The Disobedient Virgin

“Niece,” Jake said quickly. “Thank you. Yes. It’s truly unfortunate.” He dug several bills from his pocket and stuffed them into the valet’s hand. “If you would be so kind as to inform the staff not to pay attention to any, uh, any disturbances my, uh, my niece might create this evening…”

The valet nodded. “I will tell them, senhor.”

“Thank you, Andres. Sometimes my, ah, my niece becomes agitated. When she does…Well, I’m sure you understand.”

“Certainly. If I can do anything to help…”

You could, but only if you knew a way to rip Enrique Ramirez from the grave, Jake thought grimly. But he smiled like the benevolent uncle he was supposed to be, gave a sad shake of his head and said he would do his best to manage alone. His niece was less likely to be a problem that way. Then he went back to the vehicle, wrapped his hand around Catarina’s wrist and brought his mouth close to her ear.

“Here’s the deal,” he said coldly. “You can walk into the hotel on your own, or I’ll sling you over my shoulder and carry you. Take it or leave it.”

Her chin went up a notch.

“Do it. The policia will be here before you can blink.”

“That’s fine. I can explain the same thing to them I’ve already explained to the valet. They’ll be most sympathetic to a man who must deal with a niece who suffers from hallucinations.” A tight smile curved his mouth. “They’ll probably even help me find a psychiatric hospital in which I can place you until our flight leaves.”

That made her look at him, all right.

“You wouldn’t dare!”

“Try me.”

Catarina stared at him. A shudder went through her.

“Why are you doing this?”

Jake opened her seat belt. “Get out of the car, Catarina.”

“If it isn’t for money…”

“I’m going to count to three.”

“Are you related to Enrique Ramirez? You have the same name.”

“One.”

“Was he your father? Did you love him so much that you would do his bidding even after his death?”

“Two.”

“What kind of man would consent to such an awful demand? Don’t you have a mind of your own?”

“Three,” Jake said, and reached for her.

“All right!” She jerked away from his hand. “I’ll get out. Just don’t touch me.”

He stood aside and Catarina stepped from the car and swept past him, spine straight, head high, even though she was ready to weep with frustration. And fear. Fear that had become so powerful during the last part of the drive into town it had almost suffocated her.

She’d been so horrified by the knowledge that she would be married off to a stranger that she hadn’t let herself think about what had just happened.

A strange man all but owned her.

“Senhorita,” the valet said, flashing a smile so patently false she knew Ramirez must have told him something truly awful.

The doorman snapped to attention, the glass door swung wide, and Catarina entered the hotel.

Her captor was right on her heels.