Page 28 of Falling for the Enemy

When I remain silent, the hesitation in speaking the words he needs to hear weighing on my mind, he uncrosses his arms. Curling a hand around my waist, he presses his thumb against the brand Papa burned into my flesh on the day of my twelfth birthday.

Though it may seem like an intimate gesture, his bruising touch serves only as a reminder. Of whom I am. Of what I am. Message received.

“Find out if it’s her they’re after.”

He presses harder. “And if they are?”

“Then burn them all.” I lift my hand and cup his cheek, forcing his full attention to remain on me, ensuring he absorbs what I say next. “All of them except for him.” My stomach twists, an emotion resembling dread settling deep in my belly. “Like Stefano, he’s mine to handle.”

“Consider it done.” He steps back, breaking our two-way connection. “Viktor and I will head into North Charleston. It may take me a few hours, but before night falls, I’ll have answers—”

The bark of multiple guard dogs drowns out his voice, drawing our attention to the closed front gate, where an idling black SUV now sits. My men surround the vehicle, each of their weapons drawn.

That’s when I see him.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

Standing next to the vehicle’s open passenger door, Alejandro glares at the balcony where I remain, his eyes brimming with obvious fury. Stubble-covered jaw locked tight, crimson stains his sharp cheekbones, highlighting the rigid set of his features.

I tilt my head to the side, studying him.

Differing from our last encounter, his thick dark hair is mussed, and droplets of blood stain his half-buttoned dress shirt. As for his busted and swollen knuckles, despite the distance that separates us, they’re visible.

His disheveled state is intriguing.

And unexpectedly attractive.

“This zhopa…” Casper reaches inside his leather jacket for the gun he keeps strapped to his side.

“Stoy,” I say, ordering him to stop, my palm landing on his forearm. “I want to see how he proceeds before—”

My lips part on a swift exhale when Alejandro steps out from behind the SUV’s door and slams it shut, seemingly unconcerned by the weapons trained on both his head and heart.

He storms forward, reaching the gate as my men shout orders at him and his driver, who’s just emerged from the car, his hands raised non-threateningly.

Orders the former ignores.

“Manzana!” he shouts, the wild tone of his voice mirroring the savage expression painted on his breathtaking face. Hands wrapping around the iron gate’s bars, his shirt sleeves do little to hide the tension lining his forearms. “Tell your men to open the gate, Hermosa. I’ve brought a gift for you.”

Apple and beautiful.

I’d be a lying suka if I said that each name didn’t tempt my lips to curve heavenward. A peculiar emotion, excitement stirs upon seeing and hearing him speak such endearments.

Unaccustomed to the foreign satisfaction that rolls through me at the sight of him, a feeling I should nix before I become addicted, I allow silence to fill the air.

But unable to deny my curiosity a second longer, I drop my hand from Casper’s arm and shatter the quiet that now surrounds us.

“Let him in.”

My men know better than to hesitate.

Or to question my command.

Alejandro steps back, his hands falling to his sides as a grim-faced Viktor punches an eight-digit code into the gate’s control mechanism, forcing it to slide open. When the wrought iron is no longer a barrier between us, I brush back my windblown hair, tucking it behind my ears.

Pulse hammering, I crook my finger, beckoning him closer. “Come inside, Alejandro.”

“Ari—”

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