The toothed puzzle pieces fit together when Sal’s lips press together, and he gazes at me with a sheen of gratitude. He’s loyal to the man who gave his sister a life. His mood simmers to somber, and he clears his throat. “We’ve got a shit ton of work to get through if you’d like the afternoon off.”
“Have you ever played trust fall?”
He lowers his lashes to the pages, pretending to study the roster. “I’m not good with heights. Getting in a helicopter is a huge deal.”
“Stand up. Come on. Emmie loves this one,” I encourage him with a wave of my hand. “Indulge me just this once.”
Raising a brow, he wheels out from under the desk. “It’s a kid’s game? My sister is eighteen, Iris. Those days have long passed.” He smirks.
I ignore his reluctance and grab both of his wrists. “Put your arms over your chest and let your palms rest on opposite shoulders. Then turn around.”
“Is this the part when you pull my trousers to my knees and push me, so I hit the floor with my ass in the air?”
Without thinking, a giggle fizzes in my heavy chest cavity and casts a lighter, carefree energy into the state-of-the-art medical facility. “Sal, it’s supposed to be fun. I’m not a bully.”
I laugh again when he clutches his belt and pretends to hold up his pants. “I’m not sure I like this game.”
“Humor me, Sal. I’ll keep my hands to myself and hold back from dragging down your trousers. As hard as that might be,” I joke.
“That definitely won’t happen, beija flor.”
I freeze. Sal spins around, facing me, but keeps his startled gaze past my shoulder. “Sir.” His crossed arms drop to his sides, and his spine goes stiff. “Do you need help with something?”
A glut of uncertain tingles race over my scalp and numb my fingertips. I take a breath and fight the instinct to greet Dante with a wide smile. As I turn around, bulky arms cross over a khaki T-shirt. “What’s going on?” His lips contort as if he’s quashing a barrage of verbal abuse. “You’re supposed to be working,” he snaps.
I shiver as Sal rushes behind the desk. “Sorry. We were having a five-minute break. It’s my fault, sir.”
“No.” I step forward. “It was me. Sal told me to clean cabin ten, and I asked him to try something before I left. That’s all.”
“Try what?”
“Nothing important. A childish game.”
“Which is?”
“Trust fall.”
“And that involves pulling his fucking pants down?”
I blow out a steadying breath when his hands visibly clench. “That was a joke. Trust fall is when you fall backward, and your partner catches you. My sister asked me to play it with her all the time.”
“Show me,” he grits out. I swallow hard and mirror his dominant stance. Sal’s chair squeaks when he sits behind us. “Do you trust me to catch you, beija flor?”
I turn cold with risk. Just as my veins run to ice, they switch to scalding at the prospect of tumbling into him. Enduring his commanding hands on my skin. Suffering his solid build next to mine. I gasp, aware of the heat painting my neck pink.
“Do you trust me to catch you?” I counter. His height alone is triple that of my sister.
He repositions his cap and stalks closer. His fresh scent taints the air and makes a fool of my willpower. Locks of inky hair teasing his nape remind me of how his wildness fed into mine. Tamed facial hair is trimmed and neat, so much so that my fingers itch to brush over his jaw and brave the wicked prickle.
“We’ll see.” His lips twitch. I desperately want to find his eyes, to connect with him beyond tinted plastic. In the daylight, Dante will remain el Fantasma. “Tell me what to do,” he adds.
I inhale before instructing him to cross his arms like I did with Sal. “Now turn your back to me. The aim is to let yourself go.” His shoulders jostle. “And trust that I’ll catch you.”
The request is like asking him to jump into a lake with famished crocodiles, then patiently wait for me to heave him to safety. He does a quick swivel in his boots. His shoulders rise, and he brings his ankles together in preparation. Beneath the cotton, I mentally trace the outline of his tattoo, following the contours of his backbone. The compulsion to touch him swells to intolerable. My belly flips, aching to travel my hands over the well-built landscape.
“I’ll take a few steps away, and then, on the count of three, close your eyes and lean backward.” This whole setup feels surreal. Will he really allow me to catch him? “One.”
On two, I creep behind him, closing the distance I usually put in place with Emmie. She loves the sensation of free falling, but with this man, I want him to know he can trust me without a doubt. A bristle of anticipation fires up my bold aura with his inflexible mistrust.
As the number three passes my lips, I sense his indecision. He rolls out the tautness in his shoulders and inclines into the barren void. When the tips of his boots peel off the floor tiles, his back immediately crashes into my chest. My arms wrap around his solid waist, and my injured cheek slams into his shoulder blade. He staggers a step until he’s steady, still encircled in my embrace.
I hold him tight.
Dante braces.
A quick second becomes painfully intoxicating. The unbalanced rhythm of his heartbeat thuds like jungle drums, inciting my own to dance around the flames of our unity.
For a glimpse of time, it feels like I’ve chipped away at his steely exterior. That we’ve stumbled onto common ground.
His voice echoes in his chest before he frees himself from my arms. “Get back to work.” His head turns to Sal. “I need a word with Jackson. Is he here?”
“Yes, sir. He’s through there.”
“Good.”
I urge to yank him into my chest again. To destroy this pretense and erupt with lust. Frustration gushes through my blood. I know I’m a fool. But there’s a darkness within me that longs for him to visit me at night. I’m the one who asked him to stay away. He’s the one keeping his word.
There’s no future for the king of the jungle and a woman who belongs in colder climates with intimacy and family bonds. I’ll forget the world for half a year, then I’ll return to my old life. And Dante will continue to exist in the wilderness with isolation and paid staff.
He marches to the hallway beyond the reception desk with a storm chasing his mood. When his footsteps fade, Sal slowly rotates his head with his mouth gaping and eyes wide. “What the fuck?” he mouths wordlessly.
“I need to go to the bathroom.” I ignore his shock.
“Hold on a second. What just happened,” he whispers. “What was that?”
“It was nothing.” My hand flies to my stomach. “A mutual hatred. A display of his authority.”
Sal’s lips twist. “No, Iris. He actually let you catch him. That wasn’t a show of his authority. That was faith. He basically gave you his trust. It was fucking unbelievable.” There’s a beat of silence where he gawks my flushed face. “I knew he liked you but this . . .”
“What do you mean, you knew he liked me? That’s news to me.”
“He rescued you, put you up in a guest cabin, watched over you while you were sick, and ordered everyone to treat you with the utmost respect, or he’d kill us all. Why do you think the men scarcely speak to you? They're scared he’ll put a bullet in their brains.”