Page 56 of Gabriel

Iwoke up to the gentle sway of the sea and the faint groan of a yacht cutting through dark water. For one stupid, wonderful second, I convinced myself I was hungover in some overpriced five-star suite, drowning in room service and bad decisions.

Then the cold bite of metal pressed against my wrist pulled me back to reality, and I remembered the plan I’d set out to accomplish. My eyes snapped open, and as I tried to sit up, the sharp clink of chains rattled against the polished headboard.

She cuffed me to the bed.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” I muttered, blinking away the fog. I was anticipating kidnapping, but not damned handcuffs.

The sheets beneath me were soft and comfortable, but the metal around my wrists definitely wasn’t. I tugged at the cuffs, testing their strength. Solid. No wiggle, no give.

I had to hand it to her—Amara didn’t just wing this. She planned it down to the last thread.

Too bad for her, I was already two steps ahead.

The cabin smelled like salt, leather, and her vanilla perfume. It brought me back a few hours to the moment I captured herlips with mine.Thathadn’t been part of the plan either, but hell if I was going to turn a good thing down.

Footsteps echoed as they approached, then the creak of the cabin door sounded and the woman starring in all my fantasies stepped in holding two mugs of coffee.

Hopefully they weren’t poisoned; you could never be certain when it came to Amara.

I grinned like I hadn’t just woken up in a real-life episode ofKidnapped: The Sexy Edition.

“Well, well, well,” I said. “If it isn’t Colombia’s most charming kidnapper.”

“I was going for theworld’smost charming kidnapper. Or at least South America,” she replied, raising a brow. “You’re awake.”

“Unfortunately.” I rattled the cuffs. “Tell me—is this part of the hospitality package? Or did I accidentally sign up for the deluxe experience?”

She set one mug on the bedside table and sipped from hers, not even blinking. It was so classically Amara, beautiful and impossible to fluster.

“Sorry about the restraints,” she said casually. “I couldn’t risk you killing me in my sleep.”

I barked out a laugh, the sound edged with something dangerous and not entirely sane.

“Kill you? Amara,preciosa, I just dropped a small fortune on lobster and wine for you. The kind of lobster that comes with its own zip code. I was halfway to proposing. You could’ve just asked me to come on your yacht. You know, like a normal person.”

She tilted her head. “Would you have told me the truth?”

I wouldn’t have, because I couldn’t trust Amara enough. Besides, even if I did tell her everything, starting with thatoutrageous proposition Jet had made over eight months ago, she wouldn’t believe me.

The bottom line was that we didn’t trust each other.

“Would you believe anything I said?” Her expression confirmed my suspicion. “There you go. Nonetheless, I would’ve appreciated the courtesy of beingaskedto come to your little yacht here.”

“I wasn’t gonna risk you turning the tables and kidnapping me, Santos.”

“Well, I hope you thought this through and at least lined up snacks and a playlist. Something moody, with songs about betrayal and lust.”

Her lips twitched into a near-smile. It was almost criminal how that small thing could make my heart stutter.

“You’re taking this well,” she said, watching me with a narrowed gaze full of suspicion.

“Sweetheart, I’ve woken up in worse places. A bathtub in Marrakesh. A meat locker in Chicago. A priest’s closet in Warsaw. Don’t ask about that one.”

She laughed under her breath. I hated that I loved the sound of it.

I leaned back against the pillow and studied her.

“What’s this really about, Amara? Because this”—I raised the cuffs, letting the metal clink for emphasis—“is taking it a step too far. Although, I do kind of like it. It’s slightly erotic and quite kinky.”