Blood Ties (Dinero de Sangre #2) - Lana Sky Page 0,75

similar in height and bulk, but each man carries his strength in drastically different ways. Jaguar is lean, light on his feet, reminding me of his feline namesake, while Domino resembles a wall of stone, immovable and rigid.

“I think I’m done giving you more playtime,” Jaguar adds, stroking his chin as his smile returns. “Yes… I think I’ll take her back with me tonight and get well acquainted with Ada-Maria myself. Maybe I’ll learn if it’s her pussy or her mouth that has you so whipped. I’m willing to try both.”

“Are you going back on your word, Julian?” Domino demands, his voice colder than I’ve ever heard it. I find myself instinctively inching back a step, and for a good reason.

At the sound of that name, Jaguar inclines his head, his lip quirking downward. “Anything I promised you beforehand is invalid,” he says. “Considering that you’ve been lying to my fucking face from the very start. What have you told her, huh? And why are you so damn fixated on keeping her? It couldn’t be because you’re planning on taking her for yourself, right from under my nose?”

These past few days, I’ve become so accustomed to reading Domino’s every nuanced expression, that I think it’s the only reason why I catch the flicker of alarm that crosses his features.

Apparently, so does Jaguar because he laughs. “Don’t look so surprised, Dom-Dom.” Turning on his heel, he strolls for the balcony. “You may have your own network of spies and allies, but so do I. Some of the people who you think are in your corner have always been squarely in mine. I’ve known for months that you’ve been planning and squirreling away your money and assets where you think I won’t see it. You’ve been clever,” he admits, gripping the railing. “Very, very clever. But not clever enough. You see, Dom-Dom, you can’t outsmart me. I am always one step ahead, and the next time I catch wind of you plotting behind my back, I’ll come back here and run a knife through Ines’ throat and use her blood to water your pretty little flowers. I fucking dare you to try me.”

“You’re bluffing.” Domino scoffs as he barks out a laugh of his own. “Always taking shots in the fucking dark. Your paranoia will be your downfall, Julian. So eager to find a hint of betrayal. If you thought I was dealing behind your back, you wouldn’t come here with open arms to sunbathe on the fucking terrace.”

“You’re right.” Suddenly serious, Jaguar turns around, his eyes glinting with a calculating gleam. “I’d set this place on fire with you inside that pretty little house, and I’d use the screams of you, and all of your traitor staff, as the soundtrack to a nice barbeque I’d hold right here on your so-called terrace.”

He doesn’t look relieved of his suspicions. If anything, his raised eyebrow conveys irritation, as if he’d been confident of a win only to have his power play foiled.

Because, in this game of verbal poker, Domino has an unshakable poker face. I can’t get a read on him either way, and I realize that all those years playing toady for my father paid off to his benefit. He’s mastered the art of deflection.

Deep down, some sick part of me might be impressed before I remember that neither of these men has my best interest at heart. If anything, I sense that I’m some kind of toy being yanked back and forth between the two of them in a twisted game of tug of war. Who will win? I honestly can’t decide which victor I prefer.

“Fine.” Jaguar throws his hands into the air, his grin firmly in place once more. “You win. Why don’t you tell Ines to find us something to eat, and we can discuss our differences like men, over dinner.”

“Ines!” Without taking his eyes from Jaguar, Domino waits until the woman appears dutifully near the entrance to the house.

“Yes, sir?”

“Have cook prepare us some tapas and serve them in the dining room.”

Jaguar claps as she scurries away. “Wonderful! After you.”

“As you wish.” Domino snatches my wrist before heading inside. I scramble to keep up with him, noting the slight changes to his appearance that I missed. He’s wearing jeans—the first time I think I’ve seen him in such casual attire since he brought me here. His hair is windswept and wild, his shirt a plain gray tee shirt that betrays the tension coiled in his muscles. He looks…

Tired.