The wind picked up my hair.
It was paradise.
But it would also seem that it was a prison.
“The view is better from the top floor,” a voice said behind me. I turned to see Mystery Man—the guy who called himself ‘Al,’ of all things—walking toward me with an admittedly refreshing-looking glass of sparkling water with fruit at the bottom.
I took it from him, and his gaze made my heart do that flip-flop thing again, because he was at once utterly infuriating and yet I was compelled to feel attracted to him, protected by him.
“I take it we’re the only ones here,” I said bitterly.
He held his own drink—no fruit—and tapped the glass, squinting into the bright sun. “I’m sorry about the helicopter ride,” he said, ignoring my question.
I drank the drink, which was just water, and spun around to look out over the ocean. This guy was maddening as hell.
I turned back to face him. “What the hell are we doing here? What are youdoing? What... what the hellis going on?”
He continued to stare out at the ocean, squinting, his face a terrible scowl. I could see that he was calculating something, and I decided to keep my mouth shut until he spoke. Sure, he was pissing me off, and I wanted to slap him, but I knew it was the sort of battle I wouldn’t win.
We stood there on the balcony, warm sun heating my shoulders, lovely breezes picking up my hair. He suddenly sucked in his breath and jerked his head toward the staircase to the top of the house. “Come upstairs. I’ll show you where you will sleep.”
I folded my arms and gave out a shriek. It was a spoiled-brat move, but what did I have to lose. “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me... you tell me... at least tell me what your fucking name is!”
His hand was at my jaw faster than I could blink, but only to rub his thumb sensually over my lower lip. “Alaric,” he said quietly. “And I want you to stop using such bad language, Natalia.”
I narrowed my eyes, but it was a poor act to cover up that I was melting inside and welling up with excitement right into another pair of expensive underwear.
“Come up and see the view. And I will tell you some of what you need to know.”
Chapter Thirteen
Alaric
I watched her as she paced the windows on the top floor of the house on Orel Island. In every direction but one, the sea yawned away to nothing; only to the southeast could one faintly make out the nearest island—a fishing village—five miles away by sea. The view was spectacular, and I could see that it pleased her. Her face was flushed, her eyes bright. Seeing her pleased gave me a particular kind of pleasure unlike any I’d ever experienced before.
She was trying not to show it, though, and I admired the defiant attitude. The apple, after all, never falls far from the tree. I hadn’t known her mother, but one couldn’t expect Kyril’s daughter to just give in, not even when no other choice remained for her.
