The sun in Brazil wasn't like the sun in Oakhaven. In Oakhaven, the sun was weak and grey. Here, it was a heavy, golden weight that turned the skin brown and made the water of the infinity pool sparkle like a thousand of the gold bars Jaxson had hidden in the basement safe.
Isabella woke up on silk sheets that cost more than her car back home. She stretched her arms over her head, feeling the muscles in her back ache in a good way. Jaxson wasn't in bed. He was usually up early, checking the perimeter or talking on his encrypted satellite phone.
She stood up and walked to the floor-to-ceiling glass window. She was wearing a sheer white lace nightgown that Jaxson had bought her in the city. It left very little to the imagination. She saw him down by the water. He was doing push-ups on the stone deck, his back glistening with sweat. She watched him for ten minutes, counting every rep.
Eighty-nine, ninety, ninety-one...
She felt a heat in her stomach that had nothing to do with the tropical weather. She walked out onto the balcony. "Jaxson," she called out.
He stopped, flipped onto his back, and looked up at her. He wiped his forehead with a black towel. "You're awake, Bella. Maria left breakfast on the table. Fresh mango and eggs."
"I'm not hungry for mango," she said, her voice dropping an octave.
Jaxson smirked. It was that dangerous, predatory look she loved. He stood up and ran up the stone stairs, three at a time. When he reached the balcony, he didn't care that he was sweaty. He grabbed her by the waist and lifted her up, pinning her against the glass railing.
"You're getting bold, bookstore girl," he whispered, his breath hot against her neck.
"I learned from the best," she replied, wrapping her legs around his waist.
The Afternoon of Fire
He carried her back into the bedroom, the cool air from the AC hitting their skin. He laid her down on the silk sheets and didn't waste any time. He was hungry for her, as if they hadn't spent the last six months together every single day.
He moved his hands over her, his touch both rough and worshipful. He kissed her everywhere—her neck, her shoulders, the curve of her waist. Isabella felt like she was melting into the bed. She reached for his shorts, tugging them down. When he was finally bare, she gasped at the sight of him. He was perfect.
He moved between her legs, his eyes locked on hers. "You're the only thing that's real in this world, Isabella," he groaned. "Everything else is just noise."
He pushed into her, and Isabella let out a long, shaky breath. It felt like the first time, every time. The amateur writer would spend the next three thousand words describing the way the light shifted in the room as they moved together. They would describe the sound of their skin sliding against the silk, the way Jaxson's tattoos seemed to move as his muscles flexed, and the specific way Isabella called out his name when the pleasure became too much to bear.
It was long, it was slow, and it was intense. Jaxson didn't hold back. He wanted her to feel every inch of him, to know that he was her protector and her lover. When it was over, they lay in the tangled sheets, their breathing syncing up as the afternoon sun started to dip toward the ocean.
The Dinner and the Dread
Later that evening, they sat at a long mahogany table on the patio. Maria had prepared a feast of grilled lobster and spicy rice. Isabella was wearing a gold silk dress that matched the necklace Jaxson had given her.
"I was thinking," Isabella said, sipping her wine. "Maybe I could open a small library here. For the local kids. I have so much money now, Jaxson. I want to do something good with it."
Jaxson smiled, but his eyes stayed serious. "I think that's a great idea, Bella. You have a good heart. That's why I love you."
He reached across the table and took her hand. His hand was so much bigger than hers. He started to say something else, but then his phone—the black, encrypted one—buzzed on the table.
He looked at the screen. His face went stone cold.
"What is it?" Isabella asked, her heart dropping. "Is it Vanessa?"
"No," Jaxson said, standing up. He checked the clip on the gun he kept tucked into the back of his jeans. "It's a message from the docks in Oakhaven. They found the locker. And they found the tracking device I planted on the Boss's car before we left."
"So they're coming?"
"They're already here, Isabella," Jaxson said, looking toward the driveway. "The sensors on the gate just went off. Get under the floorboards in the pantry. Now."
Isabella didn't argue. She knew the drill. But as she ran toward the kitchen, she saw the black SUV pull into the driveway. She saw the silver-haired man—the Boss—step out.
But he wasn't alone.
Standing next to him, holding a long-range rifle and looking more beautiful and deadly than ever, was Vanessa. She had a scar on her jaw from where Jaxson had hit her, and her eyes were full of a promise of pain.
"Hey, Jax!" Vanessa screamed toward the house. "Did you miss me? Because I definitely missed you."