Blood Ties (Dinero de Sangre #2) - Lana Sky Page 0,43
play one more round of his sick game.
Still, I can’t resist a desperate attempt to turn the tables, no matter how small a move it might be. As I spin to face him, I run my hands along my hips, bunching up the material of my dress as I go. Slowly, I wind it up, up, eventually lifting it over my head entirely. Wadding the fabric in a fist, I throw it onto his lap with a final dare. “Lead the way.”
His idea of “a swim” occurs in a section of the property I have yet to discover, just past the terrace gardens. There are three levels of the feature in total, each one graded downward to the next until finally the paved path reaches the ground. The amount of landscaping, let alone water, required to maintain such a property astounds me.
Domino lurks just a few steps ahead, his face angled away, shoulders tensing with every step we go. He’s paranoid, though he’s very good at hiding it. I suspect Alexi isn’t the only one he’s second-guessing the motives of.
He’s wary of me.
“You said once that you owned this land before you started working for my family,” I point out.
“I did, and you’ve been here before.” His voice reaches back to me, barely audible above the chirping of insects and bubbling waters of a small fountain we pass. “You don’t remember?”
“I think I would remember if Pia owned a place like this,” I counter.
If the Ingleciases owned even a fraction of this amount of land—and were able to afford to maintain it like this—I think Pia’s life would have been very, very different. She wouldn’t have needed to pry her way into my world at all. I could have grown up alone, without her friendship.
The thought stings, and I shy away from it.
“I think we established that your memory can be faulty at times,” Domino says, leading me around a bend that coils against the outside of the house. Perched on the hillside above, the structure of it is breathtaking, made of tanned stone and a beautiful array of Spanish architecture mixed with that of an Italian-style villa.
I’m so distracted by the sight, that I almost miss the carefully concealed dig hidden within Domino’s reply. Was he referring to my recollections of Pia?
Or of him?
I haven’t decided by the time we finally reach our presumed destination.
It’s a square-shaped naturalistic pool sunken into the earth, placed close to the hillside. A fake waterfall extends, nearly as tall as the height of the entire terrace itself, compiled of tan stones built into the earth and gently trickling streams of water that enter the pool from three different locations.
Now I’m sure of it—Pia Inglecias definitely didn’t possess a property like this a decade ago.
Still, I hold my tongue as Domino approaches the water’s edge and strips his shirt before tugging off his slacks. “Get in.”
My nakedness feels more heightened here than during the entire walk across the property. This place is shrouded by a row of planted palm trees, not visible from the house itself. I don’t spy any hint of the servants who I know lurk throughout the rest of the property.
We feel more alone here than even locked inside his room or in a shower stall.
If I were to scream, I doubt anyone would hear me or even care enough to come running.
“Don’t tell me Ada-Maria Pavalos is afraid of a little swim,” Domino remarks as he steps down into the water himself. It’s so deep that only his head and shoulders are visible once he’s waded toward the center. Cold, his eyes meet mine, chilling enough to have me shivering despite the persistent heat. “I know for a fact you’re not that shy. Get in.”
I choke down my unease and dip my foot beneath the water. It’s cool, but refreshing when paired with the full brunt of the sun. I keep going, realizing that a set of broad, stone steps beneath the water’s surface help me gradually adjust to the various depths. By the time I join him near the waterfall, I have to kick my legs to keep my head above the water.
He watches me, able to remain standing with his height advantage.
“You seem to know me so well,” I rasp, stopping as close to him as I dare.
“I know that you’ve spent enough time on the yachts of rich men to lose the right to feign caution when it comes to the water,” he snipes.