We land in the middle of nowhere two hours later. The airstrip, if you can call it that, isn’t even asphalted, but a thin strip of dirt running parallel to a river. The trees around it have been cut, but weeds and flowers have found their way back.
The landing itself is a little bumpy and fast, but that’s understandable once I’m out of the plane. The length of the makeshift runway is rather short.
“Welcome to my corner of the world,” Isidoro says with a huge smile, accepting a dark, lacy umbrella from one of the crew. “I hope you don’t mind a short trek.”
Liliya hands us each a bottle of water, then climbs back up into the jet and pulls the stairs.
“Are they not staying?” I ask, watching the plane maneuver itself into position for take-off.
“Oh, no. It would be a dead giveaway if I had a plane parked in my backyard.” Isidoro waves me off and starts walking. “We keep it elsewhere. But don’t worry—if you wanted to go somewhere, it only takes them twenty minutes to get here.”
I take a second look around. There’s literally nothing but jungle, which is a far cry from the fancy mansion in a fancy neighborhood of a fancy city that I expected. Isidorois someone you’d encounter at one of those high-society galas, and people like these like to show off their status in every way possible. So why the fuck does he live in the jungle?
“Ah. Surprised, little kitten?” the man in question teases, aiming a flirtatious smile my way. “Did my taste not match your expectations?”
That’s one way to put it. “No, just…”
“Fear not. I might like to be low-key on the surface, but on the inside…”
What’s that supposed to mean? I give him a once-over. He’s plenty flashy if you ask me. With that burgundy hair and copper accents in it, there is no low-key in sight. I notice one other thing as well—despite the heat and sun beating down on us, there is not a single drop of sweat on his face. His clothes are pristine as well, even though he must be boiling under them.
I wonder whether it’s rude of me to ask about it as we enter the cover of trees. Insects buzz by us and the humidity skyrockets. Next to me, Niko is breathing hard and sweating buckets, he too not used to the scorch. I hope wherever Isidoro is leading us has an air-conditioner.
After about ten minutes, I spot a small wooden cabin by a wall of tall cliffs. Don’t tell me that’s where he lives… He seems eccentric enough for that to be the case, but I mean, he flew us in on a fucking private jet. It doesn’t add up.
“We are almost there, my dear guests,” he announces, heading straight for the cabin.
Okay, then. I guess I was wrong.
I really don’t know what to expect, but it’s certainly not what awaits us inside—an empty hallway, leading to mostly empty rooms, where the only thing that remains isold, rotten furniture. Is this some kind of a joke? I pause by a bed, the mattress of which sports a rip from one end to the other. Fear stabs my heart. Or… is this a trap?
I act on impulse. I don’t even know where it comes from, my brain doesn’t have time to comprehend it. Balling my hands into fists, I push Niko behind me and take on a defensive stance, swinging at Isidoro’s back.
He dodges as easily as if he could see my punch coming.
His initial reaction when he turns around is confusion, I’m pretty sure. His perfectly thin eyebrows slant down, and he looks between me and Niko. I tense up. I’m shit at it, but I’m not gonna go down without a fight.
Flicking a strand of his luscious hair that’s fallen over his cheek, Isidoro cracks up. “Oh my! Your Thomas is so fierce, Niko. Small, but truly fierce. You’ve picked well.”
Behind me, I hear Niko let out a huff of laughter. Why is he laughing when we might have been led into a trap?
“What’s so funny? What if it’s a tra—”
“This way, please,” Isidoro says, pressing something on the wall by the doorframe. The floor in front of him opens up with a creak, and a dimly lit passageway appears. “My home is through here, on the other side of the cliffs.”
Some of the tension deflates inside me as Niko’s big hand comes to rest at the low of my back. “Fuck, Tommy. You were so hot just now trying to protect me,” he whispers in a low, sultry voice.
I spin on my heel, jutting my lower lip out and planting my hands on my hips. “Not funny!”
“I know.” He kisses my forehead. “I should’ve warned you—with Isidoro, nothing is what it seems. Usually. He’s a bit of a weirdo like this.”
Gee, thanks for the heads-up. I mean, I figured as much, but people with private jets don’t tend to live in the jungle. Unless… Does heownthe fucking jungle? Is that even possible?
As I ponder the likelihood of that, and the nightmare of bureaucracy it must be, we follow the gloomy tunnel to its other end. The bright sun blinds me as we emerge, so I place my hands over my eyes until they adjust. Once the light is no longer my enemy, I survey the clearing we’re in.
Holy shit. Wow. This is… next level. I’ve never seen anything like it.
A crystal-clear river gurgles on our left, passing by a neatly maintained flower garden in full bloom. The sweet scent of various plants mingles together with the smell of soil and grass, creating a pleasant, but not overwhelming aroma that clings to everything nearby. A stone path begins at the lip of the tunnel where we are standing, weaving through the flower garden, then passing over the river via a small bridge, until it arrives at the base of tall ruins.
