I have no idea how long I sleep for. When I come round the clock face is turned away but I get the impression of minutes not hours from the scant clues around me. The strobes are still glaring down from the ceiling, the closet door is still ajar – exactly how I left it, the photo of the little girl is still lying on the nightstand as if I’d hoped somehow that my dreams would knit together the missing pieces for me. His knife is still tightly clasped in my fist.

I go to stretch and then freeze. There’s a strange prickling sensation on the back of my arms. It sets in flux a chain reaction that spreads unease throughout the rest of my body. My stomach muscles tighten, my breath quickens and my heart begins to thud.

I’m not alone in this room.

His presence hits me immediately. It’s like our bodies are connected on some intrinsic level. I can sense his anger, his frustration, his inner turmoil…

With a gasp, I wrench myself up to a sitting position. He’s sat on the floor against the far wall, his dark eyes coolly appraising me. His long legs are stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankle. The black fatigues he’s wearing are stained and torn. The tan skin on his face is dirty and bruised and there’s an ugly red wheal lacerating one side of his forehead. Scratches and cuts cover most his powerful forearms. There’s a handgun resting lightly in his lap.

“Hello Eve,” he says grimly.

At first I’m too shocked to speak. He waits patiently, cat-like, as if he has all the time in the world. His eyes are flickering over my face constantly.

“The compound,” I mutter. “Your men…”

“Gone.”

That one single word is so cold and brutal in its finality. He seems curiously unmoved by it though, as if his focus has shifted to something far greater than the ruin of his empire.

“Is your brother…?”

“Not yet. But he soon will be.”

Another shiver of fear courses through me. He’s seems so calm but I know that storm is always raging just below the surface with him. I glance at the gun in his lap.

“What happened to you?”

He cocks his beautiful, battered head to one side. “Do you really want to know, my angel, or are you just stalling for time? Why don’t you ask me the one question you’re desperate to? I think we both know that the rest is just bullshit.”

He’s right.

I have to know the truth.

My fingers tighten around his knife in my palm. I fell asleep clutching it, like I was seeking out his protection even when I was unconscious. I take a deep, unsteady breath.

“Did you murder my brother?”

He carefully considers my question. There’s no flicker in his face to betray his shock at my asking it. There’s no downward turn of his mouth to suggest a hint of remorse, just more of this cold indifference.

“Yes.”

I let out a cry. My face crumples beneath an avalanche of grief. I drop the knife, pull my knees up to my chest and try to stem the torrent of tears with my hands. “You bastard!” I scream at him. “How could you keep me prisoner here knowing what you did? Haven’t my family suffered enough?”

He makes no move to contradict or comfort. He just sits there.

Watching.

Waiting.

He wants me to react badly, to hurl angry words at him, to draw blood. That way he can come back at me with a strong contradiction, just to show me how powerful he is and how weak I am. I guess that’s what makes his next move so unexpected. He lifts his gun from his lap and slides it across the floor in my direction. It skids across the tiles and lands within touching distance of the bed.

“Take it,” he says harshly. “You get a free shot at me today, my angel.”

Without thinking, I lurch forward and scoop it up. I aim the muzzle at his head, though I can scarcely see through my tears.

“You sicken me, Dante Santiago.”

“I sicken myself sometimes.”

“How can you even look at yourself in the mirror?” I’m trembling all over. The gun is shaking all over the place. “How many people have you killed? How many lives have you shattered?

“My life is not a tale of morality, Eve. But you knew that already.”

“I knew nothing!” I cry, wiping my face and swinging my legs off of the bed. “Because you chose to deceive me, instead. What gave you the right to bend my every rule, my every impulse in your favor?”

He laughs but it’s a bitter, twisted sound. “Do you really think the odds are in my favor right now, Eve? My business is fucked, my brother betrayed me and the woman I desire most in the world is pointing a goddamn gun at my head.”

My breath quickens. “You deserve it. You deserve everything that’s coming for you. I hope you rot to death in some African jail cell.”

“Does that mean you’re not going to kill me?” He sounds almost disappointed.

“Do you wish to die that badly, Dante?” I say rising to my feet, the gun still trained at his head. “Isn’t there any part of you that feels pain or regret, or are you just numb all over?”

“I’ve felt something these past two weeks. With you. I’ve felt more than I have in years.”

“Don’t say those things!” I scream at him. “You don’t have the right anymore.”

“Maybe so, but if today is the day I die then I do so with all truths unveiled.”

“Truths? You want to talk about the truth?” I gasp, stunned by the nerve of this man. “Who’s the little girl in the photographs then, Dante?” I jerk my head at the nightstand. “Is she your daughter?”

There’s a slight jolt of his shoulders as I say it, like a mild electric current is passing through his body. It’s the first visible reaction he’s given me since I woke up and found him sitting there on the floor.

“Why do you care?” he says, recovering fast. “Take your vengeance and do it swiftly. Oh, and don’t forget to unclip the safety first.”

My eyes widen at his contempt. He’s trying to goad me. He wants to see how far I’m willing to go for my revenge. That’s when it hits me. This man doesn’t just enjoy inflicting pain on others. He enjoys inflicting it on himself.

“Don’t think I won’t do it, Dante. You have no idea how long I’ve dreamt of this moment.”

“Five years isn’t it, my angel?”

“Stop calling me that!”

“Just fucking do it!” he roars at me suddenly.

My tears are trickling down my cheeks now, rivulets of my own pain. The world tilts and distorts. I can barely see his face anymore.

“I put a price on his head, Eve,” he says softly, goading me again. “I never pulled the trigger but I may as well have. He kept calling me, begging and pleading for his miserable life…”

“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!”

“I sent Grayson to finish him off but by the time he landed in Miami he’d already OD-ed. He couldn’t be bothered to waste the bullet.”

My tears are an unstoppable force now. I can barely catch my breath.

“Jesus Christ, haven’t you heard enough?” He springs up from the floor and throws himself onto his knees in front of me. Before I can stop him he’s grabbed the muzzle of the gun and is pressing it tightly against his own forehead. “Pull the trigger, Eve,” he orders, gazing up at me. “This is your one shot. You will never get another chance after today.”

He looks so beautiful, so terrible… so determined to die. His cuts and bruises are shocking close-up. I can’t tear my eyes away from them. What hell and high water has this man experienced to get back to me today?

We stay locked like this for the longest time. Me, barely standing on shaking legs by the edge of the bed, and him, knelt down before me. Connected only by a loaded gun and the ruin of his actions. Just staring at each other, neither one of us willing to break eye contact first.

I can’t stop thinking about Ryan on the last day I saw him alive. He was so excited and hopeful, joking about some new ‘get rich quick’ scheme he was going to invest in. I had no reason to suspect narcotics, none of did. We’d both grown up in the shadow of my father’s work. We knew all the cautionary stories, the tragedies. The statistics. Damn him for thinking he was any different. I can’t stop thinking about my parents either, how they’d broken down on the day of his funeral and the guilt they must have felt. And then I think about a panicked phone call not long before he died, a pleading for money that was refused. A decision I will regret for the rest of my life. My finger flicks the safety off and the noise splinters the silence in the room.

“Do you feel any remorse for the things you’ve done?” I whisper, searching his face for one final bargaining chip. Something that will make this criminal’s life worth saving. Something that will make my finger loosen on this trigger.

There’s the longest pause. “Every damn day, Eve,” he sighs eventually. “Every damn day.”

Moments later the gun drops from my fingertips and hits the floor with a dull thud. “So help me god, Dante Santiago, you better pick up that gun and shoot me because I will find another way to destroy you for what you’ve done.”

There’s no triumph in his face, no relief. Even so, his next words devastate me.

“No you won’t, my angel. You can’t pull that trigger on me, anymore than I can pull that trigger on you.”

With a gut-wrenching sob I run for the en suite. Slamming the door on his face, I smash the lock across and slide down the white tiles in a crumpled heap. I hate myself a thousand times over. I had the chance to exact revenge for my brother and my family and I couldn’t do it.

There’s a sharp rap on the door.

“Open up, Eve.”

He sounds stronger, more like the old Dante. I’ve played into his hands like a dream. He knew I’d never kill him, no matter how hard he pushed, no matter how cruel his taunts but he had to give me that chance in order for us to try and move past this.

“Go to hell!”

“I’m there already, Eve. Believe me.”

“Leave me alone!”

“We need to talk about this. Stand back.”

“Don’t you dare…”

“Do it, Eve.”

A moment later the whole frame shudders and caves inwards beneath his fists. I cover my head with my arms as I’m pelted with splintered wood and plaster fragments. Through the broken remains of the door I see his silhouette and then a large hand is reaching out for me.

“Don’t you dare touch me,” I hiss, cringing against the tiles, but he grabs my upper arm and drags me to my feet regardless. Pulling me out of the bathroom, he throws me onto the bed and stands there, looking down at me, a familiar fire raging in his eyes. I can’t help laughing but there’s no humor in it.

“Don’t think that because I didn’t kill you I still want to fuck you, Dante Santiago.”

I watch his eyes grow darker and harder. “If I wanted to fuck you, Eve, I’d do so and, by god, you’d be screaming out my name.”

“So you’re adding rapist to your long list of dubious accolades?”

It’s my turn to goad him now.

“Would it really be rape, my angel? Despite everything, I know you still burn for my touch? Besides, you already think I’m the devil incarnate. One more sin isn’t going to change that.”

“You just said you regretted everything?” I whisper in horror.

“Not everything,” he corrects with a grimace. “Don’t chip away at my armour, Eve. You might not like what’s underneath.”

“You lied to me!”

“Not lied exactly, more ‘creative with the truth’. I do regret my part in your brother’s death, though. That I can assure you. I never, ever want to be the cause of pain for you.”

Is he for real?

“You will always be the cause of untold pain for me, Dante… Let me go. There’s nothing left for us now.”

There’s a pause. “Perhaps you’re right.”

My head jerks up. His words are like a blunt knife penetrating my heart.

“My aircraft is on standby to take you back to America. I only ask that you take one of my men with you. I’m in the midst of hell now, Eve. I can’t have any distractions and the other side won’t take prisoners. They need to think you’re history. It’s the only way to keep you alive. I’ll have a security detail waiting for you when you land. They’ll be discreet.”

“You’re letting me go?” I can scarcely believe it. I’ve wished for this moment for weeks but now that it’s here I feel sick with disappointment. How has this play flipped so far in his favor? Is this just more of his skillful manipulation?

“Yes I am.” He grits his jaw, like it’s painful for him to say it.

“Just like that?”

“The rules of the game have changed.”

“So that’s all I am to you, a fucking pawn?”

He frowns. “I thought this was what you wanted?”

Is it? Then why do I feel like I’m being betrayed all over again? I swivel sideways and push myself off the bed.

“I’d like to leave now,” I say quietly.

He nods. “It’s for the best, Eve.”

“Is the compound safe?”

“Yes, it’s back under my control. My brother and his men were long gone before I returned.”

I nod and turn towards the door. I can’t look in his direction or I’ll lose whatever self-discipline I have left.

“Give my pilot an hour to refuel.”

He’s speaking so formally to me now. His sentences are short and concise, his tone devoid of emotion. It’s like we’re strangers already.

I pull the door towards me but he moves swiftly and slams it shut again, his large palm lingering on the wood panel above my shoulder. He’s standing right behind me, I can feel his hot breath on my neck. Our bodies are thrumming with energy from their close proximity with one another. His scent is so strong, so masculine. Two days without washing has made it even more potent. I inhale deeply and close my eyes. I want to submerge myself in it and never resurface.

“Eve…”

“Don’t.”

“Let me look upon you one last time.” He sounds weary suddenly.

“You don’t deserve it.”

“I know I don’t.”

Even so, I find myself turning around. There’s a shadow disfiguring his left cheekbone and one socket is darkening already. Before I know it I’m tracing a finger across the wound on his forehead. His eyelids flutter shut and I can feel his powerful body shuddering beneath my touch. When he opens them again they’re blazing like burning embers. A fire for me, and me alone.

I’m transfixed, pulled under his riptide again, drowning in his raw masculinity. He looks so bloodied and glorious, like a warrior returning from battle. A deep coil of lust is unfurling between my legs. My gaze falls to his lips, so full, so smooth. I want to feel them on me so badly. If this is goodbye then I want our last kiss to be as memorable as our first.

Like always he seems to know exactly what I need. Our resolve crumbles together and he smashes into my mouth with a groan, delving deep and hungry, pinning me to the door with his body weight.

“Damn this fucking life, Eve. Damn it straight to hell!”

“Come with me,” I beg him, pulling his mouth back to mine, drinking in the sharp contours of his face, his beauty no less dulled by these new scars. I remember my dream last night. I remember his smile. I remember how happy it made me feel to see it. “Turn your back on it, Dante. Walk away.”

His face contorts in agony. “I can’t.”

“There’s nothing left for you here.”

“It’s not that…” He curses and I see the conflict written all over his face. “Christ, you have no idea, my angel, and I hope you never do.”

My dream starts to fade. Soon my hopeless tears are drenching both of our cheeks. If this is how it has to be then I need to feel that passionate connection one last time. Moments later I’m tearing at the zipper of his pants. He reacts quickly by dragging my skirt up and ripping my panties from my body. I’m so wet for him already, the moisture slicking the top of my thighs as he slams me back against the door, his tongue engaging in a feverish dual with mine. I go to fling my arms around his neck to drag him even closer but he winces and twists away.

“Fuck!”

“What’s wrong?”

“I broke my shoulder.”

My eyes widen in shock. “Are you serious? You need to be in a hospital!”

He stares down at me as his lips start to twitch. I then watch in wonder as the smile that I dreamed about slowly creeps across his face. It’s like a sliver of light penetrating the bleakest of circumstances. I’m mesmerized. It’s so much more than I’d hoped it would be. His first genuine smile for me is a thing of rare beauty, banishing his darkness and transforming his face into a priceless memory.

“Why are you so happy all of a sudden?” I gasp.

The smile widens. “For a moment there I could almost fool myself that you cared.”

“I do care, regardless of how wrong and messed-up that sounds. I hate you. I want you. And I’m fucked if I understand any of it.”

“Don’t curse.”

“Fuck you!”

“I have to send you away, Eve.”

“I wouldn’t stay if I could.”

“I need to be inside you…” His last sentence is more a strangled groan. Instantly that beat is back and my stomach muscles tighten in anticipation.

“Sit on the edge of the bed,” I instruct him and his eyes gleam with comprehension. He takes a step back and unfastens his pants before complying with my request. I quickly wriggle out of my skirt and remove my t-shirt and bra. I can’t think about the horrors of his past right now. I’ve banished all shame and guilt momentarily. I want him too much, this stunning man who desires my body as much as I desire his.

“You’re beautiful,” he says softly, raking his eyes over my nakedness as if committing every curve and flaw to memory. His dark pupils are nearly black with lust.

“So are you,” I murmur, climbing astride him, tipping my head back and moaning as he guides a nipple towards his mouth. He sucks at it hungrily, his huge erection nudging the inside of my thigh as I gently rock my hips back and forth creating an exquisite friction between us. One hand is kneading the soft flesh of my ass, directing and encouraging me constantly, and the other lies redundant by his side. His shoulder must hurt like hell. Pleasure is the only distraction I can offer him.

Lifting my hips, I wrap my fingers around the base of his cock and guide him towards my drenched sex, sinking slowly and reveling in every last, perfect inch of him as he stretches me to my limits and beyond. He groans and stills as I work him all the way into me, tilting forward until my clitoris is pressed tightly against the burning skin and soft black down of his lower abdomen. And then I pause, savoring the sensation of being filled so utterly and completely by him.

“I never dreamt that anything could feel this good, mi alma,” I hear him groan.

“Never forget me.” My breath catches in my throat.

“Never.” He sounds so determined, so resolute.” You are forever imprinted on my soul.”

In response I let my forehead fall forward until it’s resting against his. At the same time I cradle his strong jaw in my hands, taking care not to brush against his bruises.

“Make love to me, Eve,” he declares. “Leave me that treasure.”

I smile down at him and circle my hips slowly, satisfying my aching sex, riding him so gently so as not to jar his injured shoulder, making every single moment count. He groans again and buries his face into the side of my neck. At the same time he’s circling the tip of my clitoris with his thumb until my rhythm starts to falter and I’m trembling from the inside outwards.

Growling impatiently, he whips his hand away and brings his palm down hard on the side of my ass cheek. The stinging slap makes my eyes fly open and the walls of my sex convulse around his cock.

“Too slow! I want you screaming my name not panting it.”

“You told me to make love to you!”

“I’ve changed my mind.”

“You don’t get to dictate this…”

“I always dictate this.” Pivoting sideways onto his good arm, he flips me over onto my back and drags me to the edge of the bed by my hips.

“Dante, you’re shoulder!”

“Fuck my shoulder,” he hisses. “We’re not cut out for making love, Eve. I want to devour you, not treat you like a pet.” He grabs the insides of my thighs and opens my legs wide, baring my most intimate part to him. He pauses, his gaze fixated on my glistening sex. “Christ, Eve,” he mutters, “you bring me to my knees every goddamn time.”

His words spike my body with lust. “Fuck me then,” I say desperately. “Do it, Dante, please!” I ball my fists around the sheet beneath me and arch my back, opening myself wider, urging him to take me anyway he desires.

“Quiet. Let me look at you. I will never see a sight more exquisite than this.”

“Damn you!” I’m hurtling closer and closer to the abyss. I never knew a woman could orgasm from words alone. “Give me something, hurry! Your cock, you fingers, your lips, your tongue…”

“I need to mark you first,” he snarls, his expression singular and primitive. “Keep your legs open. You’re mine, Eve Miller.”

“Always.”

He lets go of my legs and grasps his cock. He starts to stroke the shaft right there in front of me, pumping his fist up and down in a brutal fashion, never once lifting his eyes from his destination. I watch his expression switch to hunger and determination and suddenly his intention is clear.

Oh my god, he means to come all over me.

I glance down. The smooth head of his cock is tantalizing close to my outer lips. His body is straining to reach his release now, his pumping almost violent in its intensity. I can’t stop staring at him, this savage picture of virility and desire. He’s the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen. His olive skin is covered in a thin sheen of sweat, his head is thrown back, his eyes are shut tight. He’s so damn close…

He comes with a low hiss of my name, directing his spurting seed all over me, coating my sex and thighs in his sticky warmth, and then using his fingers to spread himself into my every crease and crevice. “Mine,” he repeats, enthralling me with the roughness in his voice before he’s plunging two fingers inside of me.

The crude nature of his act seals my fate. With a harsh rasping cry I come too, the walls of my sex throbbing and burning as I’m pushed over the edge by his desire to claim me like this.

There’s a moment of clarity as the strobes spin above my head like fireworks on the fourth of July. It’s one that both frightens and exhilarates me. He’s the blood pumping through my veins, the last gasp of breath in my lungs, my dreams, my nightmares and everything in between. No matter the distance, no matter the circumstance, no matter who dares to try and tear us apart, I’ll always be his…

Forever.