The Dreaming Of... Collection. Оливия Гейтс
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rose inside him.
The need to deliver his own brand of justice grew stronger. Needing to turn up the heat, he stalked closer. ‘You mentioned your family,’ he started conversationally. ‘Do they know you’re a thief?’
Her colour receded a little more, her full lips firming just a tiny fraction. Satisfaction coursed through him.
‘Will they be prepared to lose everything they have in order to make reparations to the Santo Sierran people?’
She drew in a sharp breath. ‘This has nothing to do with my family.’
‘That’s where you’re wrong, Jasmine. You wronged my people, my family. It is only right that you and your family make the appropriate amends.’
‘No! Please—’
‘A simple phone call is all it would take to round them all up. Santo Sierra has extradition treaties with the United Kingdom—’
‘No. I meant what I said. It doesn’t have to come to that.’
‘So you would prefer me to leave your family out of this?’
Her lips worked for several tense seconds, which stretched to a full minute. Then a sigh of defeat escaped her parted lips. ‘Is it worth me saying anything else but that I would like you to leave my family alone?’
He took a deep breath. And smiled. ‘No.’
‘Then I’ll...come with you...wherever you want me to.’
He turned and walked out of the room. Jasmine set her cutlery down and tried to think through the roller-coaster speed of her thoughts. In the end, she could only hope she’d made the right decision.
* * *
Sunset bathed the hills in orange and red as their car climbed the roads leading to Reyes’s Spanish hacienda. Jasmine had long given up any hope of trying to memorise her whereabouts. All she knew was that they were somewhere deep in Northern Spain.
They’d long left behind the tourist traps and sandy beaches of Barcelona. Here the houses were few and far between, with occasional villages flashing past before she could take meaningful note of where she was.
Reyes sat beside her but he might as well have been thousands of miles away. A pair of designer sunglasses shielded his eyes from her and the phone he’d commandeered since boarding his plane remained glued to one ear.
From the snatches of conversation she’d heard, he was planning several more meetings with government ministers and his own council here in Spain.
Looking carefully, she could see the signs of strain around his mouth and the skin pulled taut over his cheekbones, but he was very much a man in command.
Sensing her scrutiny, he swivelled his head in her direction. A second later, he ended his call.
‘Where exactly are we going?’ she enquired.
‘To my estate in Zaragoza,’ he replied in a clipped tone.
‘And...how long will we be staying there?’
‘As long as it takes. If you have any aspirations of escape, kill them now.’
She clasped her hand in her lap, refusing to rise to his baiting. ‘My family will be worried if I don’t let them know how long I’ll be away,’ she tried to reason with him.
Her mother had been confused when she’d called to say she was taking a holiday and had no idea when she would be returning. Stephen had been even more difficult to convince. Jasmine had been avoiding him since her return from Rio, but she knew her stepfather suspected she’d had something to do with him being suddenly free of debt and the prospect of jail.
‘And you always strive to maintain the appearance of a dutiful daughter, do you?’ Scorn poured from Reyes, the naked censure in his voice stinging her skin. ‘Obviously, you’ve succeeded in pulling the wool over their eyes all these years.’
Jasmine bit back her retort to the contrary. It was because of her past that her mother worried when she didn’t hear from her daughter. The past she’d tried so hard to escape from but had stepped firmly back into with her one wrong decision in Rio.
Finding no adequate words to defend herself, she kept silent. With an impatient movement, Reyes ripped the glasses from his eyes and caught her chin in his hand. Jasmine found herself locked into his intense gaze.
‘Are you going to speak or do you intend to play mute?’ he asked.
‘I don’t really have anything to say to you.’
He folded the glasses and slipped them into his shirt pocket. ‘Your father, Stephen Nichols, works for the British government, does he not?’
His announcement startled her. His eyes held rigid ice that threatened to stop the blood flow in her veins. ‘He’s my stepfather, but how...what does that have to do with anything?’ Her instinct warned she wouldn’t like the path this conversation was taking.
‘I’m merely trying to form a picture in my head. And your mother...what does she do?’
Jasmine licked dry lips, her thoughts churning as she debated the wisdom of evading his questions. In the end, she decided withholding the information would serve no useful purpose. ‘She’s his PA.’
‘So to all intents and purposes, they’re both upstanding citizens?’ he asked, one dark eyebrow raised.
Her pulse increased as her gaze followed the graceful arch of his brow. Even when her eyes dropped to encounter his frozen regard, her pulse still thundered. Because deep inside, Jasmine knew his questions weren’t as innocuous as he’d couched them.
She tried not to let him see how much he riled her. ‘If you have a point, please state it.’
‘I’m just wondering how come you’ve strayed so far from the righteous path.’
She flinched. ‘I beg your pardon?’
His teeth bared in a semblance of a smile, but all it did was send a wave of dread over her. ‘I’m trying to understand you, querida. How a woman such as you, with a seemingly stable background and upbringing, ends up being a thief.’
‘You know nothing about me, except for an impression you think you got from us spending a few hours together. I can understand how what I did would colour your judgement, but that’s far from the whole picture.’
His face hardened. ‘I know you were instrumental in demolishing my country’s trade treaty. You don’t think that’s enough?’ he finished on a snarl.
Remembering how she’d felt when she saw the headline announcing the breakdown of talks, Jasmine slid her gaze from his. ‘I’m sorry. But technically, Mendez is also responsible—’
‘And since all evidence points to you working for Mendez, isn’t the conclusion the same?’ he sneered.
Her head snapped round to his. ‘No! You’re wrong. I don’t work for Mendez. I’ve never even met the man!’
‘Really? You work as a broker and a mediator, do you not?’
Puzzled, she nodded.
‘And over the past three years, your specialty has been in brokering agreements in Latin American companies?’
Her frown deepened in direct proportion to the escalation of her dread. ‘How do you know all this?’
He continued as if she hadn’t spoken. ‘When we met you told me you’d been watching the Santo-Valderran talks with interest.’
Jasmine found his reasoning difficult to comprehend. ‘And you think by interest I meant to sabotage it? For what purpose?’
‘What other purpose could there be aside from financial?’
‘Feel