Page 107 of Devil's Property

Whatever the future held, I only hoped we’d navigate the stormy waters together.

As Navarro finally released, filling me with his seed, I finally felt fulfilled in a way I’d never experienced before.

Yet even with the pleasure streaming through me, the electric vibrations tickling my senses, I felt the danger encroaching all around us.

It wasn’t just the peril of possibly losing our lives. It was about snapping the tenuous hold we’d had on a past that kept me afraid.

I couldn’t stand the thought of losing more than I already had.

Including the man who’d soon become my husband.

For better, for worse.

There was something entirely different about standing in the little house I’d worked so hard to make a home after everything that had occurred over the last two weeks. Nothing seemed real any longer, yet I was full of emotions as I carefully stepped over the broken pieces of my former life.

“The bastards did this,” Navarro growled from behind me.

I stood with my arms folded as I surveyed my living room. “It was worse. At least I righted the furniture and picked up the broken glass. It’s funny when you think you’re safe just by being able to lock the door. One breach. One horrible moment can change everything.” The view out the window caught my attention. From where I stood, I could just see the beach fifty or so yards away. This was the only spot in the house where I was able to see the ocean water.

My favorite location. I moved to the banquette I’d created, easing down on the pillow. At least the bastards hadn’t shredded the cushions. As I pulled my feet up, cradling my bent knees, he took a deep breath and began to look around.

He’d been so quiet during the plane ride, typing notes on his laptop that he’d yet to allow me to see. Not that I’d asked. I’d remained in a fog, thinking about the past and the possibility of the future, even if doing so left me nauseous.

Brooke was safe and sound, loving the attention she was getting from Navarro’s men in our absence. She relished learning more about her home country, eager to see what the future held. Forme? I was fraught with anxiety, concerned the game we’d set in motion would backfire on us.

Especially with regard to my father.

A single phone call to him had been made prior to leaving Barcelona for LA. The message had gone through, the voice no different than the message he’d recorded six times after I’d gotten him the iPhone one Christmas. Yet everything felt different.

As if I was waiting for the shoe to drop.

Maybe a gavel.

No, a guillotine.

Hearing a rustling noise, I turned my head to find Navarro picking through my ruined art. I’d gingerly placed the torn canvases against one wall in the living room, determined to fix them. Right. How could one go about repairing something that had been slashed by a knife? I lifted the dress I was wearing. My bone-handled knife had been returned and was strapped to my leg in the exact place I’d secured it the night I’d gone to the club. I don’t know why, but it made me smile. To think I’d really believed I could kill the man.

“The paintings are beautiful,” he said in a quieter voice than normal.

“They were my favorites.”

“Hopefully, you’ll recreate them. They remind me of you.”

I crawled from the banquette, slowly walking toward him. “How so?”

“Vibrant yet cautious, eager to explore the world while still tethered to a past that refuses to let go.”

“Is that what you believe?”

He placed the painting he had in his hand on the floor and took my hand into his, pulling my knuckles to his mouth.

The sensual move was accompanied by a killer look in his eyes. Far too seductive. “Nice try.”

Chuckling, he kissed my fingers before allowing me to pull my hand free. “You love this little house.”

“Just four walls and a roof as my dad once told me.” When he laughed, I narrowed my eyes. “What?”

“Something my dad used to say too.”