"And if they can't adapt?" I ask.
"Then they die," he says as his eyes meet mine, something sad and knowing in them.
We stay much longer than we need to as Frankie finds more things to show me. It feels like he is trying to find more reasons to delay our return. He buys me an ice cream at a small roadside stand and insists we stop for gas even though the tank is nearly full. He even takes a "shortcut" that adds twenty minutes to our drive.
"You don't want to go back," I say finally, watching his profile as he drives. It's not a question.
"It doesn't matter what I want. I have an obligation," he says as his jaw tightens.
"It matters to me."
"Don't," he says as he glances at me, then back at the road.
"Don't what?"
"Don't make this harder than it already is." His voice is tight. "What happened last night…it shouldn't have happened that way."
"But it did," I say, anger flaring hot in my chest. "You can't just pretend it didn't."
"I'm not pretending anything, Datura," he says, the nickname sending a shiver down my spine despite my anger. "And I won’t say I regret it because I don’t and I never will…but you will, I promise you that. The wedding…."
His voice trails off and the reminder hits me like a slap to my face. One week. In seven days I will belong to a stranger. Seven days until whatever this is between Frankie and me becomes impossible.
"And then what?" I ask, my voice sounding smaller than I intend. "You just go back to being my guard? Watching me with my husband?"
He half-scoffs, half-laughs as his hands tighten on the wheel again, but he doesn't answer. I turn back to the window and watch everything outside blur past my window…beautiful, harsh and unforgiving. Just like the reality waiting for us back at the estate.
Chapter Eighteen
Liana
The estate gates swing open, and my stomach drops at the sight of three black SUVs parked in the circular driveway. What is with these people and their SUVs? They are sleek and expensive but they sure do look menacing, parked against the large mansion. Guards I've never seen before stand at attention near the entrance, their postures rigid and faces blank. Beside me, Frankie stiffens immediately. The man who just spent the last hour pointing out desert plants and prolonging our drive disappears in an instant. His shoulders are stiff and rigid, his jaw clenched tight, and the softness in his eyes hardens to something cold and lethal. Whatever brief escape we had is clearly over. Reality comes crashing back, leaving me feeling empty.
He pulls the car around to the side entrance I’ve never been to, away from the main doors and kills the engine. He doesn't move to get out though. His hands rest on the steering wheel as we both just sit in silence. Something is wrong.
"Go straight to your room," he orders like I’m a servant.It’s like he’s a different person. "Do not come out until I come get you. Do you understand me?"
I stare at his profile, searching for any trace of the man who held me last night, who whispered things against my skin that made me blush and burn. But he's gone, and in his place is this stone-faced stranger I don’t recognize.
"Who are they?" I ask instead of agreeing to his demands. I deserve to know what’s going on.
"Liana," he says with a growl that has my insides melting. How can he do this to me even when he sounds angry? My name is a warning on his lips and yet, my body flushes with desire. "For once in your life, do as you're told."
‘Rude.’
He gets out without waiting for my answer, slamming the door hard enough to make me flinch. I watch him walk away, contemplating my next move. I never agreed to do as I was told. He’s not my boss anyway. I count to thirty after he disappears through the side door before I grab my bag and follow.
The house feels all wrong today. I hear too many low voices speaking a language I don’t fully understand. I slip in through the kitchen as quietly as I can. Thankfully, it’s empty with not even Pita in sight. My heart’s still pounding, though, because I can hear them. There are loud voices signaling a group of men in the foyer. Someone barks out an order and his voice is rough and dominating like he’s used to getting what it wants.
I drop my bag lightly and move fast down the hallway, keeping myself hidden in the shadows. When I peek around the corner, it’s worse than I thought. There are six, maybe seven men, all in dark suits, taking up way too much space in the small room. I can smell the expensive cologne and testosterone from here. I recognize a few faces I’ve seen Frankie speaking with before noticing him at the center of all of it. He’s standing there looking tense and on edge, facing an older guywho oozes danger. Silver streaks his hair but he doesn’t look much older than Uncle maybe. He is good looking for his age, that I can see, and he carries himself with poise and grace. This guy is important, that much is clear. He’s important, pissed off, and currently making himself at home in what is supposed to be my house. My eyes widen and my stomach drops.
‘Is this Rio? Please don’t let it be him.’
I knew he was older but I didn’t think he was uncle’s age. I watch him as he speaks to Frankie. He’s not ugly, not even a little, but he is old. Much older than I would like my husband to be. At this rate I’ll be changing his diapers along with our children’s.
Frankie responds, his face a blank mask. Is this why he wanted me to go to my room? Was he saving me from seeing who I am supposed to marry so that I might have a little longer to live in innocent bliss? I can't understand most of what they are saying, but I catch my name mentioned several times. The older man's voice rises, and though I don't know the words, the tone is unmistakable. It’s demanding.
Frankie doesn't back down from him like I would expect though. He stands his ground, responding with clipped sentences that make the older man's face darken. I press myself closer to the wall I'm hiding behind, straining to understand.
