“Like what?”
“Like you want me to kiss you again.”
“Don’t.” My voice came out uneven. Anyone would know it was a lie, not just her.
Yet she didn’t kiss me. She stepped back and crossed her arms, giving me a hard look. “You realize I could help you.”
The conflict between relief and regret was sharp. “Help with what?
“The Abramos.”
“No.” I frowned. “You stay off Giovanni’s radar as much as possible. I mean it.”
“I can take care of myself, Nathan.” She gave me a hard,final look before turning away. “I’ll get Frances to walk me back to my room.”
As she disappeared through the doorway, my body was too filled with tension to follow.
She heeded my warning.
The smart girl wasn’t at breakfast the next morning, or at lunch. She didn’t go on the morning drive, and Giovanni had been visibly annoyed when she didn’t appear for the afternoon one. Thankfully, he had no luck with poachers this time around, but it made the Italian fidget in the Land Cruiser, antsy for the rush and power of controlling another’s life.
My office had shockingly little information on Amin. A low-level warlord from central Africa eager to make a name for himself. It was an odd partnership for the Abramos. Their dealings up until now had been exclusive to Europe. What would make Vitale want to branch out to Africa?
It didn’t make sense.
We unloaded from the vehicle at the front of the lodge, and as soon as Giovanni’s shoes hit the dirt, he scoured the place for Olivia. If he couldn’t get his main fix, he’d settle for the other.
She stood in the shade of the veranda, deep in discussion with her Scottish co-pilot, and as I made my silent approach, I tried not to evaluate how good her silhouette looked when she was backlit by the bright sun glaring beyond the roof.
“Olivia?”
She turned to face me, startled by my arrival. Those deep, perceptive eyes scanned me critically, but the hard expression vanished from her face when she noticed Giovanni alongside. She was guarded and cautious.
“Tell the other pilot to leave,” he ordered.
“Can you excuse us for a moment?” I said to Rory. “Mr.Abramo wants a word with the captain.”
Even though the air around us was open, the unease inside me was thick and suffocating. The Scotsman nodded and stepped away, casting a worried look at Olivia. But she nodded to reassure him it was all right.
“Tell her to meet me for drinks at the bar,” Giovanni ordered, “after I’ve eaten dinner.”
Damn it. “Giovanni—” I started.
“Gio,” he corrected, irritated.
“Gio would like you to join him for drinks.”
Her gaze flitted between us, hesitant. “Remind him I’m seeing someone.”
It was too late for that. “I can, but he’ll be offended if you refuse.”
She put a hand on her hip, her body language full of indifference. “Oh, well.”
The instant need to protect her was so disorienting, it just happened. “You will say yes to this.” The word sprang from my mouth, feeling alien. “Please.”
She jolted, startled that I was asking her to do exactly what I’d been telling her not to. “Why?”
“Because he won’t handle the rejection well,” my voice filled with dread, “and I don’t know what he’ll do to you.”
