Clenching my teeth, I finally exited out of the program and shot to my feet. Again, I found myself bursting with restless energy.
Fucking hell.
Maybe bringing her to my island where there was nothing and nobody to distract me from her wasn’t such a good idea after all. The effect of her presence grew more desperate by the hour, and every dark, primal instinct inside of me taunted me. I wanted to take her, bend her over, and claim her. My balls ached, eager to be buried deep inside her.
I jumped to my feet, walked out of the office, and blindly followed the path to the library. I needed to talk to her, hear her soft voice.
My legs brought me to my destination in record time, and I stalked inside, the door to the library slamming into the wall from the force of my urgency. Liana jumped to her feet, her eyes darting around as if expecting someone else here.
“What the fuck, Kingston?” Lightning bolts blazed in her eyes, and her décolletage blotched crimson. My gaze wandered to her breasts. Her next words told me my discretion lacked finesse. “My eyes are up here, zasranets.” Jackass. She really loved cursing at me in Russian. “Or would you like me to dig out your eyeballs?”
I closed the door to preserve the heat in the library and leaned against it, tucking my hands into my pockets.
“Have you done it before?” I asked her casually.
She blinked, her cheeks burning red. “Done what?”
The corner of my lips twitched. Someone’s mind was in the gutter. “Dug out someone’s eyeballs,” I clarified.
She fell silent, her expression darkening before she masked it.
“I have,” she answered, her voice distant and flat. “I’ve stabbed a man in both his eyes and then watched him bleed out for hours.”
The words were like a punch in the gut. Liana had always been the stronger twin, but never psychotic or ruthless.
She sighed, and the heartbreaking sound tugged on the strings of my blackened heart. She wasn’t Louisa, but there was a part of me that craved to protect her and erase all the bad things she’d endured to become this ruthless version of herself.
But then just as quickly, she wiped her expression and narrowed her eyes on me.
“You need to do something about this library,” she grumbled.
“What do you mean?”
“There isn’t a single romance novel to be found.”
My brows furrowed. “There is a whole section with Agatha Christie novels,” I pointed out.
“Yeah, I know.” Someone had made themselves comfortable. “But I wasn’t talking about murder mysteries, was I?”
My molars clenched. There was nothing like going from one extreme to another.
“Why do you want to go back to Perez?” I said instead, focusing on the answers I needed from her.
“None of your business.”
“I’m trying to help you.” She gasped as though insulted and turned her head to stare at the fireplace. “Whatever you’re trying to do, you need resources.”
She glared up at me like a lioness ready to pounce for daring to point out the obvious. I bared my teeth, the sadistic part of me hoping she would. I was so up for a challenge.
“I don’t need anything or anyone. If you want to help, release me and take me back to Brazil.”
“No can do.” Her eyes filled with fire. Some would say we were headed for a disaster. I’d argue whatever this was could be an ingredient for something more. “Unless you know how to pilot a plane or navigate a boat.”
Her shoulders sagged for only a second before optimism filled her features. “I’m sure I can figure it out if you provide me with an operating manual.”
I clenched my fists. Jesus, the woman was willing to kill herself to get back to Brazil. I pinched the bridge of my nose. It was clear she wouldn’t be sharing anything. I could attempt torture, but hurting girls didn’t sit well with me. I suspected this pretty little psycho wouldn’t tell me anything even if I did.
“Sure, I’ll get you the operating manuals for both,” I finally relented. “If you manage to get either of them going, you can leave.”
But first, I’d make sure to remove the ignition cables. Then we’d see how far she made it without the help she so adamantly refused.
Chapter 40Liana
I’d been on this fucking island for a goddamned week.
And the only conclusion I’d come to was that Kingston Ashford was a pain in my ass. The only reason he’d given me the stupid operating manual was to shut me up.
It was my fault, really—I didn’t specify how the machinery was delivered to me. As in, the fucker sabotaged the engines.
“Grady White top of the line, my ass,” I muttered as I shut the deck floorboard with enough force to make the boat rock.
“You seem cheerful today.” I’d recognize that smooth-as-silk voice anywhere. My limbs ached from all the climbing up and down this stupid boat and I wasn’t in the mood. Despite the winter months, the temperatures during the day were warm enough to strip down into a bathing suit—or get a sunburn—which led me to believe we had to be somewhere in the far south of Europe. The Mediterranean climate was one indication; the numerous fruit trees, olives, and shrubs of lavender were others.
I slowly straightened up and found Kingston lounging in the shade in bermuda shorts and a white T-shirt, his ink somewhat visible beneath the stretchy material. He tossed me a bottle of water, and my traitorous eyes locked on his flexing bicep.
In my distraction, I barely ducked in time for it to miss me and hit the captain’s chair.
“Drink.” I glared at him, but before I could complain, he added, “And don’t bring up the whole gentleman thing. It’s getting old.”
“You almost hit me with it,” I fumed.
“Drink,” he repeated. “I can’t have you fainting.”
I snatched the bottle off the deck, gulped down half of it, then pointed my finger at him.
“You did this on purpose,” I accused.
“Did what?” Amusement flickered in his eyes, his voice dark with humor. “You’re going to have to be a bit more specific. I do many things every day.”
Nerves vibrated through me. I really disliked my body’s reaction to him. I’d give my left tit to get rid of it. It was so fucking wrong. First, it was clear he was in love with my twin. Second, his morals were questionable. There couldn’t be two of us with questionable morals—it’d be like feeding a serial killer more victims to murder. And lastly, if I didn’t capture his attention before, when he apparently spent ten years as my bodyguard, it was clear he only saw my twin in me now.
“You let me have the manual because you knew it was no use. Damn you.”
A quirk in his cheek. “I did.”
“You fucking—”
“Better think twice about what you say next.” He drew out each word, causing my nostrils to flare. He thought he could threaten me and I’d cower? He was dead wrong. I’d learned from my dear mother that nobody was to be trusted.
Everyone was out to hurt you, and this man was no exception. My goal was to hurt him first.
“It’s not right to give me hope and then take it away.” I breathed heavily, sweat dampening my temples as I wiped my palms against my tiny denim shorts. “It’s cruel actually.”
He watched me for a beat, his eyebrows pulling tight.
Dinners this past week had been frustrating but… somewhat amicable. Of course, that didn’t keep us from lashing out at the first opportunity. Like now.
“You’re right,” he rasped. “I’m sorry.”
My eyes widened. I tilted my head, studying his expression, but found nothing except sincerity in his eyes.
I dove off the side of the boat into the cool, crystal blue water that only came up to my knees, I waded through and made my way to the shore. The sand felt warm underneath my feet as I made my way to Kingston.
I stopped ten feet in front of him, the air crackling as we stared at each other. I often wondered what he saw when he looked at me. Just a broken woman? My twin? His enemy’s daughter? Or maybe I was his enemy?