Page 29 of Fall
Teams of animals buzz and chirp. The moist smell of natural life carries on the zephyr. I gaze to the horizon and patch up the internal cuts sliced from his harshness, then reposition my backbone for the strength needed to walk away with my head held high.
I’m going home to my sister Emmie where I’ll be safe. The staff at the lab will welcome me back with open arms, and I’ll restart my research, working long hours to block out the missing element. I’ll slot into an existence where I once belonged, misshapen like a broken jigsaw piece that will never be complete. But I’ll leave before I fall in love with him. Before it’s too late.
My bare soles pad over the bronze boards and follow the flow of a bowed terrace.
Dante lifts his head when he senses my quiet approach. He wears a huffy scowl that softens the closer I get. “My T-shirt looks good on you.” All the anger and violence has simmered, so the bold shade of green in his eyes spark with life.
I give him a death stare and twist the hem into a knot at my belly button, fitting it snugly around my waist. “Better than a slave’s shirt.”
He cocks an eyebrow and almost smirks. “An employee’s uniform.”
“I’m sure your staff would much rather wear a T-shirt.”
“I’ll be sure to ask their opinion the next time I email out a staff engagement survey.” His face is deadpan, and he rises from seated to drag a chair out from under the table. I hesitate, ruffling my curls as a distraction to our fizzing attraction. I’m nervous around him now, like a shy schoolgirl with a crush on her rogue science teacher.
Quickly gathering courage, I stroll onto an elevated platform that extends in a fenceless square overhanging willowy trees. If ever there was an opportunity to effortlessly kill me, it would be right now. In a snap of temper, he could push me over the edge and be done with our fiery rivalry. It feels like I’m walking on a cloud, high above the natural world. Unreal and extremely fitting for the man eyeing me with suspicion.
“Do you not like heights?” he asks. When I sit, he does the same. There’s an edginess about his movements as if he’s forcing pleasantries or fighting the impulse to pounce on me.
I shrug. “I don’t mind them. It's surreal sitting way up here. How did you build such an amazing treehouse? I’ve never seen anything like it.”
He rests his elbows on the table, steeples his fingers and looks over the tips. “Money,” he replies with one blunt word.
Freshly chopped pineapple chunks, vibrant orange segments, and mango moons are jumbled in two bowls. Just as I wonder when he prepared breakfast, he speaks again. “The kitchen staff boxed up the fruit and sent it with your clothes. Please, have something to eat.”
It’s difficult to focus when his chest remains on display and disorderly locks of hair drape over his forehead. “That was thoughtful of them.” My forced smile receives a nod.
He lifts the French press and pours black coffee into an adjacent mug. “I have business to take care of later this afternoon. After you eat, I’ll escort you to the Oasis where you’ll stay with Salvador for the rest of the day. Then I’ll bring you back here myself in the evening.” His tone freezes over. “You’ll stay with me for tonight, and in the morning, my personal pilot will transport you to Brasilia and ensure you board the chartered jet. Understood?”
I pretend to act unaffected by his intentional coolness. “You don’t have to be so formal, Dante.” The coffee warms my lips, slowly sliding down my throat to heat my knotted stomach. Nothing about this situation is comfortable. “We were fucking a few hours ago. I’m going home, not turning into your mortal enemy.”
“We fucked.” He shrugs, but his pupils look as though they just breathed. “And now we don’t need to anymore. I don’t want any blurred lines.”
“Interesting.” My gaze dawdles on his bare hands. Those aggressive controlling hands that have owned me from the first night he carried me out of the jungle. “I’m looking forward to stepping on friendlier territory. To be with people I can hug and people I can really trust.”
He elevates his arm like a mechanical robot, bringing the mug to his mouth. “Good,” he replies before tasting the coffee. “And for the record, you can always trust me. No questions about it.”
I blink at his statement. “So, you wouldn’t throw me out of a helicopter again?”
He licks his lips before answering. “You landed on a safe platform. The fall wouldn’t have broken a fingernail, let alone kill you. And to answer your question, yes. I would do it again if your life was in danger.”
Gathering a wooden fork, I stab into the bowl and lift a morsel of pineapple wedged on the prongs. I’d rather not eat it, but I need something to do other than look at him. “Right.” I study its lemon appearance. “And you know you can trust me––without question.” Our gazes unite. “It’s such a shame I’ll never talk about the guy I met. I guess over time all of this will fade.” The sharp zing intensifies as I bite down. “I’ll forget all about you,” I say nonchalantly around the mouthful.
He stiffens. “That’s for the best.”
I’m purposely taunting him. Desperately hoping to squeeze out a reaction that shows me this isn’t easy for him either.
“Yes,” I agree, ignoring the acidic waves in my belly as I chew. Food is the last thing I want, but the only remedy to my waning energy. “I’ll be able to put this nightmare in a box and pretend it didn’t happen. That will be true freedom.” The coffee cup drops away from his tight lips, thudding the naturally carved table when he refuses to speak. “And then I’ll bury myself in work again. The only thing that really matters, right?” I shrug as if this conversation means nothing to me. “I’ll visit a different part of the rainforest next time. Or maybe I’ll try a different rainforest entirely.”
Temper flickers behind his eyes. “Hopefully the next time you wander into the wilderness, you’ll be better prepared.”
My brows hitch. “Prepared to meet someone like you? I doubt there are many madmen dotted about the Amazon with houses in the heavens and eyes like...”Precious gems.My thighs clench, stopping myself from describing his features with adoration.
“Your sister will be happy.” Dante lifts the corners of his lips to a faint smile.
My mind spins with a multitude of questions. How old was his sister when she was killed? Where were their parents? Rather than hit him with an interrogation, I look right at him. Now isn’t the right time. Not when we’re so close to the edge in more ways than one.
His shoulders aren’t tipped with frost anymore and peridot eyes glitter a shade deeper than evil. They project a flare of bitter sorrow, swirled with weighted regret. I’m having breakfast with Dante Valez. The man who believes waving goodbye is the only option. I guess he’s right. I’m not equipped to handle torture or possible gunfire––whatever he has planned for the guy he’s taken hostage. My life was protected by a cloak of mundane, and perhaps that’s how it should be.
