We’re here. 

The air is so thick, I can’t breathe. It’s like walking in a steam room. My hair refuses to lie flat. After a lifetime of dry summers, it’s strange to find a world so green and wet. And warm. 

It’s different. I like it.

As soon as we disembarked, August ushered me into a car packed with men. I hesitate on that word because I’ve never known bodyguards to strap assault rifles to their chests. The closest I’ve ever seen are photos of airport security in New York City, but those were police officers. And it doesn’t help that I do not understand the conversation around me.

Not that August is saying much. He’s crammed in the seat beside me, his jaw locked in tension. I don’t ask what’s wrong, but his continued silence needles at my calm. I console myself with the fact we’re surrounded by an arsenal of weapons.

Even weirder is the regal-like attention they give to my fiancé. When he speaks, everyone falls silent, and August doesn’t have to raise his voice. They defer to him for all decisions, which strikes me as odd. He’s the son of a general. That does not make him God. 

My stomach knots as I mull it over. I study him for clues, finding nothing. He watches the lush landscape roll past, bitterness curling his lip.

I touch his arm. “Okay, enough with the suspense. What the hell is this?”

August attempts a grin. “I’m just not thrilled to be back.”

Bullshit. My guess is he can’t speak freely. I swallow my questions and focus on the scenery.

The sky darkens to a midnight blue, turning plants into long, swaying shadows. Their leaves are like jagged teeth fanning in the wind. An hour passes. Maybe more. We arrive at a checkpoint. The driver exchanges money with guards who wave us through. 

August breathes a sigh of relief, his face splitting with his first real smile since we landed. “Everything will be fine.”

August told me we’d land, take a brief drive, and be home. If this is his idea of quick, I’m not going on any more road trips. 

Finally, the driver taps the window. I spot an off-white, mission-style villa sprawling over several acres of cleared jungle. Lights illuminate its huge archways carved into massive adobe walls. A low-pitched roof with projecting eaves stands over an enclosed courtyard. 

A gate bars us from entry. Everywhere I look, soldiers wearing fatigues stand at sentry with rifles. 

Jesus. This is insane.

Why does he need so much security for a place like this? It’s tucked away from civilization.

The guard sitting in the booth steps out and glances inside. He utters a greeting to August, who nods. The bar shudders open. We roll into the driveway parked with military vehicles.

“This is where you live?”

He sighs as though it’s a disappointment. “Not what you expected, right?”

Hell no. 

We exit the car, and I breathe in the scent of thick vegetation. The estate is richly landscaped. We walk into the courtyard and I gape at the gigantic arcades. It’s beautiful, but the presence of guards ruins the peacefulness.

Outdoor furniture surrounds a fountain, which plays in the background. I admire the architecture as August rattles orders in Spanish. 

A troop of men decorated in black and gold approaches us. A man with striking features walks at the head of the party. Salt and pepper hair flows in a wave to his neck. A trimmed beard almost hides his smile. 

“Augusto,” he booms. The man extends his arms, pulling my fiancé into a reluctant hug.

They dialogue in terse phrases. August gestures toward me. “Americana.”

The older man laughs, pounding August’s arm. Then he reaches me, stepping far too close into my personal space.

“Lily, this my father.” 

“Luis Espada.” He embraces me, kissing both cheeks. “Welcome, Lily.”

Blood rushes to my skin. “Thank you.” 

So this is the infamous general. Something about his dad stalls my breath. Maybe it’s the uniform or the obvious strain between them. Maybe it’s because I can’t understand anything.

His broad smile fails to break the tension. “Let’s show you to your room.”

My stomach clenches at being separated from August, but I don’t want to deny someone who makes my fiancé so uncomfortable.

With a blast between his lips, he summons a woman in her fifties with deep, olive skin and black hair streaked with gray. She beckons me. I follow her into the arcades, leaving August in the courtyard with his father. Perhaps it’s the lighting casting dramatic shadows, but the conversation looks unhappy.

What the hell is going on?

“My name is Rosa,” she says, drawing my attention away. “Nice to meet you.”

“Lily.” 

I accompany her through corridors flanked with soldiers. Finally, we duck into a set of double doors. It’s cooler inside, and I miss the heat immediately. 

Portraits hang on the adobe walls. Many of them depict the same man, August’s father. Weird. Wall lights flicker as we stroll along the magnificent foyer. The design is bold and masculine. We climb a sweeping staircase covered with a black and gold rug. 

“Señor Espada’s room is here.” She opens the door, revealing a sparse bedroom. There’s a king-sized bed, an armoire, two nightstands, and that’s it. 

I expected it to reflect the grandiose architecture of the outside, but it’s as though this was purged of all décor. I approach the French doors, which lead to a balcony with outdoor chairs and a sofa.

Rosa touches my shoulder. “Look.”

Smiling at my awe, she shows me the walk-in closet. It’s stocked with a rainbow of women’s clothing. “All yours. It’s all in your size.”

“What?” I take one of the chiffon blouses and check. “Wow. How did he—”

“Señor told us you wouldn’t have much.” Her mocha eyes glow. “I hope you like them.”

“Thank you—that’s—that’s very generous. I love them.” There are more clothes in here than I’ve worn in my entire life. I browse the dresses, jaw dropping at the designer threads. “How can he afford all this? God, he got me shoes, too?”

Rosa laughs at my astonishment, pleased that I’m satisfied.

Everything I need is in here. I think of the crap I shoved in my duffel bag and patches of heat rise to my cheeks. “I don’t deserve all this.”

Rosa gives my arm a friendly squeeze. “This is your home, Lily. Dinner is at eight. The general will expect you there.” Rosa breezes past me, yanking skirts from the rack. “Any of these work.”

I select a flower-patterned BCBG design that looks the most comfortable of the four. She slides a pair of pink flats from the drawer. 

Seven and a half.

He asked for my measurements weeks ago. August planned this well in advance.

Dizzy, I hold the dress to my body. “Thanks.”

“Do you have questions?”

“Why are there so many guards?” The pitch-blackness doesn’t quite shroud the gate manned by soldiers. "What is this place?"

She bites her fuchsia lip. “They're protection for Señor Espada. This is your fiancé's home.”

“Who the hell needs this much security?”

“His father serves the head of state. President Cortés.”

My jaw drops. I recognize the name.

Everyone in California does. He’s a tyrant who’s jailed thousands to keep the status quo. A lengthy civil war sends scores of refugees across the border every year. 

“He said we were going to Colombia!” He fucking lied. 

Uncomfortable, Rosa looks away.

This must be the reason for August’s tight-lipped secrecy. “Motherfucker!” 

“Bueñas noches.” Rosa waves goodbye before leaving. 

She vanishes before I can call her back.

“Shit.” I sit on the bed. Wait until I get my hands on him. And I don’t have to stew for long. I jump at the door closing, finding myself alone with August. 

“You fucking lied!”

A weak smile staggers over his face. “Technically, I didn’t. We flew into Colombia but drove into this country. Er—that’s why it took forever.”

The balls on this man. 

I stare at him. “How dare you?”

“I’m sorry.” A tortured expression contorts his features. “I knew you’d never come if I told you the truth.”

“Damn straight. President Cortés is a fucking dictator, August!”

“I know.”

“He’s killed people. Countless innocents.”

He sighs, resigned. “Yes.”

The blade of his betrayal slowly sinks inside me. “You made a fool out of me.”

“I wanted you.” He walks into my body, taking my arms. “Sorry.”

I yank from his grasp, striding to the balcony. “Fucking hell.”

“Lily, I’m not like him!”

“I don’t care!” I walk into the blast of humid air and lean over the railing. “You involved me in something I wanted nothing to do with.”

I survey the compound, my heart sinking. There’s a manned exit. Guards. Miles and miles of jungle.

I’ll never leave.

A dark edge creeps into his voice. “I am not involved.”

I turn away from the forest of whistling creatures. I listen to the noise, distracted by the symphony. “You’re the son of his general.”

“I don’t blame you for the crimes of your government.”

Fine. “You still lied to me!”

“I omitted information.”

“You lied. I trusted you, and you snuck me into this country illegally. What if we were caught? What if, God forbid, your father’s patrols decided we were a threat?”

“I’ve done this a million times,” he growls. “That wouldn’t happen.”

“I’m glad you were sure enough to gamble my life—”

He seizes my wrist inches before it strikes his face, eyes flashing. “You can hit me for being a lying bastard, but not that. I would not endanger you.”

Everything I knew about him was a lie. “What about the marriage?”

He softens. “What about it?”

“Is this ring even real?”

He folds my hand in his, snaking an arm around my waist. “Yes.”

Warmth blazes from his touch. I ignore the heat filling my cheeks. “August, I’m not—I won’t marry you.”

His eyes fracture with pain. “I told you it was complicated, Lily. You said—”

“Jesus.” My chest tightens. “I was so stupid.”

Pushing him aside, I step into the room and grab the bag he left by the bed. “I’m going home.”

“You can’t.” August blocks the exit, anguished. It’s as though I’m reacting the way he feared.

“What?”

“Lily, I can’t drive you across the border. Not for a few weeks, at least.” He inhales a sharp breath. “You have to stay.”

“The hell I do! I’m leaving.” 

He takes my shoulders. “If you wander outside, you’ll get lost.”

“I don’t intend to escape on foot.” I search for a phone, finding a cordless one attached to the wall. “I’ll—I’ll call a taxi.”

A humorless laugh graces his lips. “Yeah, you’ll find that difficult. That’s a radio.”

“Smartass.” I put it back.

“And there aren’t taxis in the middle of the jungle.”

The duffel bag drops from my grasp. 

I’ve never been so enraged. My fists hang at my sides, shaking. “Looks like you got me good and cornered.”

The warmth extinguishes from his eyes. “Don’t say that. If you want to leave, I can arrange that. You have to be patient.”

I throw him an ugly look. “Says the man who tricked me into flying here. Let me go, or—”

“You’ll call the police?” he suggests with a pitying smile. “Lily.”

“The American embassy, then!”

He chuckles. “Good luck with that.”

Horrified, I gape at him. “Oh my God. What did you bring me to?”

“I told you, I’m not connected. My life here has nothing to do with him. You’ll be safe. I promise.”

Promises from him are worthless. “I’m still leaving.”

“Lily, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, just fix it.” We’re over. 

Misery shatters my rage. Now what?

He combs his hair. “Father expects you at dinner.”

Is he serious? “I'm not going.”

“You’re coming,” he says, voice darkening.

“Screw you.”

“I’m not giving you a choice.”