Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 83818 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83818 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
"I understand," I said, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "But know this, Renata—I’ll fight like hell for that future, for us, even when you can’t believe in it yourself.”
She frowned slightly. "Then how can you make it sound so simple?" she asked, a note of acute accusation in her voice.
I sighed. “I don’t know if it has to be that complicated.”
Did everything have to be?
For a moment, the walls she had built around herself seemed to crumble, and she leaned into me, resting her head on my shoulder. We sat there in silence, the weight of everything between us, like the hot, humid air of a Colombian summer.
“Yeah,” she whispered. “Maybe you’re right. I hope you are.”
In that moment, I saw a glimpse of the future I longed for. A future where Renata and I could be together, free from the shadows that haunted us. And I vowed to myself that no matter what, no matter who stood in our way, I would make that happen.
I wake beside Renata, moonlight spilling through the curtains. Last night, she gave me a sharp look when it was mentioned we would be sharing the guest room. After what happened between us, it felt natural to me, but for her… I’m not sure. She’s still guarded, still wary, and for good reason.
I had expected her to protest, but she didn’t. She climbed into bed, put her head on the pillow, and by the time I joined her, she was fast asleep.
Now she stirs and leans toward me, her small foot brushing against my leg and her hand resting on my abs. Her warmth seeps into me, and I hold her there, my hand on the small of her back, savoring the rare moment of peace. She isn’t awake yet. When she is, I doubt she’ll be this cozy.
Renata is going to be my wife.
I’ll wake beside her every day.
If only I could trust her…
You know I didn’t, she had said. But talk is cheap, and loyalty is proven.
If she wants to show that she didn’t betray us, that what she says is true, and her brother took her to Colombia to threaten her or to instill fear into us, she’ll start by marrying me.
I’ll watch how she responds to Carlos’s retribution.
I’m expecting a swift, merciless response from him if he is indeed alive and as predictable as I suspect.
I’m lost in a world all my own when I realize her eyes are open. Instead of leaping away from me or cowering in fear, she lies quietly beside me.
Maybe she wasn’t as immune to what happened between us as she’d like me to think she was.
I take in her caramel-colored cheeks and warm brown eyes, framed with long, thick black lashes and bold, striking brows. Her lips are turned down in a hint of a pout. I want to kiss them, lick them, bite them, and make them part in a scream while I savor the taste of her.
I swallow, hard as fuck already, and reach my hand to brush my thumb along the scar on her right cheek. She flinches away from me, but I don’t let her.
My voice is rough and husky in the early morning, tempered with the effort of maintaining control. “Who gave you this scar?”
Always fucking maintain control.
The corner of her lips quirks up in a sad smile. “You have to ask? My brother, of course. Who else?”
I blow out a breath. “Your brother’s evil.”
She swallows and nods, then says in a little voice, as if trying to convince herself more than me, “He wasn’t always that way. There was a time when he was my protector. There was a time when we were allies, Ollie.”
She runs her thumb along my lower abdomen, her touch stirring an awareness in me. I can’t believe that she’ll be mine. I hardly know what to do with myself.
I shake my head. “I don’t care that he used to be good to you. What matters is how he treats you now. You know I’ll—if he were alive, I’d have to kill him.”
Her eyes flash at me in the darkness. “If I didn’t get to him first.”
When she turns from me, a shadow of pain crosses her face. “Does your arm hurt?”
“Like a son of a bitch,” she says. “But that’s not it. I just hate what has to happen with my brother.”
There are a lot of things that fucking suck about what’s happened to both of us, what has to happen still. If it were me, I’d want to shoot myself before I killed one of my brothers, no matter how badly they betrayed me.
I’m glad I don’t have to make that decision.
I tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear.
“What makes you happy, Renata?”
She thinks for a moment before replying, thoughtful as if she’s sifting through thoughts and memories to get to something happy. I expect it will take her a while to respond, but she has a ready answer.