Surrender (The Command Series Book 3) (8 page)

She heeded his warning. The smart girl wasn’t at breakfast the next morning, or at lunch. She didn’t go on the morning drive, and Giovanni had been visibly annoyed when she didn’t appear for the afternoon one. Thankfully he had no luck with poachers this time around, but it made the Italian fidget in the Land Cruiser, antsy for the rush and power of controlling another’s life.

Ethan’s office had turned up little info on Amin. A low-level warlord from central Africa eager to make a name for himself. It was an odd partnership for the Abramos. Their dealings up until now had been exclusive to Europe. What would make Vitale want to branch out to Africa? It didn’t make sense.

They unloaded from the vehicle at the front of the lodge, and as soon as Giovanni’s shoes hit the dirt, he was scouring the place for Olivia. If he couldn’t get his main fix, he’d settle for the other.

She stood in the shade of the veranda, deep in discussion with her Scottish co-pilot, and as Ethan made his silent approach, he tried not to evaluate how good her silhouette looked when she was backlit by the bright sun glaring beyond the roof.

“Olivia?”

She turned to face him, startled by his arrival. Those deep, perceptive eyes scanned him critically, but the hard expression vanished from her face when she noticed Giovanni alongside. She was guarded and cautious.

“Tell the other pilot to leave,” Giovanni ordered.

“Can you excuse us for a moment?” Ethan said to the Scotsman. “Mr. Abramo wants a word with the captain.”

Even though the air around the men was open, the unease in Ethan was thick and suffocating. The co-pilot nodded and stepped away, casting a final, worried look to Olivia.

“Tell her to meet me for drinks at the bar after I’ve eaten dinner.”

Damn it.
Ethan turned his attention to her. “Giovanni—”

“Gio,” he corrected, annoyed.

“Gio would like you to join him for drinks.”

Her gaze flitted between the men, hesitant. “Remind him I’m seeing someone.”

It was too late for that. “I can, but he’ll be offended if you refuse.”

She put a hand on her hip, her body language full of indifference. “Oh, well.”

The instant need to protect her was so disorienting, it just happened. “You will say yes to this.” The word sprang from his mouth, feeling alien. “Please.”

She shifted again, probably startled that he was asking her to do exactly what he’d been telling her not to. “Why?”

“Because he won’t handle the rejection well,” Ethan said, his voice filled with dread, “and I don’t know what he’ll do to you.”

-6-

Olivia swiped her eyelashes with mascara a second time and tried to keep her hand steady.

This whole thing was ridiculous. She was putting on makeup so she could have drinks with a man she had no interest in. It was a lie, of course. She was putting on makeup for the dangerous man that translated for their boss. She wasn’t sure what angle Nathan was playing. Maybe he was doing important work, but her petty, wounded pride wanted to show him what a fool he was to pass her up.

She was confident she could outplay Gio. She was a survivor.

The sky was painted in oranges and yellows at sunset, and the dust kicked up in the breeze as she followed the thin path to the main lodge. The soil beneath her shoes was pale, dirty sand that was so fine it was like powder. So different from the black earth she was used to back in America.

Frances waited just inside the lodge lobby and beamed a warm smile to Olivia. The Swede made quite a pair with her husband, Phillip. Did she know what her husband had witnessed on the game drive yesterday? As she’d escorted Olivia back to her room, Frances had seemed oblivious, but there were bullet holes in the side of the Land Cruiser.

Her footsteps fell lightly on the wood plank floor that had been polished to a brilliant finish, leading Olivia through the lodge to the bar. It looked different in the fading sunlight, less intimate than last night. The men were already seated and rose when she stepped up to the bar to join them. Her breath caught at the sight of Nathan. He wore tan pants and a thin, dark green sweater, with the gun in its shoulder holster over that. Not even bothering to hide it, but then again, why would he? The patrolling escorts carried guns in plain view. Nathan had shaved and his dark hair was tousled, almost as if it had been casually styled. Like he’d made an effort. Oh, holy hell, he was a beautiful man, and she cursed her pulse for quickening at the sight of him.

His eyes drifted down her body, taking in the ivory-colored top with sheer sleeves and fitted black slacks. He looked like he was assessing her for a threat, but for all of his acting, she could see right through it. His gaze had nothing to do with his job, and everything to do with the other night. The corners of her mouth crept up into a smile. He liked what he saw, even though he didn’t want to.

Gio wore a black, tailored button-down shirt, with the top two buttons undone, over a pair of jeans, and his not so subtle cologne wafted in the air conditioning, overpowering her. He tried too hard to achieve a look of casual ease. His dark eyes scoured her body, lingering on her breasts, and he too approved of her appearance. Nathan had done it in a subtle, sexy way, but Gio’s leering gaze left her wanting a shower.

“He ordered wine for you,” Nathan said.

The large wineglass was half-full of a dark red. She hated red, but squeezed out a smile, turning to Gio. “
Grazie.”

The Italian began immediately from Gio, and whatever he said gave Nathan pause. His focus returned to her, his voice softening. “You look beautiful this evening.”

The sharp breath she drew in was involuntary. Once again, she was betting these words hadn’t come from Gio, at least not the way they were delivered, and even if they had, they still wouldn’t have held the effect they did coming from Nathan. God, this was going to be awkward.

“Thank you. Is that how he said it?”

“Not exactly, but I don’t feel the need to repeat it.” His eyes were deep, dark, and there was a pull to them that was impossible to resist. He didn’t need to clean up what Gio was saying—she was certain she’d heard worse—but his desire to do so filled her with unexpected warmth.

The Italian spoke, snapping the moment between them. “He said, how do you like working for my family?”

She pasted a smile on. “You travel a lot, and that keeps me busy.”

“He wants to know how you ended up in Italy.”

She took a sip of her wine to disguise her discomfort. “I grew up unaware of the rest of the world. Now that I’ve seen some of it, I’d like to see the rest.”

Gio’s full lips pulled back, exposing a too-white smile. “He said, have you learned that Italy is the most beautiful country yet?”

“I haven’t seen much of Italy besides the airport. Like I said, your family keeps me busy.”

Nathan hesitated. “He asked if you’re interested in staying busy long-term.”

Her mouth went dry, but she managed to speak. “Tell him thank you, and that I’d like to think about it.” A complete lie, which she was sure Nathan could see, but it appeared to please Gio.

The stilted conversation continued as her boss finished his glass of wine and ordered another. He eyed Olivia’s barely touched drink, getting her to choke down a swallow. She didn’t want to talk with Gio. She wanted to know about the man standing beside him, and although it was probably a bad idea to make him part of the conversation, she did it anyway. “Nathan, how many languages do you speak?”

He quickly masked his surprise, perhaps deciding whether or not to share. “Eight.”

She wanted to ask him which ones. Really, she wanted to hear him speak all of them, but just listening to his version of her words in Italian was delicious torture. God, she needed to get a grip. His rejection of her had somehow made him more desirable.

Talking to Nathan directly ruffled Gio. He said something with his uncomfortable gaze set on her.

“He’s asked about your boyfriend. Is he American?”

“Sure.”

Nathan’s eyes clouded over at delivering Gio’s next question. “Do you find American lovers can satisfy you?”

Holding back the smug look was difficult, but she managed. “Yeah, most of the time.”

“How many lovers have you had?”

She bristled at the direct question. “Not a lot, but enough to know what I like.”

That failed to draw a reaction from Nathan. “He wants to know about your accommodations. If you’re lonely in that cabin by yourself.”

Her mouth raced ahead of her brain. “I was the other night, wasn’t I?”

There was the reaction. A stunned Nathan was the most beautiful version of all. His gaze darted away. “Is that what you want me to tell him?” It came out sounding unhappy, maybe angry. “Do you want him to come back to your room?”

Was he worried about her safety or was there something else that made him dislike the idea of her sleeping with Gio? Because if it was jealousy, that made no freaking sense.

“No. I’m not interested in him.” Her interest was squarely on the American. Yeah, it would probably be a mistake if she slept with Nathan, but so what? It was just sex, and yes, she was lonely. She’d felt alone ever since . . . She felt alone all the time now.

“Tell him I’m a lesbian.”

“
Lesbica
?” Gio looked thrilled. Of course that was an English word he’d recognize.

“No, signore,”
she said to him directly. “Tell him I was kidding.”

The two men went back and forth in discussion, and since she couldn’t understand it, her eyes drifted out to the landscape beyond the window where the light was almost gone but she could still make out a herd of elephants in the distance on the bank of the river.

A buzzing drew her attention. Gio’s phone.

“Mi scusi.
” He answered it and disappeared from the room, leaving her alone with Nathan and the bartender who polished glasses in the corner.

“I’ll tell him you’re sick when he gets back.”

She groaned. “I can’t just avoid him the whole trip, there are only four of us at this damn resort. Seriously, I’ve got this.”

Nathan’s intense expression felt like hitting an air pocket. “He expects you to sleep with him.” He gently set his calloused hand on her arm, which lingered on the edge of the bar.

“He’s going to be disappointed. I already told you,” her breathing was rushed, “that he’s not who I’m interested in.”

His hand remained, tingling on her skin as she fought back the urge to latch onto it. “The other night . . .” he started.

No. She didn’t want to hear the
“what a mistake”
speech now, the one he’d been gearing up for her since the fuel truck yesterday. “Shit, don’t—”

“I wish things were
different.”

His gaze swung away, a frown on his face, but she could tell his displeasure was self-directed. Information he didn’t want to reveal. It made her want to pull him into a kiss full of longing and desire, one that would have had them hurrying together to her cabin, or perhaps his, since it was closer. But Nathan retreated when approaching footsteps rang out.

“Vodka,” Gio announced to the bartender, gesturing to her and himself. Then he said something to Nathan that sounded like a dismissal.

The tall American nodded, and as he passed her to leave, he whispered, “Bathroom.”

“Vodka?” she asked Gio. She wasn’t about to get drunk around a guy wanting to seduce her, and certainly not her boss. Plus, what if Gio suddenly decided he wanted to leave in the middle of the night like Vitale often did? She felt like she was always on standby with the Abramo family.

“Si, bella.”
Gio snatched the shot glass up when the bartender finished pouring it, waiting impatiently for her to do the same, so he could clink the glass with hers.
“Salute.”

It burned all the way down and lingered in the back of her throat. She hadn’t even set the glass on the table before he motioned for a refill.
“No, grazie. Uno.”
She glanced around. “
Bagno
?”

He waved a hand to the door.

Nathan’s dark form leaned against the wall, and he straightened when he spotted her. His emotionless mask was nowhere to be found. Instead, his face was streaked with concern. “Several women have gone missing after spending the night with him.”

Her heart lurched and thudded faster. “You’re worried he’s going to kill me?”

“Yes. Take this, put it in your pocket.”

There was no time to refuse. Something plastic and bottle-shaped was pressed into her hand, like a mini-bottle of alcohol they served on commercial flights, only this bottle was even smaller. Her fingers curled around it and she followed his order.

“He can’t try to kill me,” she said. “I’m his goddamn pilot.”

Nathan’s gaze was sharp. “He’s impulsive and not much of a thinker, and it only takes one pilot to fly that plane.” Again, Nathan set his hand on her arm, which sent a shiver up her spine. “When you go back, I’ll interrupt. Put four drops in his glass.” His voice fell to a hush. “It’ll take twenty minutes for the drug to knock him out.”