Page 218 of The Counterfeit Lover

Although the encounter started pleasantly enough, I'm observant enough to detect a shift in the atmosphere, especially as I note his eyes glint with hidden interest.

Before I can reply, he barks a few orders, asking one of his men to bring us something to drink. I make to refuse when he brings hard liquor, but that would only delay things since he will no doubt try to coax me until Iwillhave a glass with him.

"So, do tell," he invites, bringing his glass to his lips and watching me intently.

"Alonso," I tilt my head as I raise a brow. "Just how do you think I survived?" I give him a sweet smile. "I killed everyone."

"Including Sergio," he blinks, taken aback.

I shrug. Taking a sip of the whiskey, I look him dead in the eye.

"His time was going to come. Eventually," I add cryptically.

"I always knew you were a cold-blooded woman, but I never thought you'd have it in you to kill your own husband," he mentions, his tone appreciative.

I let my lips tip up in a subtle smile.

"Then you never truly knew me, did you?"

"I only knew what you allowed the world to see," he fires back, suddenly getting up and coming to my side, taking a seat next to me.

I don't let my smile waver, though this nearness makes my skin prickle with discomfort.

From the beginning, I've hada fewprinciples on which I've built my life, and two have become central to my identity. First, no one who threatens me or mine lives to see another day—as evidenced by my current quest against Ortega. Second, there is onlyoneman in the entire universe who may touch me, or invade my personal space—for anyone else, to do so would be inviting death. And I'm nothing if not generous in doling that out.

"Why don't you show me what you prepared for me?" I point at the boxes.

"Come on, Noelle, you can't tell me you're in that much of a hurry."

"As a matter of fact yes. I am. I have a murder appointment," I give him an innocent smile.

He regards me for a moment before throwing his head back and laughing.

"Now that. I truly missed your skewed sense of humor."

"It so happens it isn't a joke," I state seriously. "I have to pay a visit to a certain someone, and those," I nod to the items, "would make it much easier for me."

"Who is it?" He inquires, suddenly interested.

He's also an inch closer to me, having moved as he was laughing.

Does he really think I don't notice?

Still, for old times' sake, I'm willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.

Momentarily.

"His name is Ortega. Maybe you've heard of him?" I probe.

"Ortega…" he muses.

"He used to be affiliated with Jimenez."

"Oh, that Ortega. I know him. Nasty fellow," he grimaces. "Never liked him."

Hmm, interesting.

"And you wouldn't happen to know his location, would you?"

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