Page 35 of Queen's Move

She raised her arms when he leaned in to unbuckle her, reaching up to brush her hair aside so it wouldn’t catch in the belt. She breathed in his scent, looked down at the smooth darkness of his hair while he touched her. He was such a strange contradiction of old world formality and sharp intelligence. He saw her strengths and encouraged them, rather than beat them out of her. Now that she was well and truly caught by the Venezuelan arms dealer, she could allow herself to bask in the exhilarating sensation of his deep regard for her.

He jumped out of the plane first, coming around to her side and opening the door. She waited for him, knowing he would want to assist her. When he reached for her, she turned in her seat and slid out of the plane. His strong hands circling her waist, he lifted her out and set her on the ground in front of him. She twisted around and looked up. He searched her face for a moment and then took her hand, leading her toward the hangar.

“Where’s our security?” she asked curiously. It had been so long since she’d gone anywhere by herself that the freedom of being alone, without protection, was both frightening and freeing.

“The only person who knows of our honeymoon plans is Mateo. I didn’t want anyone else disturbing us. Of course, there’s security on the island itself, but they will be discreet.”

Vee felt her face heat and wanted to roll her eyes at herself. She was a thirty-seven-year old woman with a lifetime of experience. But something about this man made her feel shy. She hoped he wouldn’t be disappointed. While experienced, she hadn’t been called on to do much in the bedroom department. Just entertain the men that expected a fuck. Somehow, she thought faking it wouldn’t go over with Sotza. He was too subtle, too nuanced. He would want honesty from her. Could she give it to him?

The short drive to the coast was mostly in silence. Vee was too nervous to speak. Normally she might break silence like this with a biting, snappy comment, but today, she had nothing to say. Sotza had lapsed into his typical quiet. He never seemed to feel the need to fill silence with conversation. He only spoke when he had something to say.

Two men, wearing the standard security uniform of green and black, met them at the docks. Sotza briefly introduced Vee to Juan and John. She had to swallow a laugh at their names as she solemnly shook their hands. Sotza instructed her to go to either of the men if she needed anything. He told his men that they were to listen to Vee without hesitation. She understood. He didn’t mean they would help her with meals or household chores. Sotza trusted her to recognize threats and to go to these two men if she had concerns about their safety. She wanted to thank him for acknowledging her ability to assess a situation and call the shots when needed, but she held her tongue. Their whirlwind marriage, preceded by a contentious and bloody engagement, made her question everything. Him, herself, their situation. She wasn’t ready to feel gratitude toward Sotza.

The sun had set as the boat docked and Sotza reached for her arm and helped her step out of the boat while his men secured it. She walked off the dock and onto the sand. The hem of her skirt brushed the sand and when she tried to kneel down to unbuckle her sandals, the dress stretched tight across her ass and hips, preventing her.

“Let me,” Sotza said, his voice a husky timbre.

She held her breath as he went down on one knee in front of her in the sand. The back of his hands brushed her skin, sending tingles up her leg as his sure fingers worked quickly with the tiny, delicate buckle. In seconds she was free.

“Lift your foot,” he said sliding his hand up her bare calf, beneath her dress, holding her so she could step out of the shoe. She braced herself with one hand on his back and lifted her foot, sinking it into the sand. He quickly helped her with the next until she was standing barefoot. The smooth, cool sand embraced her.

Vee grinned, turning away from him and walking toward the water. She inhaled deeply, taking in the ocean scent, so familiar yet also different. She walked from dry sand to wet, holding her skirt around her knees, and sighed as the water rushed over her toes up to her ankles. It was wonderful. Slightly cool, but not uncomfortable.

“You missed it,” Sotza said coming up behind her.

She nodded. “It’s a powerful thing. Sometimes wonderful, sometimes terrifying. But the one thing it isn’t, is judgmental. The ocean is steady, it never leaves. No matter what was happening in my life, I could always go back, like I was going home.”

“I understand,” he said. “I feel the same about my jungle. It’s wild, untamed. Growing up, I became a part of it. When I went to boarding school in England the separation was unbearable. Like a physical disturbance in my soul.”

Vee looked up at him. His words were quite poetic for such a practical man. She wondered if anyone else had ever heard The Butcher speak in such a way.

He picked up her shoes for her and ushered her toward an all-terrain vehicle. They sat in the back while his men sat in the front. She wondered where the guards would stay. She hoped not in the house with them. Vee was nervous enough without having men she didn’t know or trust hanging around too close. She glanced at Sotza. His head was turned toward her, but she couldn’t see his eyes in the dim interior. She could feel the heat of his gaze on her though, knew he was contemplating the night to come.

He helped her out of the vehicle, holding the door open for her. She winced when a rock bit into the bottom of her foot.

“I’m sorry, I should have realized,” he said, and before she knew what was happening, her feet were swept right out from under her and she was lifted up against Sotza’s chest. She knew he was strong, tougher even than many of the younger men that traipsed around his property. He held her effortlessly and strode toward the house. One of his men tried to get the door for them, but Sotza was too quick. In the blink of an eye he was carrying her across the threshold.

“Smooth,” Vee murmured. “If I didn’t know any better, I would think that was planned.”

Sotza stared down at her. There was no amusement in his eyes, just heat. Like he was finally allowing himself to feel everything he’d been holding back, showing her those emotions. And if she was right, he wanted her desperately, lust blazing clear through his dark, enigmatic gaze.

“Leave,” he threw over his shoulder.

His men didn’t need further instructions, they closed the door and left Sotza and Vee alone. He didn’t put her down. He carried her through the house, which was illuminated with soft lighting. Her heart pounded and she could barely catch her breath. She dug her nails into his shoulder and held on tight as they entered the bedroom.

He carried her to the bed, a huge four poster that dominated the room, and laid her on it. He knelt on the bed beside her, looking down at her, his dark eyes ravenous, his features creased in hunger. He looked like a Spanish conqueror. He was a Spanish conqueror. He took the things he wanted without mercy. He’d earned the nickname Butcher through his ruthless bid to claim territory, his effortless ability to take out the obstacles in his path and his terrifying methods of subduing his enemies.

And she was his prize. His wife.

“Sotza… please,” she whispered as he leaned back to remove his jacket.

“Isaac,” he corrected her.

“Isaac.” His name came out a breathless gasp, a plea.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Vee was afraid.

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