I sway my head, fixing my gaze on a waving palm. “Is she one of your so-called employees too? I’ve only met men.” A zesty sigh blankets my prickled skin, welcoming a surge of wrongs to charge through my veins.
“Why did you come here?” He leans closer, infecting me with a psychotic thrill.
With adrenaline at an all-time high, my awareness returns. El Fantasma crouches at eye level with locks curling his nape, and heavy-set brows pinched. The sharpness of his nose is exquisitely formed, and the depths of dark green eyes flash with a notion of attraction. They don’t warn of danger; they flicker with something I don't understand.
I press both palms to his chest, trying to push his sinewy muscles out of my personal space. “You know why I’m here. This interrogation is pointless. I’m an ecologist. A simple woman with a boring life caught in a tropical prison. I’m held hostage by an asshole who hides from everyone because he’s a coward.” I shouldn’t be so blunt. However, the filter to my thoughts has vanished. I’m incapable of censoring the words oozing from my brain. “The storm ruined all our hard work. Bruce’s samples were washed away. He died. The man actually died, and no one buried him. I left the camp to save myself from the wildlife and bring help. To give him a proper send-off. Now that I think about it, I’ve lost my passport and, most importantly, my journal,” I ramble.
El Fantasma doesn’t speak as he rises like a rattlesnake ready to strike. “Can I trust you?”
“No,” I bite out. “I want to leave this place and never come back. I won’t stop trying to get as far away from you as possible. I long for the day I’m at home where I belong, so I can forget you exist. If that means becoming a stowaway on a departing helicopter, then so be it.”
I bite my bottom lip at my admission. A sensible answer would have been one word—yes. Except I’ve foolishly revealed my intentions and implied I’m untrustworthy.
“Who would you run back to?” He runs a hand through thick wavy hair, and it’s only then I realize he’s not hiding from me.
A thin crease nestles in his brow as he waits for my answer. I take a second to assess his stern features and hair smattered cheeks, repulsed by the character and baited by his physical appearance.
“This is ridiculous,” I murmur. “I’ll go straight to Scotland to see my family. Remember the parents whose hearts you’ve shattered. And my little sister, Emmie.” Rage siphons through the sickly desire plaguing my being.
I adjust my inner compass to hang off hatred and hide from the absurdity of attraction. Then, one by one, he unpeels the gloves guarding his scars, tossing them to the padded cushion beneath me. In a hasty swoop, a bare hand clamps around my neck, ordering my gaze upward.
“Who do you love most in this world?” Our gazes clash. His curiosity warring with my disgust.
As much as I demand freedom, one impulsive move and he could squeeze the breath right out of me. My racing pulse skids at the sharp contact. The pressure weakens, lessening his initial harshness. I’m no fool. This is his territory. I’m disposable.
“My sister. She’s innocent, beautiful, and smart. I miss her.”
His breath warms my cheek. “Why would you put her life at risk to spy on Dante Valez?”
“Who the hell is Dante Valez? Why aren’t you listening to me?” The ball in my throat moves against his palm. “I’m not spying on anyone. You’ve trapped me here. You’re the one making me stay in this prison.”
“Tell me more about el Fantasma.”
My toes curl when his lips hover too close for comfort. I lengthen my neck in a reckless gesture, inching a fraction into him, purely out of defiance. He tips away, licking his lips like he wants to taste me. My morals beseech me to behave, and a surge of adrenaline flips my belly. “I’ll tell you what I know about him. He’s the most vile and arrogant man ever to walk this Earth.” I don’t say the words with bitterness. They dance off my tongue in a simple admission of truth. “He expects obedience and demands respect. Yet he hasn’t earned my compliance, even though—” His lips quirk, baring bright white teeth in warning. “Even though my hatred competes with fascination. I despise the man and crave his hands all over me.”
His throaty grunt burrows under my skin, blitzing every cell with a greedy, forbidden longing. I watch his nostrils flare, and his lips part like I’ve caught him off guard. That makes two of us. He’s stolen my existence, and now he’s prizing out my innermost fantasies.
“Omigod, why do I keep saying that?” I whisper, succumbing to the flames rising to my eyes.
“Because it’s the truth.” His voice is softer now, not welcoming but not accusing either. “Close your eyes, beija flor.”
“No.” I gasp, chilled by his unknown intentions.
“Are you scared of me?”
“Yes.” Damn him. I should’ve said no. I have no control over my answers. What should remain as private thoughts are dropping onto his lap like falling coconuts from the highest palm tree.
“You should be.” The hand cradling my jawline guides my body to standing. “Inside.” Held prisoner in a single movement, I tip into him only for support as my legs betray me. “Walk.”
Together we move indoors. Me stepping reluctantly as he ushers me by the neck. Once inside, he lets go and slides the door shut.
I take that wisp of distraction to bolt, darting to the exit with quaking knees. Before I reach the door, hands circle my waist, and I’m dragged backward. He effortlessly pivots me one-hundred-and-eighty-degrees. Our eyes lock in a silent war. “So, you hate me?” His left brow drifts higher.
“Yes.” My hands tremble, although I force myself to meet his haunting stare. “I hate you so much, and if at all possible, I detest you even more, knowing you’ve spiked my drink and stolen my damn privacy.”
El Fantasma glues his narrowed gaze to the rampant goosebumps showering my skin. Hungry eyes eat up the sight of my naked flesh. This man has had the upper hand since I met him, and tonight is no different. Without a protective layer of material, he can observe everything. Every nervous tremor and rush of uncertain prickles. I’m exposed to his every glance and whim.
“And even though you hate me, you wish for my hands to own you?” His tongue skates between his lips, and I swear he shivers.
