He meant it would be better for her if they got along. How was she supposed to take that? As simply as it came off or as the threat she thought it surely was? She schooled her features into a mask so that he couldn’t see the hostility in her eyes and then looked down at her hands folded in her lap and waited.
And waited.
After a moment of prolonged silence where the air around them grew thick while she continued to stare down, she felt him settle back in his seat before drawling, “Very good, darling.”
Son-of-a-bitch. She was going to kill him. Surely no jury in the world would condemn her for killing him? His arrogance alone was an unpardonable offense.
She felt his stare for a few more seconds before he finally yielded by asking, “Are you familiar with the game, Jenga?”
Erin lifted her gaze to his, her fingers digging into each other, looking for some form of support as a wave of confusion swept through her at what he was asking. “Yes.”
He lifted that single, maddening brow once again. “You’ve played the game, then?”
Damn him—he seemed unflappable while she wanted to scream and throw things. It was just one more thing that inflamed her anger. “No,” she seethed while raising her voice impatiently, “but I’ve seen it on television and I know what it’s about. So, what’s the connection?” Damn. Could she not stop screeching when he seemed totally unperturbed?
His eyes sharpened momentarily as he reached out and ran a single, forceful finger down her cheek and across her bottom lip. There was no doubt that it was a reminder—she’d better be careful. His voice deepened. “It’s a game of precision and strategy, is it not?”
His tone remained cool, detached even, and the heat from his abbreviated caress fractured her breathing. It took everything she had to stay on subject. “From what I know about it.”
He shrugged his shoulders almost carelessly. “Jenga is merely an analogy for our situation. In the game, there’s a tower—think of that tower as being the Rule Corporation. You and your brothers have been playing the game, but you didn’t know it—until now.”
If Erin had been sick to her stomach before, that feeling only ramped up at his explanation, as in her mind’s eye, she could see a Jenga tower wobbling, about to fall. “And do my brothers know this? That they’re playing a game with you?” How in the hell was she able to put on a calm act when on the inside she was walking a tightrope with her sanity? Was she a better actress than she realized?
“Not completely, no.” He stretched back in his seat and crossed an ankle over his knee as if he were completely comfortable. “However, they are sure to recognize my name at this point, because I’ve been dogging their tracks for some time.”
Even through her mixed emotions, his game plan was beginning to make more sense. “Is that why you introduced yourself as Santiago? Because you thought that I might recognize the Villarreal name?”
At his short nod and nothing else, she very forcibly masked her impatience and asked, “I still don’t understand what I have to do with this? How am I playing the game?”
His hand left his knee, his finger sweeping across her bottom lip again—as if proving that he could touch her any time he felt the need . . . but almost as if he were unable to stop himself from doing so—as if he needed to do so. It was a tantalizing thought but she didn’t have time to dwell on it, though she stored it for later.
He didn’t release her as he’d done before and a thrill of unwanted, frightened anticipation made her tense as he stared at her as if he were only playing with her before he pounced. The look he gave as his fingers caressed her lip held many things—fire, fascination, challenge, utter control. A flare of measured design crossed his visage, bringing involuntary tremors to her limbs, before he asked in a deep, silken voice, “You don’t want their tower to fall, do you, sweetness?”
An arrow of sheer panic landed in the pit of her stomach, as her lips quivered against her will. “I’m sure I don’t—” she stalled as his eyes left hers to watch his caress against her lip, “—so what should my strategy be?” Jesus, was she actually asking the enemy how to go about winning? But then, who the hell else was she supposed to ask?
His eyes snapped back to hers. “If you’d like me to stop making hostile moves toward toppling the Rule Corporation then the first thing you have to do is make a simple choice about staying with me. It’s very basic, love—I want you here. And to keep their tower strong, you need to keep me happy, yes?”