Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 68431 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 342(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68431 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 342(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
Max let out an abrupt, self-mocking laugh. He would allow her the point she’d just scored because ultimately, the game would be his.
****
God, she couldn’t believe she’d dropped the sheet in front of him. But maybe it had been a good thing. Maybe it proved that he didn’t mean shit to her, and by damn, he didn’t. She wouldn’t let herself care for him—but she would win. She didn’t know exactly what his plans were—but the look in his eyes when she’d dropped the sheet told her that whatever his plans were, they included having sex with her—on a continual basis.
The thought made her shaky on the inside and her nudity wasn’t helping. Erin chose the first thing that she found and after donning the clothing as quickly as she could, she leaned into the vanity and stared into the mirror. Glancing down, she fisted her trembling fingers, trying to find some control. She had zero time to analyze her situation, because she heard a couple of dings and then an abrupt knock on the door.
“Erin, get out here, now.”
****
Chapter Four
At the sound of Max’s unmistakable voice, Erin rolled her eyes and bracing herself, opened the door. “Yes?” she forced in an overly pleasant tone.
He gave her a slow, layered look but seemed to choose to ignore her sarcasm. “We’re about to descend. I want you in a seat and buckled.”
Refraining from answering, she merely inclined her head and then walked past him, deliberately choosing a different seat from the one he’d earlier indicated. As she began to sit¸ he was suddenly there, grasping her wrist with firm fingers. She looked into his eyes and found them smoldering down at her—and her heartbeat went off the charts. With no cooperation on her part, he pulled her to her feet again and swung her around until her butt landed in the seat that he evidently had strong feelings about. Leaning over her, with precise movements, he lifted the buckle and snapped her in. With one hand on the arm of her chair, he lifted her chin with the other. “Don’t make this harder on yourself than it needs to be.”
The sibilant words were nothing less than a threat and that was exactly the way she took them—with his fingers pinching her chin in a mockery of a caress, there was no other way she could take them. His strident warning ringing in her ears, she looked up into a face gone hard with a lack of emotion. She tilted her face up to his, meeting his cold visage head on. “I wouldn’t dream of it, Mr. Santiago.” She clenched her teeth as her temper soared, “Or is my last name Villarreal? I think I have a right to know.”
His eyes blazed as his touch left her chin to thread through her hair. “Villarreal,” he answered tersely before leaning in and pressing hot, hard lips to hers. He never tried to force her lips open; he only continued to press into hers, so hard she could feel her teeth grinding against the inner flesh of her mouth. She sucked in a breath through her nose and finally, he released her. His hand slid to the arm of her chair, his embrace completely encircling her as his gaze pierced into hers. “Don’t develop an attitude. I promise you, it won’t endear you to me at all.”
“Why in the hell would I want to endear myself to you? I want you to leave me out of whatever argument you might have with my family and take me home.” She finished that last bit through gritted teeth and as his features hardened even more, she thought for a moment that he’d shoot her a flaming retort. But when the sound of the engines altered, with a look of stifled reproach, he released the arms of her chair and stood to his full height. His stare was measured and quelling, and then in complete silence, he sat down beside her and buckled himself in.
She couldn’t just sit in silence—she was so mad and hurt she could barely breathe properly. “I want an explanation, Mr. Villarreal. And I want to go back home.”
The harsh, furious expression on his face filled her with another dose of unease. “We’re landing. We’ll talk, later. And if you call me ‘Mr. Villarreal’ just once more, I’ll blister your ass—you understand me?”
Blister her ass? How-fucking-dare he? She clamped her mouth closed, pointedly turned her head and looked out the window.
The weather that met her when she came down the steps was mild, possibly sixty degrees, and as they walked across the tarmac to a single engine Cessna, Erin felt a further flash of panic. It was obvious that they were about to fly away from Buenos Aires before they even stepped inside the terminal, and her stomach sank with the realization. They were at a small runway on the very outskirts of the airport, and Max held her hand in a firm grip while the officials marked their paperwork. Glancing around, she saw no opportunity for escape and before she knew it, she was seated in a much smaller plane.