Orderly ebony hair holds a glossy sheen, still wet from an early morning shower and the dusting of stubble on his strong jaw is trimmed to a shadow. Loose black gym shorts sit comfortably on angular hip bones, low enough to reveal a scattered collection of shorn pubic hairs, regretfully trailing out of sight.
He clears his throat. The rumble of that one throaty reverberation instantly loops my gaze and whips it upward. I swallow swiftly to drown the annoying flutters in my chest, using what little saliva I have left.
Furious he’s so insanely sexy. Out of defiance, I fold my arms and look away, focusing on the massive black television housed in a towering wooden cabinet.
“Sleep well?” Tomás moves back further into his home office, making no sound as his bare feet cover a woven rug.
He skirts a matching pair of ebony leather couches and sits in the high back leather office chair behind his uncluttered mahogany desk, blocking the warm haze of dawn trying to kiss his bare skin and rests his elbows on the surface.
I nod in response, having fallen asleep beside him without feeling afraid.
“Do you want a couple of tablets to ease the pain from that cut on your head?”
“It doesn’t hurt. I’ve had worse.” My gaze drifts to the unusual artwork hung on the grainy gray wallpaper behind his head.
An obscure canvas, riotous and spine-chilling—like every nightmare I’ve suffered and every unspeakable thought I’ve sealed in a box within my mind. The cataclysmic image taps into my psyche and projects a visual destination.
It somehow connects me to the grisly emotions I thought I had suppressed all those years ago—when I mindlessly concluded life wasn’t worth living. Before my younger self eventually chose to keep fighting in a world where cruelty reigns.
Frenzied streaks in the evilest pigment of red collide with endless slashes of deathly black to create a massacre of brush strokes and art. I cock my head, hypnotized by the artist's chaos. By his depiction of mental hell.
“You painted this, didn’t you?” Eyes glued to the artwork, I unstick my feet and glide toward it, entranced by the stirring bond it somehow offers me. “This is where you go, isn’t it?” He doesn’t reply. “I’m not scared of your darkness, Tomás.” My voice haunts the silence. “I recognize it.”
“Well then, you’ll understand how it swallows people whole.” He warns.
Thoughtlessly, I brush my fingertips over the ridges of dried paint, unintentionally shifting the canvas’ position ever so slightly. His chair swivels and he stands, our arms lightly brushing. Tomás reaches up and fixes the offset artwork back in place.
“Have you eaten?” He changes the subject, his tone dismissive, like I’ve shone a flashlight into his soul and pinpointed a terminal disease.
“Not yet.” I stare up at him and swallow when his gaze merges with mine.
His perfectly black eyes aren’t callous or malignant. They project an unreadable depth leading to his tarnished soul. A force of nature so compelling it draws you in until the world you once knew is left in dancing dust.
He pivots to the desk, collects an envelope from the top drawer, and taps it on his open palm, deep in thought. “This is for you. It’s non-negotiable. If I suspect collusion of any sort, I’ll take matters into my own hands.” Tomás offers it to me and lifts his brows expectantly. “Read it while you have breakfast.”
I frown, unsure if this is the moment I make the biggest mistake of my life or welcome the most profound adventure. “Will I need a legal team to review it?” I ask sarcastically, plucking it from his fingers.
The corners of his mouth curl as he grunts from the back of his throat like a rare rumble of laughter. “I imagine yourlegalteam would advise you not to accept.”
That sexy sound, so enticing and yet very criminal, has my heart rate at full throttle. “Then perhaps I won’t.”
Tomás pauses, his eyes fix to mine as those large hands of his shelf on his hips. “Opportunities like this don’t exist in the Souza cartel very often, if at all. You’d be wise to strongly consider your next move.” He stretches out his hand in the palpable space separating us and swipes a thumb over my scarred mouth. “I believe you’ll make the right choice. Follow me. You need to eat.”
He stares at me as if he’s using an invisible power to manipulate my mind with seductive persuasiveness. Then he takes my hand, interlocks our fingers, and guides me out of his office.
“You know this is immoral,” I admonish. “Imprisoning a woman and threatening her family, so you can screw her whenever you want.”
Tomás doesn’t even try to hide the smirk ghosting his handsome features. “You’re right. Nothing about this is morally just—for you. However, for me, it’s simply another business deal.” He shrugs. “On the bright side, I guarantee you’ll enjoy it.”
“A business deal?” I admonish. “You mean you’ve done this before?” My voice raises a decibel higher, oddly annoyed that I’m just a number. “With other innocent women?”
He glances down to meet my stern glare blistering his handsome face. “No, Carina. No other women. Just you. You’re the first, and the last.” A shadow washes over his features. “And you're far from innocent.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I bluster, wrangling with his hand to wriggle free.
He frowns. “Are you telling me you didn’t instigate any of this? That you didn’t willingly kneel before me and take my dick in that dangerous mouth of yours all those weeks ago? That you didn’t enjoy having your tight little cunt broken in by me?” The growl breaking from his throat terrifies me. “You're not innocent anymore, mylittle liar.”
I stumble in shock, only to be swung into his naked torso like a wayward magnet and secured there. My veins work faster than ever before, catching fire from his irresistible warmth. The flirtatious grin he offers is playful. It baits me to an exquisite shore of temptation where I’ll either inhale a lungful of water or tread sun-soaked sand.