Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 96167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
“Your proposal.”
“Were you actually considering it?”
He continued to glare, but now that she looked closer, there was something missing in it. The hard lines of his jaw, dark furrow of his brow, flat line of his lips—it was all there to appropriately communicate his displeasure. Deep behind his inky eyes, though, she didn’t see the heat or the passion she’d expect in an outraged man.
Maybe she was just imagining it. “Tell me what you want, what to say. If you’ll reconsider, I’ll take back whatever I said and—”
“See, you were doing so good there. You were respectful of our business and made suggestions for improvement. You initiated trust by sharing your weakest moments with Van Quiso. Then you blew it with your self-righteous, preachy judgment. If I wanted a homily on moral values, I’d visit my mother.”
Shit. Fuck. Okay, she could recover from this. “What do you want?”
He leaned in, and the potency of his cologne chased away the perfume of orange blossoms. “I want you.”
“YOU WANT ME?” Camila widened her eyes, her insides shriveling from throat to gut.
“You,” Nico mouthed, his face a breath away. “In my bed, riding my dick, and wearing my collar.” He flicked the lock at her throat.
A vise gripped her chest, squeezing her air. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think past the words burning through her heart.
“In return, we’ll pull out of the slave trade.” He sniffed. “We’ll stop capturing women in your hometown. We’ll stop enslaving humans altogether.”
Her muscles were so locked up she couldn’t move, but her head shifted, seeking out Matias on the other side of the lemon grove. His attention was on her, his ass still seated on that bench.
“Eyes on me.” Nico’s bark jerked her focus back.
His straight nose, even breaths, and dark gaze betrayed nothing. His features were so empty, in fact, she decided he was probably a very good liar. That sucked considering every answer she needed was concealed behind those eyes.
She lowered her head, trying to reason through his offer. “I become your willing slave and you end the slavery of all others. That’s what you’re proposing?”
“Yes.”
“If you wanted me, you could just take me, with or without a deal.”
“That’s not how this works.”
Because of Matias? Or something else? The proposal was irrational. He knew Matias had claimed her. Why would he destroy their friendship or risk Matias’ loyalty? Her mind whirled to decrypt the undercurrents. There was more to this. Something he wasn’t saying.
“I want Matias in this conversation.” She met his eyes.
“No.” He bent closer, hands dangling between his spread knees and lips inches away. “This is between you and me.”
“Does he know you’re making this offer?”
His head turned, and she followed his line of sight across the grove. Matias stared back at her for an endless moment and looked away.
Her heart sank. He knew. He knew, and he was letting this play out.
Because he chose his job over her.
“Decide, Camila.” Nico’s rhythmic accent grated across her skin. “The offer’s about to expire.”
She wanted to kill him. Strip his golden skin right off his face and smother him with it. But she couldn’t.
After two weeks of residence in the cartel’s headquarters, she’d watched and learned and come to a glaring realization that attempting to murder the capo would result in an epic failure for two reasons. One, he was never without guards. Even now, she knew Matias was armed and would protect his boss with his life. Two, Nico would be replaced, likely with Matias or someone else in the inner circle. Someone who would continue the slave trade.
Nico’s offer was her best choice. Not that she could trust him to follow through on his end of the deal, but it would put her in his bed and potentially in his heart. It would give her an advantage, the ability to persuade him, an in, that she didn’t have with Matias.
But there was one very muscular, dark, and deadly problem.
Fire trickled behind her eyes and burned through her sinuses. “What about Matias?”
“Disclaim him. Choose your crusade over the man who has caused you so much torment. Is the decision really that hard?”
The lump that was lodged in her throat burned hotter. “He’ll kill you.”
“Do you honestly believe he cares more about you than he does about me?” He arched a brow.
Logic and reasoning said no. Matias sat his fucking ass on the other side of the grove knowing what Nico would offer.
She’d put herself here with the very real possibility of death. To end slavery. Now she had what she’d come for—the cartel capo, the top fucking guy, telling her she could stop their human trafficking with her surrender. How could she not do this?
Something didn’t feel right. Deep in her gut was a discomfiting suspicion that she was being set up. And crowding that suspicion was her stupid sentimentality. Did she care more about saving slaves than she did about Matias? Than the boy she grew up with? Than the man who rebuilt her citrus grove?