Page 49 of No Sweeter Poison

“You just noticed?”

He steps inside and closes the door behind him. “I had something to do first.”

“Mm,” I say because it’s the only thing I can come up with.

He glances at the sea of boxes. “I see Lettie had a good time. She’s always wanted a sister.”

“What she wants is a doll.” I cut him a look. “Maybe you should get her one.”

For some reason, this makes him smile. He removes a hand from his pocket and gestures. “I see she’s given you the full Lettie makeover.”

Feeling subconscious, I smooth a hand over my hair, the thick waves tangling around my fingertips. The shade of red came out slightly different than I'm used to but I had to remind myself of all the color correcting that went into it. I was starting to fade to pink. “Is it bad?”

He shakes his head. “No, not at all. You look…”

Frustration gets the better of me. I can’t handle the suspense. “Look what?”

“Like you.”

Words fail me.

Alejandro says, “I have to take a drive somewhere tomorrow. Why don’t you come with me?”

“And risk a third kidnapping? No thanks.” I plop down on the bed. “I’m already used to this place. And my bags are unpacked.”

“Dahlia, one of these days, the whole kidnapping thing is going to get old.”

Maybe. But certainly not today.

“Did you need something?” I ask because his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows and the top buttons of his shirt are opened and my vision is starting to blur around the edges as the lust induced haze settles in.

Focus!

He doesn’t respond right away. “There’s been a sort of update in regard to Ibanez and Montenegro. Figured you might want to know.”

Do I? I’m not exactly sure.

I nod and gesture toward the fireplace. He settles into the love seat while I perch myself on the edge of the sofa, hands folded in my lap, legs crossed. Every time his eyes flicker across my skin, lingering on intimate places like the curve of my neck and the inside of my wrist, tension winds tight like a coil in the pit of my stomach.

God, this would be so much easier if he didn’t look like that.

“We think they were spotted in Andorra which means they’re heading further east. My guess is they’ll either end up somewhere in Greece or Albania. Diego guessed Italy but I’m not convinced. It feels too obvious.”

Not sure what any of this means, what the difference is between these three countries, and why Alejandro and Diego have varying theories, but I listen regardless. At least he cares enough to keep me in the loop where he probably wouldn’t have before.

“All right,” I say, unsure of how to respond.

Alejandro moves his fingers along the armrest, fingers tracing the delicate pattern, as if unconsciously. I track each movement, heart racing, imagining how those fingers would feel somewhere else.

"Have you spoken to Karina lately?”

Absently, I shake my head. “No…she hasn’t returned my calls.”

Which reminds me, if she doesn’t FaceTime me in the next forty-eight hours, I’m filing a missing person’s report. I get she went home early to be with Brent but she’s been uncharacteristically silent lately.

He looks like he might say more but doesn’t. When he rises from his seat, I move to follow, but the sofa and love seat are at an angle and with the coffee table eating up most of the space between us, we bump shoulders—me, on my way to safety on the other end of the room and him, on his way out.

We lock gazes. Minutes pass before I’m brave enough to speak.