tragedies, the statistics. Damn him for thinking he was any different.
I can’t stop thinking about my parents either, or how they’d shattered like priceless china on the day of his funeral.
I remember a panicked phone call not long before he died—a pleading for money that was refused. A decision I will regret for the rest of my life.
My finger flicks the safety off, and the noise splinters the silence. “Do you feel any remorse for the things you’ve done?” I croak, searching his face for one final bargaining chip. Something that will make this criminal’s life worth saving. Something that will make my finger loosen on this trigger.
There’s another pause. “Every day, Eve… Every damn day.”
The gun drops from my hand and hits the floor with a dull thud. “So help me God, Dante. You better pick that up and shoot me because I will find another way to destroy you for what you’ve done.”
There’s no triumph in his face, no relief, but his next words devastate me all the same. “No, you won’t, my angel. You can’t pull that trigger on me, any more than I can pull that trigger on you.”
With a gut-wrenching sob, I bolt for the en suite.
Slamming the door in his face, I smash the lock across and slide down the white tiles in a crumpled heap. I hate myself a thousand times over. I had the chance to exact revenge for my brother and my family, and I failed.
There’s a sharp rap on the door.
“Open up, Eve.”
He sounds stronger now, more like the old Dante. I’ve played into his hands like a dream. He knew I’d never kill him, no matter how hard he pushed, no matter how cruel his taunts were.
“Go to hell!” I scream.
“I’m already there. Believe me.”
“Leave me alone!”
“We need to talk about this. Stand back.”
“Don’t you dare…”
“Do it, Eve.”
The doorframe shudders and caves inward beneath his fists. I cover my head with my arms as I’m pelted with splintered wood and plaster fragments. Through the broken remains of the door, I see his silhouette, and then a large hand is reaching out for me.
“Don’t you fucking touch me,” I hiss, cringing against the tiles, but he grabs my arm and drags me to my feet, regardless.
Pulling me out of the bathroom, he throws me onto the bed and stands there looking down at me, a familiar fire raging in his eyes.
I can’t help laughing at this. “Don’t think that because I didn’t kill you, I still want to fuck you, Dante Santiago .”
“If I wanted to fuck you, Eve Miller , I’d do so, and, by God, you’d be screaming out my name.”
“So, you’re adding rapist to your long list of dubious accolades?” It’s my turn to goad him now.
“Would it really be rape? Despite everything, I know you still burn for my touch… Besides, you already think I’m the devil incarnate. One more sin isn’t going to change that.”
“You just said you regretted everything?” I whisper in horror.
“Not everything ,” he corrects with a grimace. “Don’t chip away at my armor, Eve. You might not like what’s underneath.”
“You lied to me!”
“Not lied exactly, I was creative with the truth. I do regret my part in your brother’s death, that I can assure you. I never want to be the cause of pain for you.”
Is he for real?
“You will always be the cause of pain for me, Dante! Let me go. There’s nothing left for us now.”
“Perhaps you’re right.” My head jerks up, his words sawing like a blunt knife at my heart. “My aircraft is on standby to take you back to America.”
“Are you serious?”
“I only ask that you take one of my men with you. I’m in the midst of hell, Eve. I can’t have any distractions, and the other side do not take prisoners. They need to believe you’re history. It’s the only way to keep you alive. I’ll have a security detail waiting for you when you land. They’ll be discreet.”
I’ve wished for this moment for weeks, but now that it’s here, I’m devastated. How has this play flipped so far in his favor? Is this more of his skillful manipulation?
“You’re letting me go?”
“Yes.” He grits his jaw like it’s painful for him to say it.
“Just like that?”
“The rules of the game have changed.”
“So that’s all I am to you, a fucking pawn?”
“I thought this was what you wanted?”
It is. So why do I feel like I’m being betrayed all over again?
I swivel sideways and push myself off the bed. “I’d like to leave now,” I say quietly.
“It’s for the best, Eve.”
“Is the compound safe?”
“Yes. It’s back under my control. My brother and his men are long gone.”
I nod and walk over to the door. I can’t look in his direction, or I’ll lose whatever willpower I have left.
“Give my pilot an hour to refuel.” His tone is devoid of emotion. It’s like we’re strangers already.
I pull the door toward me, but he moves swiftly and slams it shut again, his large palm lingering on the wood panel above my shoulder. He’s standing right behind me; I can feel his hot breath on my neck. Our bodies are thrumming with energy from our close proximity. His scent is so strong, so masculine. Two days without washing has made it even more potent.
“Eve…”
“Don’t.”
“Let me look upon you one last time.” He sounds weary. Undone.
“You don’t deserve it. You don’t deserve anything from me.”
“I know.”
But I turn anyway. It’s like a compulsion I can’t ignore.
There’s a shadow disfiguring his left cheekbone, and one socket is darkening already. Before I know it, I’m skating a finger across the wound on his forehead, his powerful body shudders beneath my touch. His eyes are burning embers. A fire for me, and me alone.
I’m transfixed, pulled under by his riptide, all over again. He looks so bloodied and glorious, like a warrior returning from battle. My gaze falls to his lips—so full, so smooth. I want to feel them on me so badly. If this is goodbye, I want our last kiss to be as memorable as our first.
Like always, he seems to know exactly what I need. Our resolve crumbles together, and he smashes his mouth down onto mine, delving deep and hungry, pinning me to the door with his weight.
“Damn this fucking life,” he groans. “Damn it straight to hell!”
“Come with me,” I beg him, drinking in the sharp contours of his face, his beauty no less dulled by these new scars. I remember my dream last night. I remember his smile. I remember how happy it made me feel to see it. “Turn your back on it, Dante. Walk away.”
His face contorts in agony. “I can’t.”
“There’s nothing left for you here.”
“It’s not that…” He curses, and I see the conflict written all over his face. “Christ, you have no idea, my angel, and I hope you never do.”
My dream begins to fade. My hopeless tears are drenching both of our cheeks. If this is how it has to be, I need to feel our connection one last time. Moments later, I’m tearing at the zipper of his pants. He reacts quickly by dragging my skirt up around my hips. I’m so wet for him, the moisture is slicking the top of my thighs as he slams me back against the door, his tongue engaging in a feverish dual with mine. I fling my arms around his neck to pull him closer, but he winces and twists away.
“Fuck!”
“What’s wrong?”
“I broke my shoulder.”
“Are you serious? You need to be in a hospital!”
He stares down at me for a beat, his lips twitching, and then I watch in wonder as the smile I dreamed about creeps slowly across his face.
I’m mesmerized.
It’s a sliver of light penetrating the bleakest of circumstances. It’s so much more than I’d hoped it would be. His first genuine smile for me is a thing of rare beauty—banishing his darkness and transforming his face into a priceless memory.
“Why are you so happy?” I whisper.
The smile widens. “For a moment there I could almost fool myself that you cared.”
“I do care, regardless of how wrong and messed-up that sounds. I hate you. I want you. And I’m fucked if I understand any of it.”
“Don’t curse.”
“Fuck you!”
“I have to send you away, Eve.”
“I wouldn’t stay if I could. ”
“I need to be inside you…” His last sentence tails off on a groan. Instantly that beat is back, my stomach muscles tightening in anticipation.
“Sit on the edge of the bed,” I tell him, and his eyes gleam with comprehension.
He takes a step back to unfasten his pants. I quickly wriggle out of my skirt and remove my T-shirt and bra. I can’t think about the horrors of his past. I’ve banished shame and guilt, momentarily. I want him too much—this man who desires my body as much as I desire his.
“You’re beautiful,” he states, raking his eyes over my nakedness, as if he’s committing every curve and flaw to memory. His dark pupils are nearly black with lust.
“So are you,” I say, climbing astride him, tipping my head back and moaning as he guides a nipple toward his mouth.
He sucks at it hungrily, his erection nudging the inside of my thigh as I gently rock my hips back and forth creating an exquisite friction between us. One hand is kneading the soft flesh of my ass, directing and encouraging me constantly, while the other lies redundant at his side. His shoulder must be hurting like hell. Pleasure is the only medicine I can offer him.
Lifting my hips, I wrap my fingers around the base of his cock and guide him toward my drenched sex, sinking slowly, savoring every perfect inch of him as he stretches me to my limits and beyond. He curses and stills as I work him all the way into me, tilting forward until my clitoris is pressed tightly against the burning skin and soft down of his lower abdomen. And then I pause, relishing the sensation of being filled so utterly and completely by him.
“I never dreamed anything could feel this good, mi alma . ”
“Never forget me.” My breath catches in my throat.
“You are forever imprinted on my soul.”
I let my forehead fall forward until it’s resting against his. At the same time, I cradle his strong jaw in my hands, taking care not to brush against his bruises.
“Make love to me, Eve. Leave me that one treasure.”
I smile down at him and circle my hips slowly, satisfying my aching sex, riding him gently so as not to jar his injured shoulder, making every single moment count. He groans again and buries his face into the side of my neck, circling my clitoris with his thumb until my rhythm starts to falter, and I’m trembling from the inside out.
Growling impatiently, he whips his hand away and brings his palm down hard on my ass cheek. The stinging slap makes my eyes fly open in surprise, and the walls of my sex convulse around his cock.
“Too slow. I want you screaming my name, not panting it.”
“You told me to make love to you!”
“I’ve changed my mind.”
“You don’t get to dictate this.”
“I always dictate this.” Pivoting sideways onto his good arm, he flips me onto my back and drags me to the edge of the bed by my hips.
“Dante, your shoulder!”
“Fuck my shoulder. We’re not cut out for making love. I want to devour you, not treat you like a pet.” He grabs the insides of my thighs and opens my legs wide, baring my most intimate part to him. He pauses, his gaze fixated on my glistening sex. “Christ, Eve,” he mutters. “You bring me to my knees every goddamn time.”
His words spike my body with lust. “Fuck me,” I say desperately. “Do it, Dante!” I ball my fists around the bedsheet and arch my back, opening myself wider, urging him to take me any way he desires.
“Quiet. Let me look at you. I will never see a sight more exquisite than this.”
“Damn you!” I’m hurtling closer and closer to the abyss. I never knew a woman could orgasm from words alone. “Give me something, hurry! Your cock, your fingers, your lips, your tongue…”
“I need to mark you first,” he snarls, his expression both singular and primitive. “Keep your legs open. You’re mine, Eve Miller.”
“Always.”
He grasps his cock and starts to stroke the shaft right there in front of me, pumping his fist up and down in a brutal fashion. I watch his expression switch to hunger and determination, and suddenly his intention is clear.
I glance down. The smooth head of his cock is so close to my outer lips. His body is straining to reach his release, his pumping almost violent in its intensity. I can’t stop staring at him—this savage picture of virility and desire.
His olive skin is covered in a thin sheen of sweat, his head is thrown back, his eyes are shut tight. He’s so damn close…
He comes with a low hiss of my name, directing his spurting cum all over me, coating my sex and thighs in his sticky warmth and then using his fingers to spread himself into every crease and crevice. “Mine,” he repeats, enthralling me with the roughness in his voice before he’s plunging two fingers inside of me.
The crude nature of his act seals my fate. With a harsh rasping cry, I come too, the walls of my sex throbbing and burning as I’m pushed to the brink by his need to claim me like this.
There’s a moment of clarity as the lights spin above my head like fireworks on the Fourth Of July, and it’s one that both frightens and exhilarates me. He’s the blood pumping through my veins, the last gasp of breath in my lungs, my dreams, my nightmares, and everything in between.
No matter the distance, no matter the circumstance, no matter who dares to try and tear us apart, I will always be his.
Forever.