Page 31 of Hostile Bond
I didn't need a formidable father to fill in the blank parts of my heritage––not when I had settled into a natural rhythm with a man I’ve secretly obsessed over my whole life.
My wandering soul finally felt at home. I’ve never, not even once in my teenage years or early twenties, been so captivated by a male. Not since I’d met a young boy who offered adult promises and swore protection.
But now—now I’m spiraling out-of-control in those very emotions.
I feel played. Scared I’ve been too gullible. Terrified, I let a man peel back the protective layers around my heart when he didn’t really want the love inside. After all, he’d warned me from the very start that he’d get bored, eventually.
I’d spent an hour or so neck deep in the jacuzzi tub at the far side of the room, mulling over the whirlwind weeks spent with André. Exhausted body parts ached, yet that wasn't what troubled me. No, it’s the apprehension of a new loneliness creeping back into my heart like he’d hit me with a poisonous dart.
The ivory walls closing in around me match the crisp, rich bed linen and white gauzy curtains that billow at the opening to an extended balcony where the fading sun sunk into the horizon like a golden coin slotting into nature's money box. Heavy wooden furnishings cast eerie shadows, creating dark edges in a moonlit room designed for supreme comfort. Despite the luxury, I couldn’t help wondering if it’s a screen to hide the truth of the Souza brothers’ calculated plans.
Beyond the floor length window, I stare out at the velvety indigo night sky where a new moon phase blends with familiar darkness. The same sky I’d looked upon in Ireland while enduring bitter cold nights and understated accommodations. None of it comparable to this substantial slice of paradise.
Eventually, I dragged myself out of the tepid water, throwing on a silk gown before sitting on the padded bench seat at the foot of the bed.
I’m alone, confused, and worried I’ve lost my independence—and myself. On the Sin Pretty, André had given me hope for a happily ever after with him, embellished it with the possibility of having our own little family in the future, and then strategically placed himself at the helm of Sapori’s organization. Was it a deliberate move in the Souza cartel expansion master plan? Or did he really do it for me?
The lifelong haze of nonexistence haunts me all over again. It wasn’t a surprise he murdered Frankie. I knew it would happen, except now that it has, I can’t escape this niggling suspicion that André had plotted my sperm donor’s destruction long before he saidI do.
How well do I really know my husband?
A part of me hopes his recent declaration of love was sincere—if a playboy of his superior caliber and callous breeding could harbor such a truehearted emotion.
Flashes of our time together last night come and go. The force of his dominating hips plays on repeat, teamed with the slippery, hot hunger of a whiskered mouth, and the smoky hoarseness to a voice that ordered filthy commands. His mastery never fails to electrify my bloodstream and set fire to my skin. Resisting my godly husband is futile. He will forever be my weakness.
And now, perched here like a forgotten wife, I’m furious at how my desperate heart doubts the evolution of our marriage. I want it to be real, because I’m tethered to an irresistible drug lord who thrills me with his darkness. And that realization spikes me with fear.
Despite the love I have for him, I have to ask myself if I believe the time we had shared was a clever sham. Would he eventually desert me on this island with no way to get off it? After all, I’m sitting here on my own and he’s with his brothers talking business––celebrating a Souza victory over Sicilian shores.
Foolishness rolls through my veins like scalding embers. I palm my splitting heart and feel the ashes of my fragile trust twirl around my love for a notorious gangster.
I had surrendered all that I am and all that I desired—to André Souza. And now he’s collected all of those fragile pieces in his powerful hands and crushed them to dust with a hunger for power.
I won’t spend my days trapped on an island as a hapless female without a voice, while he disappears to rule over a widespread kingdom. I comb my damp hair and untangle the air-dried strands with frustrated fingers, considering my next move as a cunning female in a man’s world.
There’s no denying his attraction to me—that’s the one thing we both have in common. Neither of us can keep our hands off each other. But will it last now he’s secured his position on the leaderboard?
After taking a deep breath, I rise from the bench wearing an invisible crown of courage entwined with blind faith, pad to the doorway, and stroll onto the landing, tugging the belt of my robe tighter around my waist.
It’s time to confront my triumphant husband and figure out if this crazy, heart-pounding spell we’re under is real love or just dark, fleeting lust.
There’s a ghostly stillness in the villa. An unnerving calmness whispers to the high ceilings, exposed wooden beams, and far-reaching skylights. Ventilated cool air licks the bare skin on my legs. Several closed doors are dotted along the dimly lit corridor, where intermittent shell-like wall sconces offer a serene luster.
Shadows move with me as I saunter toward the mouth of the descending staircase, thinking of the best way to approach him while he’s surrounded by his brothers. But when I place my fingers on the balustrade, a sinister presence sucks all the oxygen from the atmosphere.
Tomás Souza.
His eyes are fixed on the glowing cell phone in his hand as he climbs the steps like a predator. I freeze, my bare feet stuck to the dark grained timber step.
As if sensing danger, his lashes flick up and the secretive smile on his face vanishes to leave me doubting if the kingpin of Colombia was capable of such an act.
Our eyes lock. His irises darker than midnight and my pupils cautiously widen. A shiver of fear runs the length of my spine as his head cocks to the side, his silent assessment unreadable.
“Sinéad.” He nods after a stuttering heartbeat and continues, his smart dress shoes clipping the solid stairs as he closes the distance between us.
Once he’s at the top with me, he takes a confident stride in the opposite direction, moving toward his suite.
“Are you looking for Dré?” he asks, his sonorous collected voice slipping back over his shoulder.
