Hold Me Close (Dangerous Obsession #3)

Chapter 1

OLIVIA

Elephants were on the runway, making landing impossible. This wasn’t a delay I’d encountered before. My co-pilot Rory and I guided the Bombardier down to buzz the landing strip, startling the impressive beasts on their way, before we maneuvered to make our approach.

It wasn’t much of a runway. More a level strip of grassy land that the luxury game lodge groomed for their wealthiest clients, so they had somewhere to set down their private jets. The only alternative was to land at Johannesburg and drive three hours to the middle of nowhere.

There was no way the eldest son of the Abramo family was going to put up with that.

The plane bounced and shuddered down the runway, and I had to fight the yoke in my hands to bring the aircraft to a stop on the dirt-packed, uneven road. Then I powered down the engines and the jet slowed to a crawl with South African soil beneath the wheels.

A few more flights and my trial contract as the Abramos’ pilot would be up. Usually, I flew for the patriarch, an intimidating man whose scrutinizing gaze made me break out into an uneasy sweat. I didn’t let people scare me, but every hair stood on end in his presence.

The Abramos didn’t speak English.

It was like that language was too ugly to come out of their refined mouths.

The entire flight crew spoke no Italian, and this was by design.

During my interview for the job, the translator explained the language barrier was so the Abramos could discuss sensitive business information in flight, but I wasn’t a fool.

I knew what type of business they were really in.

I unlatched the cockpit door and collided face-first with a man’s hard chest. I shot him a perturbed look, like it was his fault I’d walked into him.

Nathan.

The unfamiliar American was enormous, at least six and a half feet tall, all muscle stretched across his lean frame.

Dark, straight hair that was longer on top and swept to one side.

His eyes were magnetic. As black as the gun I’d seen holstered under his arm.

I didn’t like armed passengers on my bird, but it wasn’t as if I could ask Giovanni’s private security guard to stow his weapon in the hold.

I couldn’t ask him because Nathan scared the hell out of me.

Giovanni’s usual bodyguard and translator for this safari had come down with the stomach flu at the last minute, and Nathan had taken his place. The moment I’d seen him, something tightened in my chest and my breath went shallow.

I’d spent most of the flight down here trying not to think about him, or how embarrassed he’d been when he realized I was the captain and not the flight attendant.

After his apology, we’d had a quiet moment together.

His job was to ensure nothing dangerous made its way onboard, and I told him I thought the most dangerous thing was probably standing in front of me.

He didn’t deny it.

In fact, there’d been no reaction at all from him.

He appeared to be the same age as I was, but maybe he was older than thirty-five. He looked tired, like he hadn’t slept during either leg of the flight. Even tired, this man still looked dangerous. That gun, those muscles, those furiously intense eyes.

Predatory and beautiful.

He stared down at me now, his face expressionless, but there was something lurking in his gaze. Curiosity? I’d always been good at reading people, which made me great at poker, but didn’t help with much else.

“Sorry if the landing was a little rough,” I said.

He shrugged as if he couldn’t care less, but again, there was an edge to his expression, hinting at something . . . else. “It was fine.”

His voice was deep and sent my stomach uncharacteristically twisting.

“We’ve both had rougher,” announced Rory, who lingered in the cockpit and finished powering down the electronics. He was Scottish with gray hair and a few extra pounds around the midsection, and an easy-going calmness that I admired.

He was right. I’d certainly had rougher landings, but I kept my face blank.

Nathan’s dark eyes narrowed, discerning.

Like he saw past it, right to the dark memory of that crash I tucked away.

I ripped my gaze from his and turned my attention to the young British cabin attendant who was setting the stairway in place.

Stuart was nice. He was bright and happy and so polite that sometimes I felt inferior when he was around.

Like there was something wrong with me for not being able to find a smile as quickly as he could.

It was pleasant outside, probably sixty degrees in the shade and warmer under the sun. Spring even though it was late November. Being south of the equator messed with my head.

On the tarmac, a collection of people waited, staff of the private game reserve. Nathan translated our boss’s demands to them, and while some began to unload the luggage, the travel party of two, plus my flight crew, were ushered into a waiting van.

It was a short trip down a hill and, when we rounded a curve, the resort came into view.

This place must cost a fortune.

Smaller, thatched-roofed cabins dotted the side of the hill, with the larger, main lodge perched in the middle. Everything faced the valley and the river that cut through it where a pod of hippos swam offshore. The van pulled up to the main entrance, and the driver gestured for us to go inside.

“There are no fences here,” Phillip, the manager of the resort said. “We’ve seen leopards in our trees and had crocodiles in the swimming pool. If you need to leave your cabin after dark, for your safety, please call for an armed escort.”

The man was maybe forty and married to the head of staff. The blonde woman beside him didn’t say anything, but her stiff posture and alert eyes gave me the impression she was the one really running the show.

“Do you want to do a game drive this afternoon?” Phillip asked.

Immediately, Italian rolled out of Nathan’s mouth, and I struggled to keep mine from falling open as he translated for our boss. God, Italian was sexy when it passed through Nathan’s lips.

Giovanni confirmed his answer with a nod.

“Anyone who cares to join us,” the owner continued, “we’ll head out after high tea, which is at two-thirty.”

High tea. The tired, uncultured American inside me choked back a comment.

I followed the staff member down a sandy path away from the lodge to an individual cabin.

As the only woman on the flight crew, I had a cabin all to myself.

The carved bed was draped in mosquito netting, more for decoration than any practical purpose since the building was climate-controlled.

A pair of leather chairs sandwiched a couch that looked out the large French doors to the river valley beyond.

“Lock your doors,” the man who brought in the luggage said, “even when you’re in the room. The monkeys are naughty and smart. They make a big mess when they get inside.”

When he was gone, I stripped out of my black flight crew uniform and collapsed on the bed.

After three good hours of sleep, I showered and dressed in muted colors.

I’d read that white attracted malaria-carrying mosquitoes and red made the rhinos aggressive.

I wove my thick, straight, dark-brown hair into a braid that trailed down the back of my tan shirt.

The resort had set out quite a spread with slices of meats, cheeses, and an assortment of freshly baked bread.

I fixed a cup of lemon tea and a sandwich and stepped out onto the empty veranda beneath the thatched roof, setting my plate on the long, rectangular table that faced the river.

The sandwich was good. Much better than the cardboard food I was accustomed to inflight.

I could get used to high tea.

“Can I join you, Olivia?” The deep, male voice startled me, and I sucked in a breath at the sight of him.

“Nathan,” I said, “how long have you been standing there?”

“I just came over.”

He hadn’t shaved, and dark stubble covered his face. For some insane reason, I wanted to abrade my fingertips over it. Yeah, there was a great idea.

“Oh. I didn’t hear you.”

He was tall, and broad, too. How had he appeared out of thin air like that?

“You didn’t rest long. Aren’t you tired?” he asked as he sat down across from me. There were a dozen other available seats, and yet he chose that one. The one that forced me to look at those shockingly intense and dark eyes.

“I’m one of those people who doesn’t need a lot of sleep.”

I took a bite of my fruit salad, and when I set the fork down, it was askew. I nudged it so it was parallel with the butter knife. A simple gesture, but I saw him blink, and I could tell he picked up on it instantly.

Yeah, I liked everything in its place.

Was he the same? Was that gun in its place, zipped beneath the gray, expensive-looking fleece jacket he wore? We lapsed into silence and I shifted in my seat, uncomfortable. How much did he know about our employer?

His gaze didn’t waver; it was like a challenge. But he was the one to sit down, so he could kick off the awkward small talk.

“How long have you lived overseas?”

“A few years now,” I said. “You?”

His jaw tightened a degree. “A while. Do you miss it?”

The question was unexpected. “America?”

He nodded.

Of course I did, but it was easier here. “Yeah, sometimes.” The quiet was heavy. “Where in the States are you from?”

He took a long sip of his coffee, and the lines around his eyes hinted he was desperate for the caffeine. “Kentucky.”

Really? “You don’t sound like you’re from the South.”

“Not everyone in Kentucky sounds like a hick.” He delivered it with no emotion, but it came out biting anyway. “And you?”

“I moved around a lot growing up.” People didn’t seem to like vague answers. “Michigan, I guess.”

The silence returned.

I took a sip of my tea and focused back on the river, like I was no longer interested in the man staring at me, even though I was. A small herd of impalas grazed on the far shore, undisturbed by the grunting and snorting hippos that rumbled like motors in the water nearby.