Page 79 of Reign of a Billionaire
“What do you mean?”
“There isn’t a single romance novel to be found.”
My brows furrowed. “There is a whole section with Agatha Christie novels,” I pointed out.
“Yeah, I know.”Someonehad made themselves comfortable. “But I wasn’t talking about murder mysteries, was I?”
My molars clenched. There was nothing like going from one extreme to another.
“Why do you want to go back to Perez?” I said instead, focusing on the answers I needed from her.
“None of your business.”
“I’m trying to help you.” She gasped as though insulted and turned her head to stare at the fireplace. “Whatever you’re trying to do, you need resources.”
She glared up at me like a lioness ready to pounce for daring to point out the obvious. I bared my teeth, the sadistic part of me hoping she would. I was so up for a challenge.
“I don’t need anything or anyone. If you want to help, release me and take me back to Brazil.”
“No can do.” Her eyes filled with fire. Some would say we were headed for a disaster. I’d argue whatever this was could be an ingredient for something more. “Unless you know how to pilot a plane or navigate a boat.”
Her shoulders sagged for only a second before optimism filled her features. “I’m sure I can figure it out if you provide me with an operating manual.”
I clenched my fists. Jesus, the woman was willing to kill herself to get back to Brazil. I pinched the bridge of my nose. It was clear she wouldn’t be sharing anything. I could attempt torture, but hurting girls didn’t sit well with me. I suspected this pretty little psycho wouldn’t tell me anything even if I did.
“Sure, I’ll get you the operating manuals for both,” I finally relented. “If you manage to get either of them going, you can leave.”
But first, I’d make sure to remove the ignition cables. Then we’d see how far she made it without the help she so adamantly refused.
Chapter 40
Liana
I’d been on this fucking island for a goddamned week.
And the only conclusion I’d come to was that Kingston Ashford was a pain in my ass. The only reason he’d given me the stupid operating manual was to shut me up.
It was my fault, really—I didn’t specifyhowthe machinery was delivered to me. As in, the fucker sabotaged the engines.
“Grady White top of the line, my ass,” I muttered as I shut the deck floorboard with enough force to make the boat rock.
“You seem cheerful today.” I’d recognize that smooth-as-silk voice anywhere. My limbs ached from all the climbing up and down this stupid boat and I wasn’t in the mood. Despite the winter months, the temperatures during the day were warm enough to strip down into a bathing suit—or get a sunburn—which led me to believe we had to be somewhere in the far south of Europe. The Mediterranean climate was one indication; the numerous fruit trees, olives, and shrubs of lavender were others.
I slowly straightened up and found Kingston lounging in the shade in bermuda shorts and a white T-shirt, his ink somewhat visible beneath the stretchy material. He tossed me a bottle of water, and my traitorous eyes locked on his flexing bicep.
In my distraction, I barely ducked in time for it to miss me and hit the captain’s chair.
“Drink.” I glared at him, but before I could complain, he added, “And don’t bring up the whole gentleman thing. It’s getting old.”
“You almost hit me with it,” I fumed.
“Drink,” he repeated. “I can’t have you fainting.”
I snatched the bottle off the deck, gulped down half of it, then pointed my finger at him.
“You did this on purpose,” I accused.
“Did what?” Amusement flickered in his eyes, his voice dark with humor. “You’re going to have to be a bit more specific. I do many things every day.”
