Page 32 of Hostile Bond
“Yes,” I reply with as much courage as any woman could project in this suave man's company.
He pivots to face me. His broad shoulders eclipse the lamplight, plunging his features into shadows. Glasslike eyes as black as molasses settle on the feigned nonchalance of my expression. The depth of his pensive glower swallows my returning gaze and subtly softens as if he’s trying hard to offer the stranger before him compassion.
“And you’re not happy about the takeover,” he announces rather than asks.
I grunt out my dissatisfaction and follow it up with a sharp statement. “André knows my feelings on the matter. The Souzas have played an excellent game.”
“I think we need to clear something up,” he begins, a tiny quirk flickering at the corner of his lips.
I elevate my chin, locking eyes in preparation for his discourse. “Oh, yeah?”
My voice sounds so small in his presence, the awareness of it making my arms fold across my chest in defense.
The small screen curled within his manly fingers glows again, instantly tugging his attention down, and earning a wicked sexual smile that throws me off balance. It's a genuine, rare grin that reminds me so much of André.
The familiarity of it knocks the wind from my lungs. How would I ever recover from this heartache if André leaves me to rot here without him?
Tomás clears his throat and meets my gaze again, the friendliness on his handsome face disappearing as if he flicked a trip switch to turn down his warmth.
“You suspect Sapori’s assassination was a planned takeover of the Sicilian mafia organization––is that correct?”
“That’s what it looks like from where I’m standing—on the outside as usual,” I mutter that last part under my breath, shrugging slightly.
Tomás’ eyes skate over me, spearing me in place for a beat before he replies, “I understand you haven’t known the adult version of Dré for long… However, he hasn’t changed much from when you were kids. He’s still unpredictable. The sort of guy who’d persuade an island owner to hand over his vacation home for one billion dollars, so he could purchase a safe haven for his wife.”
His brows drift upward. “He still has that inbuilt resistance to adhere to important orders. So, when I told him to keep Sapori alive, it was a direct command from the head of our family. Yet here we are…” His testimony strikes like the first bolt of lightning. “Sapori’s body parts litter the ocean and my brother's wife is no longer in danger from the father who rejected her—who had his men beat the fuck out ofher. If you think Dré would marry just any woman––for business—then you’re sorely mistaken. You, Sinéad, have power over my brother, which makes you a threat.” I don’t feel like I’m breathing when he pockets his phone in his designer pants. “You’re his weakness, so you’d better not fuck him over. Or I’ll hunt you down and kill you myself.”
He bought the island for me.
You have power over my brother.
I swallow hard when Tomás fixes his haughty posture and adds, “Good chat. I hope you love him too. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I won’t keep my woman waiting for anyone.”
The most exalted man in Colombia just hinted to his own brother’s weakness—he confirmed what I’d already suspected to be true, deep within my heart, that André didn’t kill Frankie for power—he fulfilled his promise to me. Not only that, aside from the murderous threat of a protective sibling, he insinuated that André really does love me.
I hope you love him too.
“Tomás…” I shout after him, straightening my spine, oddly aware of destiny calling to me from the ocean floor. “… I’ve always loved your brother. And if it means anything to you—I’d do the same for him.”
Tomás glances over his shoulder and stares right at me. Something malevolent trickles through my veins and seeps into my heart, causing a shiver.
“You don't have to worry about killing our father.” Pure white teeth glisten in the shadows as he speaks with a sultry eloquent cadence. “He’s recruiting Sapori, both of them on a mission to haunt us from the underworld. Even in their graves, our fathers still fuck with our heads. If I were you, I’d sit on his throne, spend all of his fucking cash and stick my middle finger up at the bastard. I’ve no doubt you’re capable of the challenge ahead of you. Clearly, you can handle Dré, so you can handle anything. He’s partying at the firepit near the beach with the crew from Sapori’s yacht. Good night.”
“Good night, Tomás,” I say on a thoughtful whisper, as he prowls along the corridor and disappears into the darkness.
Subconsciously, my shoulders pull back to make my stance dignified in the wake of our candid conversation. André is a wicked sinner who set fire to the ocean to safeguard my future. As much as his monstrous show of redemption should disgust me, alarmingly, it reaches deep within my soul and rewards it with credence.
Bare feet swiftly carry me back to our suite, all the while my focus is locked on the inked letterQon my wedding finger.
He loves me.
And I adore him.
Taking a moment to gather my thoughts, I study myself in the vanity mirror. Tiredness has dulled my sun-kissed glow to a ghostly white. Yet my eyes sparkle with truth and the pulse in my neck visibly thrums from the buzz of my awakening.
As I control my breathing and stare at my reflection, an unbelievable metamorphosis occurs right before me. My expanding lungs feel fuller, my beating heart stronger, and the blood in my veins runs thicker, hotter––richer like liquid titanium.
Once upon a time I was a woman whose future was dictated by men and my prospects of a happy future bleak. Now my life flows with the tides in another direction. A life where I’m married to a man I love.
