“Understood,” he says. “I’ll make us coffee.” He releases me, leaving me cold where I was just hot, pushing off the bed, naked and perfect. “Answer the call, Myla,” he says, grabbing his sweats to pull them on.
“Right,” I say, inhaling and then I swipe to answer. “Good morning,” I greet Alvarez, turning to sit on the edge of the bed, and glancing at the clock by the bed that reads six am. “You’re very early this morning.”
“I have a flight this morning,” he says, while Kyle exits into the hallway. “You took so long to answer,” he adds, “but you sound wide awake.”
“I am awake and excited to start my day,” I say, cheerfully. “I was in the kitchen making coffee. This place is huge, Michael. It was like going to the corner coffee shop. It’s at least as large as the apartment in Denver you took me to last month.”
“But is it acceptable? Does it please you?”
“It’s beautiful with an amazing city view,” I say, relishing his affection for the tiny bit of safety it represents.
“But does it please you?”
“Of course, it pleases me. It’s just very empty. Are you able to join me sooner than next week?”
“Unfortunately, bella, I am not. I’m on a plane now actually, flying out today to an unexpected meeting for intense negotiations.” I do not miss how he leaves out the name of this “unexpected location”. “If it’s possible, I’ll fly you to me for the weekend, even if it’s only for a night.”
“Please try to come here,” I say, aware that my traveling to him would allow me to find out where he is, but should he get spooked, it might mean I disappear as well.
“You do not wish to come to me?”
“I really want you to see the designs I’ve shown you on paper in realized form and I honestly don’t want to leave right before the launch. I want it to go perfectly.”
He is quiet several thoughtful beats, in which I know he is questioning me, but then, this too is nothing new. He questions everyone, even me, and I know this spurs his need to dominate me, even punish me. “I would like to see your designs,” he finally says. “Take pictures of yourself in the dresses today and send them to me.”
“Yes,” I say. “That would be fun.”
“And the lingerie you’re wearing beneath them. I’ll send a photographer to your office.”
My throat almost closes and I delicately clear my throat. “I can’t do that at work,” I say and almost choking on the words, I add, “Can they come here this weekend? If you’re here, you can watch. If not, I can make you wish you’d come.”
“Ah, bella,” he says. “I will not make it to see you this way until the weekend. You can do this. I will send the photographer. I’ll arrange it. Now, I must go.” He lowers his voice and says something absolutely raunchy and disgusting to me in Spanish, before the line goes dead.
Grinding my teeth, I set the phone on the nightstand, my stupid hand trembling as I do, but I do not let myself sit here, where I will think and destroy myself. I stand up, the towel falling to the floor, the cold air rushing over my skin, and I am naked in so many ways right now that it’s impossible to comprehend. Suddenly, I just need a shirt to put on. I need Kyle’s shirt, and I twist around, noting the suitcase on the other side of the bed, by the living area rushing in that direction. Rolling it away from the couch, I lay it down, and settle on my knees, unzipping it and flipping open the lid, but instead of clothes, I find that arsenal of guns Kyle mentioned.
Inhaling, I reach for one of them, welcoming the cold, steel comfort a weapon will surely deliver. I choose a big one that requires two hands, one worthy of killing Michael Alvarez, the weight blissful in my hands, against my belly.
“Holy Mother of Jesus,” Kyle says from the doorway, setting the cups in his hands on the desk, his eyes wide. “This is one of the most confusing, erotic, disturbing – did I mention erotic? – sights I’ve ever seen.”
Only then do I fully register the fact that I’m holding a gun with my naked breasts on full display, my teeth scraping my bottom lip. “I was looking for a shirt.”
“Understood,” he says. “I always confuse shirts and guns, too. I’ll get you a shirt.” He walks to the closet to the right of the door, disappearing inside.
I set the gun back down and shut the case, standing and crossing the room to meet Kyle as he returns, a shirt in hand that he helps me pull over my head. “Thanks,” I say. “I was cold and just…naked.”
His hands come down on my shoulders and he pulls me to him. “What happened, sweetheart?” he asks, his voice soft, soothing, but somehow just the right kind of strong.
“He’s at some kind of airport,” I say, trying not to think about the photo shoot, and how many ways he could use those photos against me. “He’s leaving Honduras for another meeting.”
“As in right now?”
“Yes. He said he was on a plane getting ready to leave, but he normally uses private airstrips.”
“Is he coming here?”