Page 21 of Twisted Fate

She isn’t behaving like a woman who’s married to me only for money or power, who is working with my father to undermine me.

But wouldn’t she be smart enough not to behave that way?

She’s got a cunning, sly side to her; I saw that at our first meeting.

Surely she’s playing the game that they’ve both set up, wanting me to do exactly what I am now—question my own lines that I’ve drawn and my own feelings.

By noon, the sun overhead is high and hot, and Omari suggests we stop at a large acacia tree for refreshments.

He parks the Jeep beneath one side of the semi-shading branches and gets out a small folding table along with a cooler pack of drinks and snacks, pointing out birds and explaining their habits and names as he does so.

I get out of the Jeep, circling around to help Sophia down. When I reach for her waist, the feeling of her beneath my touch, my fingers curling around her slim curves, sends another jolt of need through me.

She looks down at me, her sharp green eyes meeting mine, and I see a flicker of recognition. That desire that floods me every time I touch her—she feels it too. Whatever game she’s playing, whatever goal she and my father have in mind, that at least is real.

The moment her feet touch the dry, grassy dirt, I let go of her as if she’s burned me, stepping back to put much-needed distance between us.

“Are you enjoying the safari?” she asks as we walk over to the table, glancing over at me. “It’s a nice way to spend the first part of the day, right?”

“Sure.” I take a glass bottle of lemonade, already perspiring from the heat, and take a sip. “It’s interesting. Not something I’ve experienced before.”

She presses her lips together, glancing around, and I watch her expression, trying to gauge her response to my noncommittal reply.

I can’t read her as well as I’d like, but she seems irritated.

Irritated that I’m not buying into her game, or is she really upset that I’m stonewalling her?

It’s difficult to tell whether Sophia’s moods are the result of a wife who expected something different from her husband, or a woman who isn’t getting her way.

But she has mafia ties. She’s familiar with our world. Surely she didn’t expect a romance when we married. Surely she didn’t really believe that I’d fulfill every loving, passionate, girlish dream she might ever have had.

Sophia trails past me, taking a bottle of lemonade for herself and a quarter of a sandwich. “It would be too much for you to actually admit that you’re having a good time, wouldn’t it?” she snipes in a low tone, glancing back at me. “You’d have to admit that you might not hate being in my company.”

“I never said I hated it.” I take another long swallow of lemonade.

I’m thirstier than I realized—the sun out here, even at this time of day, is intense.

“I simply said that I want to keep my distance, Sophia. I don’t get close to my business associates, and this is a business arrangement. Nothing more.”

“A wife is something more.” She purses her lips.

“No matter the reason for the marriage.” Her shoulders are tense, and she tips her bottle back as if there were something stronger than just lemonade in it.

It brings the long, slender line of her neck into focus, and I have to look away from the movement of her throat as she swallows.

It’s been a long time since something so simple could turn me on—but just the sight of it makes me think of wrapping my hand in her hair and forcing her to her knees, the way her throat would tighten around my cock as I made her swallow that instead.

I grit my teeth, turning back toward the Jeep.

I’m about to head over and ask Omari how soon we can return, when there’s a sudden, loud bang from the vehicle that makes both Sophia and me jump back as a plume of black smoke emits from the hood.

My hand instinctively goes to my back for a weapon that isn’t there, and I see Sophia’s hand twitch oddly.

I glance back at her, curious as to what she was doing, but the sound of Omari cursing loudly turns my attention back to the vehicle.

I stride toward where he’s already popping the hood of the truck. “What’s happening?”

“Looks like engine trouble.” Omari swears under his breath again, glancing over the interior workings of the Jeep. “Doesn’t look good.”

“Can you fix it?” Sophia’s voice comes from just behind me, and I glance over at her.

Her brow is furrowed, her lips pressing together anxiously.

But something about her demeanor seems off.

She doesn’t seem as panicked as I would have expected her to be—a city-bred, spoiled heiress now stranded in the Serengeti with a broken vehicle in the middle of the afternoon.

Omari peers under the hood, studying and poking at the inner workings of the Jeep for a few minutes before shaking his head. “The radiator is cracked. I’m not able to repair it here.”

“So we’re stranded.” I glare at him, my muscles tensing as I calculate the risks. We’re several hours from the resort, and there could be any number of predators close by. The Jeep offers some safety, but only if we’re moving. Sitting out here like this, we could be in a deadly situation.

Not for the first time, I curse the fact that I don’t have a weapon with me. I managed to bring a gun in my luggage, refusing to entirely comply with the resort’s weapons policy, but I didn’t bring it with me today. An oversight on my part, because I let my guard down.

A mistake that I can all too easily think of reasons to blame on Sophia, and her influence.

“I’ll radio for help,” Omari assures us. “But it may take some time for another vehicle to get out here. Three hours, maybe four.”

“Four—” I grit my teeth, glancing around again. I can’t help but think that this smells of a trap, even if it’s likely just bad luck. When I look at Sophia, she still seems far too calm for the situation, though she’s scanning the area around us with wariness in her eyes, too.

“We have plenty of water,” Omari assures us both. “And additional food, if you are hungry. And—” He heads to the back of the Jeep and slings a rifle over his shoulder. “I’m armed, just in case of danger. But we should be careful, all the same.”

Next to me, I see Sophia flinch, almost imperceptibly, at the sight of the rifle. I narrow my eyes, watching her. Is she afraid of the idea of predators, or is she, too, wondering if Omari is all he says he is? Is she concerned that this is some kind of trap?

And if so, why would it be? Has my father decided I’m such a liability that he’d rather have me removed from the board altogether?

“Are you alright?” Sophia moves closer to my side. “You look tense.”

I snort softly. “This isn’t exactly an ideal situation to be in, wife .”

Her eyebrows shoot up. “Are you blaming me? I can’t possibly have expected a resort-sanctioned excursion to go so badly.”

“No, of course not.” Even I can hear that I sound insincere.

Sophia glances around, taking a deep breath. “There’s no cover other than the tree. Plenty of visibility, but the grasses are high, and—” She breaks off abruptly, and I frown, looking at her curiously.

“Another thing Kane taught you?” Much like her response last night, her assessment seems too professional for who she says she is.

Sophia shrugs, just a little too casually for my taste. “Maybe I’ve watched too many action movies.”

She’s being purposefully evasive, and we both know it. But now isn’t the time to press the issue.

“Stay close to me,” I tell her, taking her arm and moving her closer to the side of the Jeep. “If anything happens, do exactly as I say.”

She jerks her arm free, glaring up at me. “I can take care of myself.”

“I doubt it.” My fingers curl into my palm, itching for a weapon. I feel too exposed, too vulnerable, and I don’t like relying on one strange man to protect both me and my wife.

I might not have wanted to marry Sophia, and she might be driving me a little more insane every day, but that doesn’t mean that I’d allow anything to happen to her.

She looks like she wants to argue, but a sudden sound in the distance causes her to snap her mouth shut instead—a low, rumbling roar that raises the hair on the back of my neck.

Omari’s hand immediately moves to his rifle. “Lion,” he murmurs. “Not too close, but stay vigilant.”

Sophia’s eyes widen slightly, but mine narrow as I watch her. She should be afraid—and to a less practiced eye, she might appear to be. But to me—someone who has seen real fear and terror, who has caused it, she looks like someone pretending to be afraid.

What I see is a heightened awareness; the attitude of someone who is accustomed to danger.

Before I can ponder the situation any further, there’s a sudden movement in the tall grass—about fifty yards away. I see a flash of tawny fur, and then the swish of a tail.

Sophia gasps softly next to me, and this time I think it might be genuine.

“Omari,” I murmur as calmly as I can, not wanting to give off a sense of alarm. “On our left.”

The guide turns, his body tensing as he spots the lion—a young male, I’d guess from the looks of him, his mane not yet fully developed. He's watching us with lazy curiosity, but I can imagine that could change quickly.

"Stay very still," Omari instructs, raising his rifle slightly. "Do not run. Running triggers their chase instinct."

“I hadn’t planned to,” I murmur dryly. Next to me, I can feel Sophia tensing.

"If he charges," Omari continues, "I will fire a warning shot. The noise usually scares them away. But be ready to climb the tree if necessary."

I eye the tree dubiously. “Is that possible?”

“There are low branches on the other side,” Omari says, not taking his eyes off the lion. “It won’t be easy, it’s but possible. Send Mrs. Abramov up first.”

My jaw clenches. I didn’t need him to tell me that, but this isn’t the time to argue. From where the lion is crouching, I see him stretch, then begin to pace, moving in a wide circle around where we’re standing.

I have the sense that he’s sizing us up, determining whether or not we’re worth his time.

I’ve never been so eager to be dismissed out of hand.

“He’s not hunting,” Sophia whispers. “He’d be crouching, not pacing, if he were. He just wants to make sure we’re not dangerous.”

I glance at her, surprised. Omari gives her an approving nod. “Mrs. Abramov is correct,” he says quietly. “He’s curious, not actively hunting us. But we should still be cautious. He could be dangerous all the same.”

The minutes tick by, long and tense, as the standoff continues. The lion watches us, and we watch him.

Then, with a dismissive flick of his tail, the lion turns and melts back into the tall grass, apparently deciding that we’re not enough of a threat to merit any more of his time.

I’ve spent my entire life trying to be the apex predator of my world, but for once, I’m glad to be ignored. “I’ve never been considered non-threatening before,” I murmur quietly, low enough for only Sophia to hear. “And I’ve certainly never been happy about it.”

She laughs, a small, nervous sound, but without thinking, it makes me reach out and grab her hand. I hold it for only a second, giving it a reassuring squeeze before letting her go, but I feel her tense, the gesture surprising her as much as it did me.

Next to us, Omari lets out a breath of relief. “He might return,” he warns. “We should stay vigilant until help arrives. I’ve radioed the resort; someone should be on their way.”

I nod. We retreat toward the shade of the tree, where I see Sophia reach for a bottle of water with a slightly trembling hand. Not as cool and collected as she’d like me to think, then—but still more so than any woman I’ve ever known before.

She’s a mystery, and she’s becoming one that I’m more and more curious about with every passing day.