Page 48 of Bastard

“See that the supplies are ordered, and everything is packed and ready to go.”

“And her, Boss?”

“I’ll deal with her.”

I bristle. He was about to kiss me and now he’sdealingwith me? Does he regret what was about to happen? What am I, a weakness?

I grind my teeth together. He’s your boss.Nothing less. Nothing more.

“Luciana,” he says my name. All business. A study in self-control. “In two days, we’ll be deep within our assignment and playing the role of a couple. There’ll be no room for spontaneity or emotion. We’ll be creating an illusion. Offering our target what we want them to see. Nothing about what is about to happen will be real. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Have we already started? Was what just happened his way of transitioning us into our roles? That’s the danger about being fascinated by a flame. It’s deception always burns.

“A fake relationship.” I hold my head up high. “I understand perfectly.”

15

Iswim in the deep end of the pool, then across the bottom before coming up to the surface. It’s after midnight and the yacht’s quiet. My racing thoughts are anything but.

One last lap.

One last time I’ll indulge myself in fantasy. Of how things might have been if he’d allowed our relationship to progress.

We live in a beautiful Victorian house with the latest modern amenities. Not too large, not too expensive. Comfortable. The picture-perfect home forus. A wraparound porch overlooks a lake, and two hammocks swing in the mountain breeze. We lay coiled together inside one as it rocks back and forth while we kiss.

It’s a foolish dream. Far removed from where we began and farther still from where we ended up. A dangerous, ruthless man like him idling about with his wife in a hammock? The things he’s done, the people he’s hurt. He’s not exactly the tender loving husband in my fantasy.

But as hard as I’ve tried, it’s been no one else.

Did I ever truly know him? Or was our marriage as fake as the relationship he’s proposing?

No sé, ojalá lo supiera.

I float for a while, considering how the only thing predictable in life is how unpredictable it can be. I’m in this pool, on this yacht in the Indian Ocean, in the company of my ex esposo, now my boss.

I flip onto my stomach and begin swimming laps. Every time the T-shirt I shouldn’t be wearing rides up my body, I curse myself for my rebelliousness. A bathing suit had been delivered. But Hayden’s earlier words about curbing my spontaneous nature had me pulling on the freshly washed shirt. I’m free to do what I want tonight before our fake relationship begins.

All this will be over in a few days.

I’ll return to Nmimpi—that’s why I agreed to work for him, right?

Seven laps in and my head bumps into something solid. I’m hauled out of the water and into the air, sputtering with surprise.

Hayden.

He sets me on my feet. “It’s unsafe to swim after drinking.”

I blink the water from my eyelashes as his sharp reprimand sinks in. I’m not about to deny that I consumed a pitcher of sangria. Especially considering it’ll be awhile before I taste my favorite drink again.

I catch the smell of liquor on his breath. “You’ve been drinking.”

His gaze dips downward to my shirt. “And you’re tempting fate.”

“You never said I couldn’t swim.”

“I warned you.”

I glance down at the wet material plastered over my body.