Total pages in book: 767
Estimated words: 732023 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 3660(@200wpm)___ 2928(@250wpm)___ 2440(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 732023 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 3660(@200wpm)___ 2928(@250wpm)___ 2440(@300wpm)
The man moved so I could see nothing but him. He had tangoed us into a dark corner, away from anyone else, and my heart started to thump. He lowered his mouth to my ear. “What if I’m not a stranger?”
He was playing games. As he isolated me from the crowd, all I heard was Cristiano de la Rosa’s threats to my nine-year-old self. You don’t know true fear.
“What are you doing?” I asked, trying to see around him.
“Tell me. Are you willing to die for your fiancé?”
The eerie echo of the soothsayer’s words made my face heat with anger. “Are you willing to die for me?”
“Excuse me?”
“If you don’t let me go,” I said, searching for the most menacing threat I could, “I’ll scream.”
“I thought you could take care of yourself.”
“I’m no match for your size. I wouldn’t scream to be rescued, but as the fastest means to get a gun in your face.”
“I see. Do you think they’ll hear you over the music?” he asked, sounding amused.
“I’ll scream as loud as I can, for as long as I can, until my vocal cords give out or I can no longer keep my mouth open.”
A disarmingly slow smile moved over his face, the teeth of his disguise spreading ear to ear. “I admit, I am curious to see how long you can keep your mouth open.”
I shivered at the insinuation and pulled back, this time unable to hide my shock. “You’ve threatened the wrong person. I can have you killed in seconds without lifting a finger.”
“Then I’d like to change my order. Please tell the heavens it is my dying wish to hear you scream.”
He spoke with a rumble so deep, I felt his voice between my legs. And I was sure, by the way his eyes bore into mine, he’d meant me to. He wanted my screams, and to scare me, but it didn’t come from a place of menace. I couldn’t put my finger on his intention, but it was something much more carnal.
We were no longer dancing, but his hand still clenched mine as his fingers buried into the skin of my back. He held me like I was an instrument to be played, one he would snap in half before he gave it up. Not even Diego held me so greedily.
“Then I’ll grant you your wish,” I threatened.
“Your loyalty to him is admirable if not baffling.” He checked over his shoulder, then released me with a bow. “We’ve been discovered anyway. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll have to take you with me.”
I’ll have to take you with me.
I’d heard those words in my nightmares and any place I was alone in the dark too long. “What?” I asked, my throat suddenly dry as I was transported back to the tunnel.
“I said, I’ll have to take my leave. Excuse me.”
He walked away, leaving me in darkness as I hung on his words, torn between never wanting to see him again and a temptation to call him back—in a way that felt all too familiar.
Diego pushed his way through the crowd. “Who was that?” he asked when he finally reached me.
“I don’t know,” I said, hugging myself. “I told him I didn’t want to dance.”
“And the bastard put his hands on you anyway? I should get Barto so we can hunt that cabrón down and teach him some manners.” Diego searched the space around us. “I told you not to come.”
“You knew I would anyway.”
He paused, then glanced over my costume, and his expression relaxed. “In a mask that didn’t fool me for a second. You make a liar of an innocent butterfly, Natalia.”
“I didn’t lie,” I said, cozying up to him, pulling gently on his bolo tie. The braided leather was held together by a metal shield with his family name in decorative script. “I said I’d stay home, and I did. This is my home.”
He drew his brows together, something unfamiliar sparking in his eyes, but then he glanced away.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Nothing.”
I ducked my head to get him to look at me. “No, it’s something. Tell me.”
“I promise, it was a passing thought.”
I crossed my arms. “Diego.”
He took my shoulders and brought me close to kiss my forehead. “It’s nothing bad. I just had this weird . . . sense of joy hearing you call this place home again.”
His sense of joy was my sinking feeling. Diego’s attachment to this town was stronger than mine; he’d never lived anywhere else. There were times I questioned how devoted he was to leaving here. He said he wanted a life in California with me, yet he continued to embed himself in the cartel and ingratiate himself with my father.
“This place will always be part of me,” I said, “but I can’t call this home again. Not knowing that every day I’m here, every day you’re here, death is a possibility.”