Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79312 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79312 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
“Mmm?” I ask, my heart beating a little faster. I never had anyone who was interested in buying things for me before, and I’m always touched by the gesture. “Let me guess. You bought me one of those Caribbean islands I was ogling the other day online.”
He snorts and shakes his head. “Caribbean? Definitely not. Though I might be persuaded by Hawaii.”
“Oh? Are you prejudiced, sir?”
“I am. I’m not really fond of hurricanes,” he says, weaving his fingers through my mass of curls. “Unless they’re in the form of a woman, of course, who happens to wear my ring and bear my name.”
I stifle a giggle. “Of course.”
“Hawaii’s easier to travel to. Communication’s easier. We can use the same currency.”
“Fair, fair. Are you telling me you want to go to Hawaii?”
“Some day, yeah. You?”
I nod. “Absolutely. Have you seen that macadamia nut cake that went viral?”
He grins. “No, but I’ll take your word for it. I love how you prioritize travel based on cake options.”
I nod decidedly. “I do have my priorities.”
He holds a box out to me. “No tickets to Hawaii here and sadly no cake, but maybe you’ll like this just the same.”
I open the box to find a set of ornate matches and a small bottle of the perfume I used when I was younger. “You remembered,” I whisper, my voice thick. I swallow hard.
He brushes a tendril of hair off my cheek. “I remember everything about you.”
I laugh. “Sometimes I wish you’d forget the darker parts.”
Bending down to me, he kisses the top of my head, where my hair’s gone all frizzy with the heat of the fire. “Never. Those are my favorite parts.”
I place the little gifts down by our chairs. We stand together watching the fire when Nikita starts barking with a vengeance. Viktor and I exchange a look. She only ever barks like that when we have visitors, and none of our typical security alarms have triggered.
He pushes me behind him, closer to the fire, on instinct, while he scowls into the darkness. At first, we see nothing.
“Show yourself,” Viktor barks out. “Immediately, or I’ll give the command to my dog to attack.” He snaps his fingers at Nikita who sits obediently, still growling.
It’s no idle threat. I peek to the right of Viktor’s enormous bicep and draw in a quick breath when a woman emerges from the shadows, her small hands in front of her in a gesture of surrender. As she draws closer, the flickering fire illuminates her features. Striking green eyes radiate determination and intelligence, and something else I can’t quite put my finger on, but it makes a shiver snake down my spine. There’s an air of fearlessness about her that borders insanity—it’s downright terrifying.
Long, chestnut-brown hair hangs in a thick ponytail, and her petite but athletic build exudes strength and agility. I have a strange feeling she could leap over the fire unscathed and disappear into the night like a leopard. Dressed in sleek all-black clothing, she looks ready to rob a bank or overthrow a tyrannical regime, depending on whatever tickles her fancy first.
She shouldn’t be here, and yet I’m somehow completely entranced and want her to stay. I’m madly in love with my husband, but in the few seconds I’ve observed this woman, I think I’ve already developed a girl crush.
Still, I don’t trust her. She got here by some sort of witchcraft. No one enters our estate unnoticed. Nikita’s barking is the last warning, not the first.
“You.” Viktor’s voice holds a world of accusation, but the woman only grins as if flattered by the recognition.
Bowing, she gives him a grin, flashing perfectly straight white teeth and full lips with a glimmer of pale pink gloss. “Isabella Morales, at your service. Really, Viktor, you need better surveillance.”
He narrows his eyes. “Why the hell are you here?”
She pokes her head around his arm but doesn’t come any nearer. “I’d like a formal introduction to your wife, of course.”
He growls, but I tug on the hem of his tee. “I don’t know her, Viktor, so maybe you can indulge her.” I want to know who she is.
“Lydia, this is Isabella Morales, the sister of Javier Morales of the Los Sangre Dorada Cartel.”
Oh God. I stare, my mouth unhinged. The Los Sangre Dorada—or LSD, for short—is the most cutthroat cartel south of the border. Aria’s told me at length what they’ve done and why they are to be feared.
“Isabella, this is my wife, Lydia,” he says through clenched teeth.
“I know,” she says with a slow, menacing smile. I take an involuntary step closer to Viktor. “You looked stunning in that wedding dress, Lydia. It would be such a shame if anything were to happen to such a beauty. Pleased to see someone’s managed to hook this guy. I thought he’d be single forever.” She winks. “Enjoy marital bliss while you can.”