Page 58 of Factory Controller

“Oh my.” She chuckles and tosses her head back to free an errant strand of hair from her eyes. “Don’t forget the paramilitary groups and the human traffickers. It sounds pretty daunting on the outside, but I feel like it’s the right path. What do you think?”

I heave a heavy sigh. “I think that, for all the harm Isabella did, she also did some good, and now that her charity has shut down, there’s nobody left to help.”

“Are you suggesting we go and try to make a difference?” Heather’s brows climb high on her face. “I do have some savings. It’s money, but not enough. Not enough to make a difference. Maybe we could start a GoFundMe—”

“Heather,” I say softly. “Money is no object, or at least it won’t be for a while.”

“What are you saying about now?”

“The criminal courts refused to give me justice against the drunk driver who killed my parents. The civil courts, however, awarded me a ten-million-dollar settlement. That can go a long way toward improving things in the lives of the indigenous people.”

“So, you’re proposing we go back to South America, for charity?”

“No,” I say, shaking my head firmly. “I want you to come to South America with me because I love you.”

Heather reacts as if she’s been shot. Her eyes snap open, and her fingers splay wide on the table as if she’s holding on.

“What did you just say to me?” she asks in a breaking voice.

“I said, I love you.” I figure she just wants me to repeat the important part. “I love you, Heather Duncan. I want to be with you for the rest of my life, wherever we wind up living.”

“I love you, too,” Heather says, to my immense relief and joy. We share a smile and entwine fingers across the table.

I stand up and help Heather to her feet. Without a word, I lead her back to our suite where the crisp, white sheets await.

Heather and I can’t keep our hands off each other on the elevator ride to our floor. This is true even when other guests get on board. My mouth is on Heather’s neck, her leg wraps around the back of my legs, and we grind together as she moans loudly. We’re not putting on a show, but we also can’t bring ourselves to stop.

“Hey,” says a snide, older gentlemen. “Are you going to spend the night in the elevator? We’ve reached the penthouse. Isn’t this your floor, stud?”

Heather and I giggle like schoolchildren as we flee, hand in hand, from the elevator car and rush down the hallway toward our room.

There’s been so much anticipation for this moment, that, when it arrives, it’s almost anti-climactic. The crisp, white sheets are there. The air conditioning isn’t cranked. We don’t need to. We need heat. It’s cold outside. But we do have every modern convenience at our fingertips and an incredible luxury, the promise of a hot shower afterward.

All that, and yet it’s not quite as passionate as our lovemaking in the rainforest had been. We lay there afterward, snuggled in each other’s arms. Content, but maybe a bit disappointed that our night of carnality wasn’t the be-all and end-all it was cracked up to be.

“What are you thinking?” Heather asks.

“Nothing much.”

“You’re not thinking it was better in the rainforest?” she asks. “Because that’s what I’m thinking.”

“Maybe…”

“I think it means that’s where we belong, Trent.”

“What are you saying?”

“That I’ll come with you down to Brazil. We’ll try and fill the void left behind by Isabella’s despicable charity and do better.”

I crush her lips with a deep kiss. “Thank you. You’ve made me a very happy man, Heather Duncan.”

I feel her lips curve in a smile.

“Not only that, you’ve helped me feel hope for the future, for the first time in what feels like forever,” I confess. “I love you.”

I kiss her tenderly, then passionately, and we set about messing up those not so crisp white sheets one more time.

HEATHER

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