Page 3 of Hostile Secret
It had all happened a few weeks ago. The gaping hole in my heart still aches, even though I’m baking under the Cuban sun on this private island owned by his employer and best buddy, André Souza. Who also happens to be a notorious cartel leader, and my—what is he to me?
We don’t share the same bloodline, but he refers to me as his kid sister—always has. Except he’s not my brother-in-law or even my stepbrother, but heisthe closest thing I have to family now Reno isn’t around.
Apparently, my brother had made him promise to take care of me if he died first. So, I guess André is stuck with me because of some sort of alpha man code.
I’d more or less grown up around André and his wild ways, but his twin brother Giovanni––that guy is an enigma. The few times I had met him, he barely acknowledged me.
Even when he’d sat at the foot of my bed in the days after Reno’s murder, he didn’t say much or offer any words of condolence. Rather, he quietly observed me with his mesmerizing jade gaze, waiting for grief to release me.
I was too torn up to ask him to leave or question why he was the one in my room rather than an armed guard patrolling my apartment. Nor did I care. My world had imploded, and the nights were darker than I’d ever known.
So, the fact I have to live with him while I finish school is both troubling and odd.
André’s Doberman puppy had traveled to Sin Island with me and stayed when he’d left for Ireland. We basically have shared custody of Daenis, although she’s more my dog now.
“What’s up, Dae-Dae?” Hearing her nails tap the stone slabs surrounding the pool, I open my eyes in the shade of a bright white parasol blocking the high sun and sit upright.
Happy for more company, Daenis scampers across the terrace towards waving palm fronds and where a man dressed all in black appears from the shore. The pedigree puppy doesn’t growl like she would if he was a stranger.
His fixed gaze is hidden behind dark aviators and a pelt of unshaven scruff darkens his jaw. Thick ebony hair sits on top of his head, combed back from a swarthy forehead that remains crease free as he advances. His stealth approach every bit the stalking hunter.
Giovanni Souza.
He’s not identical to André, but they do look alike. It’s their personalities that are miles apart.
Where André is boisterous and untamed, Giovanni presents himself as lethally calm and stoic. Less brutal drug lord like his deceased father and more a calculating Irish mafia don to resemble his mother’s side of the family.
Giovanni wears combat pants and a fitted long-sleeved t-shirt that stretches around muscular arms. His physique isn’t quite as brawny as his twin brother’s either, but more athletically toned than bulky.
It’s clear he works out though, even if it’s not bench-pressing awe-struck gym bunnies. From the limited time I’d spent with him in the past, he comes across as a man who’s focused on regimentation and accuracy.
A silent assassin who exudes power and masculinity.
“India.” He stops alongside the crystal blue pool, ignores Daenis’ attempt to charm him, and stares out at the seascape beyond swaying palms. “Get dressed. We’re leaving in five.”
The second he rakes long fingers through his hair, the sunlight catches the gemstone of his signet ring. It comes alive on his middle finger. If we hadn’t already been acquainted, that telltale family bloodstone would have given away his identity.
All the Souza men wear the same piece of jewelry, except for Matheus. I don’t know why he doesn’t have one.
A flicker of excitement lights me up inside when I think of the youngest brother. I’ve had a secret crush on Matheus since I was fifteen.
Except that’s all it would ever be. If I even tried to flirt with Matheus, Reno would rise from the ashes as an apocalyptic zombie to keep me away from him—from an older guy––especially a delicious Souza playboy like Matheus.
I throw my tanned legs over the side of the sunbed and stand, adjusting the triangle cups of the sunshine yellow bikini I’m wearing. Taking a moment, I drag a few flyaway strands of air-dried hair away from my lashes.
I’d never wear this particular skimpy style of swimwear in front of my brother. However, I’m on a remote island where security guards patrol the shores and watch the sky rather than hang around the villa.
That’s the beauty of paradise. We pretend the bad guys don’t exist—even when the bastards roam the rest of the world.
I’d found the abandoned bikini in the drawer of my designated suite with the price tags still attached. Whoever inhabited this island before André bought it had a figure just like mine. Well, maybe they were a little slimmer or younger since the material mostly covers my nipples and that's about it.
Anyway, it doesn't matter. I’m seventeen and this non-conversationalist man is practically my adopted family.
Giovanni’s eldest brother and head of the Souza family, Tomás, had returned to Bogotá an hour ago with his pretty fiancé. He’d waited until my appointed babysitter had confirmed he was on the way to collect me. Even the Colombian kingpin had more to say to me than this guy normally would.
Moving toward him, I click my fingers, so Daenis joins my heel.
“Hey, Gio.” He turns to me and says nothing. “You’re the one who killed that bastard in New York. It wasn’t Letterman, it was you?”
