Keep Me (4 page)

No bachelorette party with my friends at an all-male strip club.

I try to imagine how Julian might react to something like that, and an unexpected snicker escapes my lips. I have a strong suspicion those poor strippers would leave the club in body bags if I so much as ventured near them.

A knock on the door interrupts my semi-hysterical musings. The women rush to answer it, and I hear Julian speaking to them in Spanish. Turning toward me, they wave goodbye and quickly leave.

As soon as they’re gone, Julian enters the room.

Despite everything, I can’t help staring at him. Dressed in a crisp black tuxedo that hugs his tall, powerful frame to perfection, my husband-to-be is simply breathtaking. My mind flashes to our sex session on the plane, and wet heat gathers between my thighs even as my bruises begin to throb at the reminder. He’s studying me too, his gaze hot and proprietary as it moves over my body.

“Isn’t it bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the ceremony?” I inject as much sarcasm into my voice as I can, trying to ignore the effect he has on my senses. At this moment, I hate him almost as much as I love him, and the fact that I want to jump his bones bothers me to no small degree. I should be used to it by now, but I still find it disturbing, the way my brain and my body don’t communicate in his presence.

A small smile tugs at the corner of his sensual mouth. “It’s okay, my pet. I think you and I are past such concerns. Are you ready?”

I nod and walk toward him. There’s no point in delaying the inevitable; one way or another, we’re getting married today. Julian offers me his arm, and I loop my hand through the crook of his elbow, letting him lead me back into the beautiful room with the pulpit.

The priest is already waiting for us, as is Lucas. There is also a sizable camera sitting on top of a tall tripod.

“Is that for wedding pictures?” I ask in surprise, stopping in the entryway.

“Of course.” Julian’s eyes gleam at me. “Memories and all that good stuff.”

Uh-huh.
I can’t fathom why Julian wants this—the dress, the tux, the church. The entire thing is confusing to me. We’re not entering into a loving union; he’s simply binding me to him tighter, formalizing his ownership. All these accoutrements are meaningless, especially since Lucas is the only one who’ll witness the event.

The thought makes my chest ache again. “Julian,” I say quietly, looking up at him, “can I call my parents now? I want to tell them about this. I want to let them know I’m getting married.” I’m almost certain he will refuse my request, but I feel compelled to ask regardless.

To my surprise, he smiles at me. “If you wish, my pet. In fact, after you talk to them, they can watch our ceremony on a live video feed. Lucas can set that up for us.”

I gape at him in shock. He wants my parents to watch the wedding? To see
him
—the man who kidnapped their daughter? For a moment, I feel like I entered an alternate universe, but then the sheer genius of his plan dawns on me.

“You want me to introduce you to them, don’t you?” I whisper, staring at him. “You want me to tell them that I came with you of my own free will, to show them how happy we are together. Then you won’t have to worry about the authorities or anyone else coming after you. I’ll be just another girl who fell for a handsome, wealthy man and ran off with him. These pictures . . . that video . . . it’s all about staging a show . . .”

His smile widens. “How you act and what you say to them is entirely up to you, my pet,” he says silkily. “They can witness a joyous occasion, or you can tell them you were abducted again. It’s your choice, Nora. You can do whatever you wish.”

Her dark eyes are wide and unblinking as she stares at me, and I know exactly what her choice will be. As far as her parents are concerned, she’ll be the happiest bride in the world.

She’ll put on the best act of her life.

Anger and something else—something I don’t care to examine closely—churns in my gut at the thought. Rationally I understand her hesitation. I know what I am, what I have done to her. A smart woman would run as fast as she could—and Nora has always been smarter, more perceptive than most.

She’s also young. I forget that sometimes. In the comfortable world of middle-class America, few women get married at her age. It’s possible that marriage is not something she thought about yet; in fact, it’s likely, given that she had been in high school when I met her.

Rationally I understand all that . . . but rationality has nothing to do with the savage emotions seething under my skin. I want to string her up, whip her, and then fuck her until she’s raw and begging for mercy—until she admits that she’s mine, that she can’t fucking live without me.

I don’t do any of that, though. Instead I smile coolly and wait for her decision.

She inclines her head in a small nod. “All right.” Her voice is barely audible. “I’ll do it. I’ll tell them all about our love affair.”

I conceal my satisfaction. “As you wish, my pet. I’ll have Lucas set up a secure connection for you.”

And leaving her standing there, I walk over to Lucas to discuss the logistics of that specific operation.

* * *

I ask Padre Diaz to give us an hour before starting the ceremony and then sit down on one of the benches, giving Nora some privacy to talk to her parents. Of course, I’m monitoring her conversation through a little bluetooth device in my ear, but she doesn’t need to know that.

Leaning back against the wall, I get comfortable and prepare to be entertained.

Her mother picks up on the first ring.

“Hi Mom . . . it’s me.” Nora’s voice is cheerful and upbeat, practically brimming with excitement. I stifle a smile; she’s going to be even better at this than I thought.

“Nora, honey!” Gabriela Leston’s voice is filled with relief. “I’m so glad you called. I tried calling you five times today, but your phone kept going to voicemail. I was about to go over there in person—oh, wait, what number are you calling from?”

“Mom, don’t freak out, but I’m not at home, okay?” Nora’s tone is soothing, but I wince internally. I don’t know much about normal parents, but I’m pretty sure saying the words ‘don’t freak out’ ensures that they do exactly that.

“What do you mean?” Her mother’s voice immediately sharpens. “Where are you?”

Nora clears her throat. “Um, I’m in Colombia, actually.”

“WHAT?” I flinch at the earsplitting shout. “What do you mean, you’re in Colombia?”

“Mom, you don’t understand, it’s great news . . .” And Nora launches into an explanation of how we had fallen in love on the island, how devastated she had been when she’d thought I was dead—and how ecstatic she was to learn that I’m alive.

After she’s done, there is only silence on the phone. “Are you telling me that you’re with him now?” her mother finally asks, her voice hoarse and strained. “That he came back for you?”

“Yes, exactly.” Nora’s tone is jubilant. “Don’t you see, Mom? I couldn’t really talk to you about any of this before because it was too difficult—because I thought I’d lost him. But now we’re together again, and there’s something . . . something
amazing
that I have to tell you.”

“What is it?” Her mother sounds understandably wary.

“We’re getting married!”

There is another long silence on the other end of the line. Then: “You’re getting married . . . to
him
?”

I suppress another smile as Nora starts trying to convince her mother that I am not as bad as they think—that it was a combination of unfortunate circumstances that resulted in her kidnapping and that things are very different between us now. I’m not sure if Gabriela Leston is buying this, but she doesn’t really need to. The recording of this conversation will be distributed to key individuals in certain government agencies, helping soothe their ruffled feathers. I’m too valuable for them to fuck with, but it still doesn’t hurt to play along. Perception is everything, and Nora as my wife is much more palatable to them than Nora as my captive.

I could’ve married her earlier, but I was trying to keep her hidden, keep her safe. That’s why I abducted her and took her to my island: so no one would find out about her existence and her importance to me. Now that the secret is out, however, I want the entire world to know that she’s mine—that if they dare touch her, they will pay. News of my vendetta against Al-Quadar is starting to filter through the sewers of the underworld, and I’ve made sure that the rumors are even more brutal than the reality.

It’s those rumors that will keep Nora’s family safe—that and the security detail I put on her parents. It’s unlikely anyone would try to get to me through my in-laws—I’m not exactly known as a family man—but I am not taking any chances. The last thing I want is for Nora to grieve for her parents the way she’s still grieving for Beth.

By the time Nora is wrapping up her conversation, Padre Diaz starts getting impatient. I give him a warning look, and he immediately stops fidgeting, all visible traces of annoyance fading from his features. The good Padre has known me since I was a boy, and he knows when he should exercise caution.

When I glance in Nora’s direction again, she waves to me, motioning for me to approach. I get up and walk over to her, turning off my bluetooth device on the way. As I get close, I hear her saying, “Listen, Mom, let me introduce you to him, okay? I’ll ask him to put us on video—that way it’ll be almost like we’re all meeting in person . . . Yeah, we’ll connect with you in a couple of minutes.” And hanging up, she looks up at me expectantly.

“Lucas.” I barely raise my voice, but he’s already there, carrying a laptop with a secure connection. Placing it on a windowsill, he props it up so that the little camera points at us. A minute later, the video call is established, and Gabriela Leston’s face fills the screen. Tony Leston—Nora’s father—is behind her. Both pairs of dark eyes immediately turn toward me, studying me with a peculiar mix of hostility and curiosity.

“Mom, Dad, this is Julian,” Nora says softly, and I incline my head with a small smile. Lucas walks back to the other end of the room, leaving us alone.

“It’s very nice to meet you both.” I purposefully keep my voice cool and steady. “I’m sure Nora has already filled you in on everything. I apologize for the speed with which this is happening, but I would love it if you could be a part of our wedding. I know it would mean a great deal to Nora to have her parents present, even if it is remotely.” There is nothing I can say to the Lestons to justify my actions or make them like me, so I don’t even try. Nora is mine now, and they will have to learn to accept that fact.

Nora’s father opens his mouth to say something, but his wife elbows him sharply. “All right, Julian,” she says slowly, staring at me with eyes eerily similar to her daughter’s. “So you are marrying Nora. May I ask where you’re going to be living after that, and whether we’re going to see her again?”

I smile at her. Another smart, intuitive woman. “For the first few months, we’ll probably be here, in Colombia,” I explain, keeping my tone light and friendly. “There are certain business matters that I have to take care of. After that, however, we’d be more than happy to come for a visit—or to have you visit us.”

Gabriela nods. “I see.” The tension on her face remains, though relief briefly flickers in her eyes. “And what about Nora’s future plans? What about college?”

“I will make sure she gets a good education and has a chance to pursue her art.” I give the Lestons a level look. “Of course, I’m sure you realize that Nora doesn’t need to worry about money anymore
. N
either do you. I am more than comfortable, financially, and I always take care of my own.”

Tony Leston’s eyes narrow with anger. “You can’t buy our daughter—” he starts saying, only to be elbowed into silence again by his wife. Nora’s mother clearly has a better grasp on the situation; she realizes that this conversation could just as easily not be happening.

I lean closer to the camera. “Tony, Gabriela,” I say quietly, “I understand your concern. However, in less than a half hour, Nora will be my wife—my responsibility. I can assure you that I will take care of her and do my best to ensure her happiness. You have nothing to worry about.”

Tony’s jaw tightens, but he remains silent this time. It’s Gabriela who speaks next. “We would appreciate it if we could talk to her on a regular basis,” she says evenly. “To make sure she’s as happy as she seems today.”

“Of course.” I have no problem making that concession. “Now, the ceremony is starting in a few minutes, so we need to set up a better video feed for you. It was a pleasure meeting you both,” I say politely, then close the laptop.

Turning, I see Nora watching me with some bemusement. In the long white dress and with her hair all done, she looks like a princess—which I suppose makes me the evil dragon stealing her away.

Inexplicably amused by the thought, I lift my hand and run my fingers down her baby-soft cheek. “Are you ready, my pet?”

“Yes, I think so,” she murmurs, staring up at me. They did something to her eyes, those women I hired, making her eyes seem even larger and more mysterious. Her mouth also looks softer and shinier than usual, utterly fuckable. A sharp surge of lust catches me off-guard, and I force myself to take a step back before I do something sacrilegious at my own wedding.

“The video is all set up,” Lucas informs me, coming up to us.

“Thank you, Lucas,” I say. Then, turning toward Nora, I take her hand and lead her toward Padre Diaz.

The ceremony itself takes only about twenty minutes. Cognizant of the camera trained on us, I smile widely and do my best to look like a happy, glowing bride.

I still don’t fully understand my own reluctance. After all, I’m marrying the man I love. When I thought he was dead, I wanted to die myself, and it took all of my strength to survive from one day to the next. I don’t want to be with anyone but Julian . . . and yet I can’t shake the chill deep inside.

He handled my parents smoothly, I will give him that. I’m not sure what I had been expecting, but the calm, almost civil conversation that took place hadn’t been it. He had been in control the entire time, his matter-of-fact attitude leaving no room for tearful accusations and recriminations. He had apologized for the rushed wedding, but not for abducting me in the first place—and I know it’s because he feels no guilt about that. In his mind, he has a right to me. It’s as simple as that.

After a lengthy speech in Spanish, Padre Diaz begins speaking to Julian. I catch a few words—something about spouse, love, protection—and then I hear Julian’s deep voice responding “Sí, quiero.”

It’s my turn next. Looking up at Julian, I meet his gaze. There is a warm smile on his lips, but his eyes tell a different story. His eyes reflect hunger and need, and underneath it all, a dark, all-consuming possessiveness.

“Sí, quiero,” I say quietly, repeating Julian’s words.
Yes, I do. Yes, I want.
My rudimentary Spanish is good enough to translate that at least.

Julian’s smile deepens. Reaching into his pocket, he takes out another ring—a slim, diamond-studded band that matches my engagement ring—and slides it onto my nerveless finger. Then he presses a platinum band into my palm and extends his left hand to me.

His palm is almost twice the size of mine, his fingers long and masculine. He has a man’s hands
—
strong and roughened with calluses. Hands that can pleasure or hurt with equal ease.

Taking a deep breath, I slide the wedding band onto Julian’s left ring finger and look up at him again, only half-listening as Padre Diaz concludes the ceremony. Staring at Julian’s beautiful features, all I can think about is that it’s done.

The man who kidnapped me is now my husband.

* * *

After the ceremony, I say goodbye to my parents, assuring them that I will speak to them again soon. My mom is crying, and my dad is wearing a stony expression that usually means he’s extremely upset.

“Mom, Dad, I promise I’ll be in contact,” I tell them, trying to hold back my own tears. “I won’t disappear on you again. Everything is going to be fine. You have nothing to worry about . . .”

“I promise she will call you very soon,” Julian adds, and after a few more tearful goodbyes, Lucas disconnects the video feed.

The next half hour is spent taking pictures all over the beautiful church. Then we change back into our regular clothes and head back to the airport.

At this point, it’s evening and I’m completely exhausted. The stress of the past couple of hours, combined with all the travel, has made me nearly comatose, and I close my eyes, leaning back against the black leather seat as the car winds its way through the dark streets of Bogotá. I don’t want to think about anything; I just want to empty my mind and relax. Shifting, I try to find a better position, one that doesn’t place too much weight on my still-tender bottom.

“Tired, baby?” Julian murmurs, placing his hand on my leg. His fingers squeeze lightly, massaging my thigh, and I force my heavy eyelids to open.

“A bit,” I admit, turning toward him. “I’m not used to this much flying—or marrying.”

He grins at me, his teeth flashing white in the darkness. “Well, luckily you won’t have to go through this experience again. The marrying, I mean. I can’t promise anything about the flying.”

Maybe I’m overly tired, but that strikes me as ridiculously funny for some reason. A giggle escapes my throat, first one, then another, until I’m laughing uncontrollably, all but rolling on the backseat of the car.

Julian watches me calmly, and when my laughter finally begins to quiet down, he pulls me into his lap and kisses me, claiming my mouth with a long, fierce kiss that literally steals my breath away. By the time he lets me come up for air, I can barely remember my own name, much less what I was laughing about before.

We’re both panting, our breath intermingling as we stare at each other. There’s hunger in his gaze, but there’s also something more—an almost violent longing that goes deeper than simple lust. A strange tightness squeezes my chest, and I feel like I’m falling further, losing even more of myself. “What do you want from me, Julian?” I whisper, lifting my hand to cradle the hard contours of his jaw. “What do you need?”

He doesn’t answer, but his large hand covers mine, holding it pressed against his face for a few moments. He closes his eyes, as though absorbing the sensation, and when he opens them, the moment is gone.

Shifting me off his lap, he drapes a heavy arm over my shoulders and settles me comfortably against his side. “Get some rest, my pet,” he murmurs into my hair. “We still have a ways to go before we get home.”

* * *

I fall asleep on the plane again, so I have no idea how long the flight is. Julian shakes me awake after we land, and I follow him sleepily off the plane.

Warm, humid air hits me as soon as we disembark, so thick it feels like a damp blanket. Bogotá had been much warmer than Chicago, with the temperature somewhere in the high sixties, but this . . . this feels like I stepped into a wet sauna. With my winter boots and a fleece sweater, I feel like I’m being cooked alive.

“Bogotá is at a much higher elevation,” Julian says, as though reading my mind. “Down here, it’s tierra caliente—the low-elevation hot zone.”

“Where are we?” I ask, waking up a bit more. I can hear the chirping of insects, and the smell in the air is that of lush green vegetation, of the tropics. “Which part of the country, I mean?”

“The southeast,” Julian replies, leading me toward an SUV waiting on the other side of the runway. “We’re actually right on the edge of the Amazon rainforest.”

I lift my hand to rub at the corner of my eye. I don’t know much about Colombian geography, but that sounds very remote to me. “Are we near some villages or towns?”

“No,” Julian says. “That’s the beauty of this location, my pet. We’re completely isolated and safe. Nobody will bother us here.”

We reach the car, and he helps me inside. Lucas joins us a couple of minutes later, and then we’re off, driving down an unpaved road through a heavily wooded area.

It’s pitch-black outside, the headlights of the car our only source of illumination, and I peer curiously through the darkness, trying to discern our destination. All I can see, however, are trees and more trees.

Abandoning that futile effort, I decide to get more comfortable instead. It’s cooler in the car with the air conditioning working full-blast, but I’m still too hot, so I take off my sweater. Thankfully, I’m wearing a tank top underneath. As the chilly air blows across my heated skin, I sigh with relief, fanning myself to accelerate the cooling process.

“I have clothes for you here that are more weather-appropriate,” Julian says, observing my actions with a half-smile. “I probably should’ve thought to bring them with me, but I was far too eager to retrieve you.”

“Oh?” I glance at him, absurdly pleased by his admission.

“I came after you as soon as I could,” he murmurs, his eyes gleaming in the dark interior of the car. “You didn’t think I’d leave you alone for long, did you?”

“No, I didn’t,” I say softly. And it’s the truth. If there’s one thing I’ve always been sure of, it’s that Julian wants me. I’m not sure if he loves me—if he’s capable of loving anyone—but I’ve never doubted the strength of his desire for me. He risked his life for me back at that warehouse, and I know he would do so again. It’s a certainty that goes bone-deep and fills me with a peculiar sense of comfort.

Closing my eyes, I lean back against the seat with another sigh. The dichotomy of my emotions makes my head hurt. How can I be upset with Julian for forcing me to marry him and at the same time be glad that he couldn’t wait to abduct me again? What sane person feels that way?

“We’ve arrived,” Julian says, interrupting my musings, and I open my eyes, realizing that the car had stopped.

In front of us is a sprawling two-story mansion surrounded by several smaller structures. Bright outdoor lights illuminate everything in the vicinity, and I can see wide green lawns and lush, meticulously maintained landscaping. Julian wasn’t exaggerating when he called this place an estate.

I can also see some of the security measures, and I gaze around curiously as Julian helps me out of the car and leads me toward the main building. On the far edges of the property, there are towers spaced a few dozen yards apart, with armed men visible at the top of each one.

It’s almost as if we’re in prison, except that these guards are meant to keep the bad people out, not in.

“You grew up here?” I ask Julian as we approach the house. It’s a beautiful white building with stately columns at the front. It reminds me a bit of Scarlett O’Hara’s plantation from
Gone with the Wind
.

“I did.” He shoots me a sidelong glance. “I spent most of my time here until I was about seven or eight. After that, I was usually in the cities with my father, helping him with business.”

After we walk up the porch steps, Julian stops at the doorway and bends down to lift me into his arms. Before I can say anything, he carries me over the threshold, setting me back on my feet once we’re inside. “No reason why we can’t observe this little tradition,” he murmurs with a mischievous grin, maintaining his hold on my sides as he looks down at me.

My lips twitch in an answering smile. I can never resist Julian when he’s being playful like this. “Ah, yes, I forgot that you’re Mr. Traditional today,” I tease, purposefully trying not to think about the forced nature of our marriage. It’s important for my sanity to keep the good times separate from the bad, to live in the moment as much as possible. “And here I thought you just felt like picking me up.”

“I did,” he admits, his grin widening. “It’s the first time my inclinations and tradition have coincided, though, so why don’t we go with ‘observing tradition’?”

“I’m game,” I say softly, gazing up at him. In this moment, my mind is firmly in the ‘good times’ camp, and I would gladly go along with anything he wants, do anything he wants.

“Señor Esguerra?” An uncertain female voice interrupts us, and I turn to see a middle-aged woman standing there. She’s wearing a black short-sleeved dress, with a white apron wrapped around her rounded frame. “Everything is ready, just as you requested,” she says in accented English, watching us with barely restrained curiosity. “Should I serve you dinner?”

“No, thank you, Ana,” Julian replies, his hand resting possessively on my hip. “Just bring a tray with some sandwiches to our room, please. Nora is tired from our travels.” Then he looks down at me. “Nora, this is Ana, our housekeeper. Ana, this is Nora, my wife.”

Ana’s brown eyes widen. Apparently the ‘wife’ bit is as much of a shock to her as it had been to me. She recovers quickly, though. “Very pleased to meet you, Señora,” she says, giving me a wide smile. “Welcome.”

“Thank you, Ana. It’s nice to meet you too.” I smile back, ignoring the sharp pain squeezing my chest. This housekeeper is nothing like Beth, but I can’t help thinking of the woman who had become my friend—and of her cruel, pointless death.

No, don’t go there, Nora.
The last thing I need is to wake up screaming from another nightmare.

“Please make sure we’re not disturbed tonight,” Julian instructs Ana, “unless it’s something urgent.”

“Yes, Señor,” she murmurs, and disappears through the wide double doors leading out of the entryway area.

“Ana is one of the staff here,” Julian explains as he guides me toward a wide, curved staircase. “She’s been with my family in one capacity or another for most of her life.”

“She seems very nice,” I say, studying my new home as we walk up the stairs. I’ve never been inside such a lavish residence, and I can hardly believe I’m going to be living here. The decor is a tasteful mix of old-fashioned charm and modern elegance, with gleaming wooden floors and abstract art on the walls. I suspect the gilded picture frames alone are more expensive than anything I had in my studio apartment back home. “How many people are on the staff?”

“There are two who always take care of the house,” Julian answers. “Ana, whom you’ve just met, and Rosa, who’s the maid. You’ll probably meet her tomorrow. There are also several gardeners, handymen, and others who oversee the property as a whole.” Pausing in front of one of the doors upstairs, he opens it for me. “Here we are. Our bedroom.”

Our bedroom.
That has a very domestic ring to it. On the island, I had my own room, and even though Julian slept with me most nights, it still felt like my private space—something I apparently wouldn’t have here.

Stepping inside, I cautiously survey the bedroom.

Like the rest of the house, it has an opulent, old-fashioned feel to it, despite several modern touches. There is a thick blue rug on the floor, and a massive four-poster bed in the center. Everything is done in shades of blue and cream, with some gold and bronze mixed in. The drapes covering the windows are thick and heavy, like in a luxury hotel, and there are a few more abstract paintings on the walls.

It’s beautiful and intimidating, like the man who is now my husband.

“Why don’t we take a bath?” Julian says softly, stepping up behind me. His powerful arms fold around me, his fingers reaching for my belt buckle. “I think we could both use one.”

“Sure, that sounds good,” I murmur, letting him undress me. It makes me feel like a doll—or maybe a princess, given our surroundings. As Julian tugs off my shirt and pushes down my jeans, his hands brush against my bare skin, causing tingles of heat to ripple down to my core.