Page 65 of Heart of a Villain

He stopped and wrapped his fingers around her upper arm, stopping her with him. “What face? What eyes?”

“Joel’s.”

“Do you mean to kill me, querida? When you asked me to help you kill a man, was that man me?”

“Adrían, no offense, but Joel is very good-looking. Like…very. And his eyes are beautiful. I can see what my sister sees in him.”

He motioned to the ground. “Mark this spot. This is where I will return with a shovel and bury myself.”

“Oh my god. You’re so freakin’ dramatic.”

“I’m Brazilian. And there’s nothing special about whatever color eyes Joel has.”

“They’re blue. The prettiest blue.”

He walked off.

“Hey,” she began, her feet moving twice as fast to keep up with him, “do you think that him being attracted to Ayesha means?—”

“Don’t finish that sentence.”

“But, if we’re using that logic, that means he’s attracted to me too, right?”

“Did he put you up to this? Because he’s not allowed to kill me, and Ayesha has forbidden him from sending Pozza, is this him attacking from a different angle?” He cursed under his breath. “Son of a bitch. It’s brilliant.”

She burst out laughing.

As she laughed, he watched her with that same faint smile, his brow line relaxed. Then, her dead heart received a jolt that cut her laugh short; he’d taken her hand and slid their fingers together.

There was a naturalness to it, a contentment that was on its way to convincing her that there had been nothing wrong with holding onto feelings for him. It wasn’t as if he’d treated her poorly. In fact, he’d treated her so well that she was hard-pressed to believe any man could compare.

“You come in a close second,” she teased.

He shook his head. “I won’t accept any other spot in your life than number one.”

“Give it time.”

“Whatever time it takes.”

“Do you mean that?”

“Sayeda, I don’t know that I have the words to explain what’s been going on inside me, but being here with you is like falling out the window of a tall building, and right before you hit the ground, you learn that you can fly. The chances of me seeing you again, talking to you and holding your hand? It was the same as someone trying to convince me that if I jumped to my death, something impossible or mythical would save me. I won’t lose you again. I have too many plans.”

“Like what?”

“Dates,” he said without the slightest bit of visible discomfort. “Trips. Walks like this one. Making love under the stars. Doing for you what you did for me.”

“And what’s that?”

“Helped me through a maze of darkness.”

Her hold on his hand slackened, but it wasn’t because she wanted to let go, and she for sure didn’t want him to let go. For a spell, she’d found herself no longer in Sweden. Instead, she’d found herself lost in a dark apartment in southeastern Brazil.

“Is his name Lorenzo?” he asked.

“What?”

“Okay.”

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