Page 62 of Burning Beauty

He gave her a sharp look and recaptured her hand, holding it tight on the seat between them. "You have barely spent more than a few hundred dollars on that credit card and everything you've bought have been gifts for your family back in Mexico."

Her jaw dropped and she stared at him surprised, then she remembered he said he would be checking her credit card purchases; he had the power to know what she bought and where it was sent. There seemed to be nothing in her life that could be kept from him. Not that she was trying to hide anything, but some things belonged to her. Like her family. They'd had a tough time when she and Ruiz disappeared after the trial. They hadn't been in touch very often for fear Marc's family would find them.

"What do you know about my family?" she asked, somewhat aggressively. She had no doubt he knew plenty, with his stalker ways, but she needed to know if he knew about Marc. She supposed it was probably well past time to talk about it.

He shrugged negligently, his focus on his phone. He appeared to be reading emails. "I know everything."

"No, you don't!" she snapped, panicked. If he knew everything, why hadn't he ever brought up her trial?

Nic switched his focus from the phone to her, giving her a dead-eyed stare. "Do you doubt me, bella?"

The chill in his voice told her they probably shouldn't be having this conversation after all. Perhaps Nic had decided to bury her past and didn't want further details. Still Maria was always one to push when there was something to be pushed. "So you know about what happened to Marc? About what I did?" she asked challengingly.

Nic put down his phone and shifted in his seat to look at her more fully. "You do not want to talk about your ex-fiancé to me, Maria. Drop it now and we will move on with our lives. You belong to me and nothing, especially not a dead fiancé, will change that fact."

Maria was shocked. Was he jealous of a dead man? Did he not understand the import of what had happened five years ago? "But... I killed him." She spoke the words quietly, maybe for the first time since her panicked 911 call after she'd stabbed Marc.

Nic's expression became even more glacial. "His death brought you to me. I am happy that you killed the competition before I could get to him. Otherwise you might have hated me even more."

Maria's jaw dropped at his flawed logic. Nic was always so in control, so perfectly eloquent and logical. Yet, he spoke of impossible things. "But you didn't know me back then, you never would have met me if Marc had survived. I would have married another man and moved on with my life."

"No, Maria," he snapped, holding up a finger menacingly. "You belonged to me the day you were born, it only took twenty-five years for us to find each other. We are inevitable." He leaned over so his face was hovering next to hers. She was too frozen to her seat to move back. "Fate would have brought us together, and if you'd had a fiancé or husband when I found you, he would have had to be removed."

Maria's heart pounded at his declaration. It was so brutal, so barbaric. Nic was allowing his true colours to shine again.

"I don't believe in fate," she whispered back.

"Nonetheless, we are together now, and only death can separate us. You will never be allowed to leave."

She stared at him with wide eyes and then shook her head. "Every time I think you're redeemable, you do or say something else to break my heart."

Nic settled back in his own seat, glancing out the window as they pulled up to his private plane. "Your broken heart does not matter to me, bella, so long as the rest of you is attached to it."

Maria's heart really did shatter over his words. She'd given him so many chances to show her that she meant more to him than just a warm body to fuck. She'd given him her love and he refused to give her his in equal measure. She loved him, but she also sometimes hated him. He wanted her, but he pushed her away at the same time. And if she weren't firmly his captive, she would be walking out on him, because no woman deserved what Nic was dishing out.

And just like that, Nic was off her Christmas list. She snatched up her purse, slid out of the limo and stomped up the stairs to the jet.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Their trip to the west coast was a silent one. Maria stewed over Nic's hot and cold ways, declaring that she belonged to him one minute while pushing her away at the same time by telling her he didn't care about her broken heart. Maria was a passionate woman. She was every Latina stereotype and proud of it. She was combustible when she was angry, but she loved like there was no tomorrow when her heart was in it.

"Eat something," Nic said without looking up. He was sitting across from her on the airplane. She'd tried to take another seat, but he grabbed her arm and dragged her over to the seats they occupied last time they were on the plane, flying to Miami from Las Vegas.

Maria glowered at him, though it was a wasted glare since his head was lowered and he was typing on his laptop.

She ignored his comment and said coolly, "I thought criminals weren't supposed to keep records of their activities. Yet you seem to use your laptop and phone for correspondence."

Nic looked up slowly, giving her a raised eyebrow in warning. If there was one thing she was learning about Nic, it was that he didn't like being called a criminal to his face.

"I do have legitimate businesses." He leaned forward in his seat, pinning her with his dark stare. "I don't know what has made you so contrary this morning, but I suggest you stop while you are ahead." He sat back in his seat and went back to work, ignoring her.

Maria rolled her eyes and huffed, reaching for a magazine. She wanted a fight, but apparently he wasn't going to indulge her. As she flipped blindly through the magazine, some of her anger drained away and she began to think more logically. She supposed she was annoyed at him because he'd known about the darkest days of her life and then shrugged them off as though they meant nothing. And to him, they probably didn't mean anything. What was another death to him? He killed for profit, for dominance, to maintain control. He'd proven in the driveway of his home that he could kill without a shred of remorse.

But to Maria, Marc's death had been the most violent, most traumatizing thing in her life. Or it had been until she'd watched Antonio die. The difference in their attitudes only proved how different they were. How could they possibly make a relationship work under these conditions? Yet, instead of working on their differences, Nic was telling her that it didn't matter, that she would never escape him. The thought was depressing. Not because she wanted to leave Nic. As much of a cold-blooded criminal as he was, she still loved him. She still wanted to try to build a life with him. She just wanted his cooperation in forming a partnership.

She set her magazine down and closed her eyes, sinking into the pleasant nothingness of sleep. If she couldn't work out this problem awake, then she would gently drift away from reality and into an alternate dreamland where Nic wasn't such a beast.

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