Rule's Seduction (The House of Rule 4)

Why her? She wasn’t buying his amazing sex explanation—even though his nostrils were flaring with the same look he’d had the night before as he’d thrust inside her. And suddenly, with her stomach sinking in a fit of petrified anxiety, she had to know just how badly she’d messed up. She cleared her throat and asked as innocuously as possible, “Where are we? Where are we going?”

“Home,” he announced succinctly and decisively.

Home? Damn it. “Where?” She asked in a voice that wasn’t supposed to have been a whisper.

His features turned slightly remote. “Argentina.”

She sucked in a breath and almost came unglued. Argen-fucking-where? She licked her lips and stared up at him. “I’m sorry. Did you say Argentina?”

“I did, sweetness. We will be landing in Buenos Aires shortly.” His voice was irrefutable, assertive, as if expecting no contest from her.

Panic in its purest form settled like a lead weight in Erin’s stomach. But she had to know. She absolutely had to know the worst of it. Forcing an optimism she was far from feeling, she asked, “And this is where—?” she swallowed, how could she even say the H word? “This is where we’ll honeymoon for a week or so before flying back to the States?”

His eyes began to glitter as he slowly began shaking his head back and forth before answering, “No, love.”

“No?” Shit. That definitely came out as a whisper. Where was her effing spine?

“No, sweetness. Argentina is the paradise where we will live out our lives together—happily ever after, as they say.”

Abruptly, the painkillers seemed to kick in as her head cleared. She felt twin emotions—a wild, provocative thrill that this man would want her so much that he’d whisk her away, yet also a blaring, sweat-inducing panic when she realized that the thought could only be a fairytale. What were the chances of that, really? Girls like her were a dime a dozen. She was decently pretty, but nothing he couldn’t have every day of his life with a simple snap of his fingers. So, something was very definitely wrong here. Way wrong. Worse than getting married to a man she hadn’t even known existed until two nights ago. Worse than getting on a private plane when she was in a state of inebriation.

Pushing against him, he finally let go and took a single step back. As he stood watching her with impenetrable eyes, waiting silently, another barrage of memories hit her, this time with more clarity than before: Max at the bar in the restaurant watching only her even as countless single women hovered around him, trying to catch his eye. Max casually asking about her passport. Max introducing himself as Santiago when he’d clearly given Villarreal as his name before the ceremony. And just now, only moments before, Max using the word, ‘coup’ as if he’d won a battle, or even a war.

Why would he use that particular word? It didn’t make sense. And why would the name ‘Villarreal’ make a sprinkle of gooseflesh break out on her arms? What the hell? A vague memory tickled her brain, something that was telling her she’d heard the name before. For whatever reason, that particular surname was sending a shiver down her spine—and not in a good way. The name definitely held something almost sinister, but where the hell had she heard it? Maybe at work? From her brothers?

Her brothers—that had to be it. Immediately after the thought, she could almost visualize a stamp of rage on Garrett’s face—but she still couldn’t remember, damn it. She could not get her brain to put two and two together, but her gut was telling her that it was imperative that she do so.

And then the truth struck like a lightning bolt. It didn’t matter if she couldn’t remember exactly why the name was triggering nerves, because one thing became glaringly obvious to her. None of this had anything to do with her, even though there was undoubtedly sexual chemistry between them. This wasn’t about him stumbling upon her and simply being drawn to her. This wasn’t about him sweeping her off her feet because he felt compelled to do so. This marriage didn’t have anything to do with her. Oh, no, it wasn’t nearly as simple as that. The fact that she was on a plane? Virtually being kidnapped? It wasn’t about her at all—it was about them.

With the discovery came more pain than she was prepared to admit. It really had been too good to be true. A man like Max? Going after an ordinary woman like her as if he couldn’t stop himself? Yeah, right. She knew one thing for sure. She’d never fall for his shit again and she’d never let him see that he’d hurt her. But for now, she had to get the confrontation over with. They had to be on the same page. She braced her stance and took a deep breath, ready to challenge him. “Your actions haven’t been about me, have they? This is about my brothers and their corporation.”