Blood Ties (Dinero de Sangre #2) - Lana Sky Page 0,69
I’ll finally find out my sentence. Death? Or something far worse?
In a daze, I make my way into the white room and stare from the windows watching the day slowly slip away as the sunlight darkens, turning golden. I don’t know what causes it—this imperceptible tensing of my muscles and a quickening of my heartbeat. A part of me is on alert even before I hear the telltale thud of a door opening and closing and a raised, masculine voice ring out.
When soft, shuffling footsteps approach my door, I’m already lurching to my feet just as Ines appears in the doorway, her head bowed.
“Mr. Jaguar is here, Miss,” she says softly. “He requests that you join him on the terrace.”
I notice that she doesn’t mention one other figure by name, and I can’t suppress the urge to ask, “And… Domino?”
She shakes her head, but if I’m not mistaken, a hint of alarm flits across her brown eyes before disappearing just as quickly. “Mr. Domino is not back,” she says.
But I sense there’s so much more lurking behind those ominous words. That gnawing unease chills me to the core as I stand and make my way through the house, bathed in the ochre light of sunset.
I hear him before I see him, a man with a booming voice that echoes loudly from the direction of the terrace.
“…So I came a little early,” he says, presumably into a phone given that I don’t hear anyone reply. “Don’t worry, I’m sure your little birdy tipped you off the second she saw me coming. Just take your time out on your little errand, Dom-Dom. I’m in no rush. In fact, it looks like I’ll just have to find a way to entertain Ada-Maria all by myself. See ya when I see ya, little brother.”
He’s standing at the balcony, eyeing me with a wink from over his shoulder. When faced in the full light of day without the shadows of Domino’s bedroom to obscure him, the man is imposingly tall, built seemingly from the same mold as his “little brother.” Muscle strains against the back of his thin white tee shirt that he wears paired with jeans. The tattoo covering nearly the full length of his left arm is on stark display—a predatory feline with dark fur, crouched among jungle leaves. I can’t help but notice that its hungry glare resembles that of the man spinning to face me, his lips parted in a sly, disarming grin.
“You must be, Ada-Maria.” His brown eyes size me up with a sweeping glance, lingering over my breasts, barely visible beneath the sweater’s relatively modest neckline. I’m already sweating, feeling the jeans cling to my legs uncomfortably. Perhaps it wasn’t so smart to try provoking Domino while having to face the brunt of the sweltering sun.
At the same time, some vain part of me is grateful for the extra fabric as a barrier against Jaguar’s scrutiny.
He has an aura so different from Domino’s—an all-encompassing swagger that instantly transforms this remote domain from an isolated paradise into a realm firmly under his control. He holds himself as though he owns the place, snapping his fingers to command Ines, who appears on cue.
“Bring us some wine,” he says, dismissing her with a wave of his hand. “The good stuff. I know little Dom-Dom wouldn’t want to be stingy when it comes to serving his guests.”
As she retreats, his piercing eyes return to me, his smile even wider. “Shall we?”
He inclines his head, beckoning me to follow him to the terrace’s second level. There, a familiar blond lounges on one of the white couches wearing a black string bikini. Her gaze is unreadable as she watches our approach, but when she turns to face Jaguar, I note that the angle is far different from how she’d contort herself before Domino.
She’s not letting her breasts spill out, but bearing her throat in a gesture of subtle submission. My mother looked at my father the same way. Like she’d die for him.
And at the same time…
Like he had a knife to her throat, ready to slice should her expression convey anything different. I learned in my early childhood that slender line between love and devotion. And oppression.
“Baby, why don’t you take a walk around the property. I need to talk to Miss Ada-Maria alone.”
Alexi’s simpering smirk falls flat. “But you just got here—”
“What the hell did I say?” His inflection never changed; merely his expression did. A hardness set into his mouth, and his