Rosa nods. “They play with the guards on North Tower Two. Every Thursday afternoon from two to six.”
“They do?” My heartbeat kicks up again. Is Rosa telling me what I think she’s telling me?
“Yes,” she says evenly. “It’s not a problem because the drones patrol the perimeter around the estate, and there are heat and motion sensors everywhere. Anything approaching the border of the estate, no matter how small or big, gets scanned and examined by our security software, and the guards get alerted if the computer thinks there’s a problem.”
My pulse is now a frantic drumbeat. “I see.” Anything approaching, she said. That means the computer disregards things heading in the other direction. “How far is the northern border of the estate from here?”
Rosa hesitates, and I kick myself for being too blunt. She clearly wants to pretend she’s just chatting with me, and whatever information I glean is something she’s giving by accident.
“Two and a half miles,” she finally says, and I exhale in relief. I didn’t scare her off after all. “There’s a river that marks that border,” she continues, dropping all pretense. “Farther to the west, a small road crosses the river. It goes all the way north to Miraflores. Occasionally, we get some deliveries via that route.” She pauses, then adds, “The next delivery is scheduled for Thursday at three p.m.”
“Thursday at three,” I repeat, hardly able to believe my luck. “As in, this Thursday afternoon. The day after tomorrow.”
She nods. “We’re getting some food items brought in.”
“Okay.” My mind is racing, sifting through the potential obstacles. “What about—”
“I have to go now,” Rosa says, stepping even closer. “Lucas will be home soon.” She brushes her fingers over the book I’m holding, and her hand touches mine for a second. “Bye, Yulia,” she says quietly before turning and hurrying out of the room.
Stunned, I look down and see two small objects on top of my book.
A razor blade and a hairpin.
27
Lucas
It’s after eight by the time I get home. To my relief, Yulia is calmly reading in her armchair when I step into the library.
“Sorry it took so long,” I say, approaching the chair to untie her. “You must be starved—not to mention, needing the restroom.”
She looks up at me, and I see that her eyes are slightly reddened, as if she’s been crying. She doesn’t say anything, but I don’t expect her to. I have a strong suspicion tonight’s dinner won’t be a particularly chatty affair.
Bending down, I untie her and help her out of the armchair, ignoring the way she stiffens at my touch.
“Come. It’s getting late.” Determined to maintain control of my temper, I lead her to the bathroom.
I wait as Yulia uses the restroom, and then I bring her to the kitchen. I was hoping she’d make dinner despite being upset, but she just sits down at the table and stares straight ahead.
“All right,” I say, not letting my irritation show. “You can sit if you want. I’ll heat up some leftovers.”
She doesn’t respond, doesn’t even move as I set the table and prepare everything. Luckily, the chicken and mashed potatoes she made for lunch taste great even when warmed up in the microwave.
Given Yulia’s withdrawn state, I half-expect her not to eat, but she digs into the food the moment I set the plate in front of her.
I guess her hunger is stronger than her anger with me.
We demolish the chicken in silence; then I cut us each a slice of apple pie for dessert. I’m about to put Yulia’s slice on her plate when she startles me by saying, “None for me, thanks. I’m full.”
“All right.” I conceal my pleasure at having her speak again. “Do you want any tea?”
She nods and rises to her feet. “I’ll get it.”
With those graceful, efficient movements I’ve come to know, she makes us each a cup and brings them over. Placing one cup in front of me, she sits down across the table and blows on her tea to cool it down. I do the same before taking a sip. The liquid is hot and slightly bitter, but not unpleasant. I can almost see why Yulia likes it so much.
We don’t speak as we drink our tea, but the silence doesn’t feel quite as strained as before. It gives me hope that this evening won’t be a total disaster.
When we’re done with the tea, I take care of the cleanup while Yulia sits and watches me, her expression unreadable. Does she hate me? Wish she could stab me with the nearest fork? Hope I never return from this trip?
The thought is more than a little unpleasant.
Pushing it aside, I finish wiping the counters and approach Yulia. “I arranged for two guards to watch over you in my absence,” I say. “Diego and Eduardo. You’ve already met Diego—he’s the one who carried you off the plane.”
“Yes, I remember him.” Yulia’s voice is quiet as she rises to her feet. “He seems like a decent-enough guy.”
“He is—and so is Eduardo.” I stop in front of her. “They’ll take good care of you.”
“Jail me, you mean,” she says evenly, looking up at me.
“Whatever you wish to call it.” I lift my hand to pick up a lock of her hair. “They’ll make sure you have everything you need.”
She nods and takes a small step back, her silky strands sliding out of my fingers. “All right.”
“Come.” I catch her wrist before she can step out of my reach. “Let’s go to bed. I have to wake up early.”
She stiffens, but allows me to lead her to the bathroom without an argument. I let her in there to take a quick shower—I showered earlier, so I don’t need one—and then I take her to the bedroom. As we enter the room, my cock rises in anticipation and erotic images fill my mind.
Fighting off the sudden surge of lust, I stop next to the bed and turn to face Yulia. Releasing her wrist, I frame her face with my palms, smoothing errant strands of hair back with my thumbs. She doesn’t move, just gazes at me mutely, her blue eyes large and shadowed in her delicate face.
“Yulia…” I don’t know what I can say to her, how I can fix the situation, but I have to try. The thought of leaving for two weeks while things are so strained between us is unbearable. “It doesn’t have to be this way,” I say softly. “It can be… better.”
She blinks, as if startled by my words, and I see a fresh sheen of moisture in her eyes. “What are you talking about?” she whispers, her hands coming up to curl around my wrists. “Isn’t this what you wanted? To hurt me? To punish me?”
“No.” I let her pull my hands away from her face. “No, Yulia. I don’t want to hurt you, believe me.”
Her eyebrows draw together as she releases my wrists. “Then how can you—”
“I don’t want to discuss this anymore. It’s done. We’re going to move past this. Do you understand me?” My words come out unintentionally harsh, and I see her flinch as she takes a step back.
I take a deep breath. The jealousy is still festering inside me, but I’m determined not to let it spoil our last night together. Forcing myself to move slowly and deliberately, I pull off my T-shirt and drop it on the floor, then remove my shoes, shorts, and underwear. Yulia watches me, her cheeks turning a soft shade of pink as her gaze falls on my growing erection. To my relief, I see the hardened peaks of her nipples through the white material of her dress.
She might hate me, but she still wants me.
“Come here.” Unable to hold off any longer, I reach for her, clasping her slim shoulders. She’s stiff as I pull her toward me, but I see the pulse throbbing at the base of her throat. She’s far from immune to me, and I intend to use that.
One way or another, tonight Yulia won’t be thinking of her lover.
I bend my head, wanting to taste her soft lips, but at the last moment, she turns her head and my mouth grazes her jaw instead. I feel her shudder, and then she twists out of my grasp altogether and backs away. Her chest is heaving and her face is flushed, her eyes glittering as she stares at me.
“I can’t—” Yulia’s voice cracks. “I can’t do this, Lucas. Not after—”
“Stop.” The unwanted jealousy returns, the pit of my stomach burning with anger as I come after her. “I told you I don’t want to discuss this.”
She keeps backing away. “But—”
“Not another word.” Her back meets the dresser, and I close the remaining distance between us, trapping her there. Placing my palms on the dresser on both sides of her head, I lean closer, breathing in her delicate scent. Every dark fantasy I’ve ever had slides through my mind, and my voice roughens as I whisper in her ear, “I’ve had enough of this. You’re mine now, and it’s time you learned what that means.”
28
Yulia
The damp heat of Lucas’s breath on my ear makes me quiver, my thighs clenching convulsively to contain the growing ache between them. The treachery of my body adds to the tumult in my mind. I thought I’d have to force myself to endure his touch, but revulsion is the last thing I’m feeling.