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)
He needed her to love him the same way he loved her.
“This isn’t a game.” He stepped toward her until a sliver of space separated them and lifted her chin with a knuckle. “I didn’t stage the meeting with Nico because I wanted to know what choice you would make. I did it so that you would know.”
She studied his face, her pupils dilating with a thousand seeking thoughts. She could think whatever she wanted as long as she was looking at him, seeing him.
Gripping his wrist, she pulled his hand away from her chin, but she didn’t let go. Her fingers slid over his, absently caressing his knuckles as she stared at him.
“For the record”—Nico flicked ash from his cigarette, eyes narrowed on her—“I meant everything I said in the gazebo, except the part about being in my bed. If I touched you, Matias would rip me from limb to limb.”
“True, but I wouldn’t enjoy it.” Matias smirked.
“Me importa un culo.” Nico glanced behind him. “I’m gonna head back to the house. Guards will be stationed outside of the wall.”
Then he strolled away, puffing on his cigarette. When he vanished from view, Camila ambled in the opposite direction, fingers tucked in the back pockets of her jeans and her steps soft and aimless. Matias trailed behind her, keeping a few feet between them to give her space.
She stopped at a small patch of grass between two lemon trees, kicked off her sandals, and lay down on her back, just as she’d always done as a child, with her gaze on the overhang of leafy limbs.
“Why do you need a decoy?” She glanced at him and looked back at the tree cover.
He sat beside her and removed his boots and socks, his chest tightening with all the things he needed to tell her.
“I’ll start at the beginning.” He lay on the lawn, his shoulder brushing hers, the ground soft and cool against his back.
“I’d really appreciate that.” She reached for his hand and laced their fingers in the swath of grass between them.
“My mother was Hector Restrepo’s mistress.”
She kept her gaze skyward, her brows pulling together. “When did you find out?”
“The day the cartel came for me.” He closed his eyes against the memory—the fear and confusion, the unholy shock of it all. “She fled to the States when she became pregnant with me. Didn’t want me to be raised among criminals. But Hector knew I was his. And he knew how to find her.”
“I assume her name wasn’t really Maria and she didn’t die in a car accident?”
“It was Natalia.” He opened his eyes and pulled Camila’s hand to rest on his chest, where he hurt the most. “Hector captured her, held her somewhere in Texas until I was born, then had her killed.”
Her breath hitched, and she rolled toward him, aligning her body along the length of his, with her cheek on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”
He wrapped an arm around her back, the other bent beneath his head, and grounded himself in her. She was the honeyed scent of orange blossoms, the light that shone through the trees, the very air he breathed. Hell knew he didn’t fucking deserve her.
“To this day,” he said, “I don’t know if Hector thought I was unworthy to be a capo’s son, if he felt guilty for killing my mother, or if he was trying to protect me, but for whatever reason, he kept my existence a secret and gave me to Andres to raise.”
“Andres was your mother’s brother, right? Or was that a lie, too?”
“He wasn’t my uncle or any blood relation. He was just a guy, trafficking drugs for Hector.” He paused, letting that settle in with the heave of her breaths.
It took him several years to accept that the man who’d reared him had been nothing more than a lackey doing a job. While Andres had effectively filled the role of disciplinarian, Matias had been deprived of a mother and all the nurturing softness and affection that came with that. But he’d had Camila.
“Did my parents know?” she breathed against his neck.
“Yes, they knew all of it.” With his arm around her back, he held her tighter. “Camila…”
She lifted her head at the grimness in his tone.
“Your parents worked for Hector. With Andres’ help, they used the citrus grove as a cover for their narcotics trade.”
“No.” A vehement whisper. “That’s not possible. I would’ve noticed something.” She rose up on her elbow, eyes wide and glistening. “We both would’ve known. No way that was happening under our noses without us stumbling on—” She gasped. “Did you know?”
“I didn’t learn any of this until after I left. They used the shack in the woods to store shipments.”
“The cannibal shack?” Her hand flew to her mouth. “But it was abandoned.”
“Not always.”