Page 28 of Game of Revenge

“This…” I said as I pointed around me and between us, “this is not my life.”

“It’s the best I can do right now. I can’t give you back your freedom. Not yet.”

“Why? What is it that you want? What are we waiting for?”

Alejandro shook his head and squeezed the bridge of his nose. He looked exhausted.

“I think this evening has ended,” he concluded as he went back behind his desk.

He grabbed the phone and called the kitchen for Dolores. I could feel the burning sensation in my eyes as I blinked a few times to hold back my tears. There was nothing left to be said.

I had been around this man long enough to recognize the stance—the cold, controlled, iced version of him when he was done entertaining a conversation—in stark contrast to the man he showed when he had kissed me or when he let his guard down just a bit. I knew I had lost him for the rest of the night.

Chapter 12

I spent most of the next day alone with my thoughts, my ache for my life back, for answers, for the end of this limbo state I was in. I was pleasantly surprised when Dolores stopped by in the evening and told me to get ready for dinner.

I was still surprised when Alejandro was there to get me again. He was wearing a dark pair of jeans and a shark-skin-blue button-down shirt. His thick black curls were slicked back. I did not like seeing him in my space, filling my bedroom with his presence and his intoxicating scent. How was I to stop thinking of him when I saw him in my room, so close to my bed, looking all male and primal?

He stayed by the door this time, thankfully, waiting for me to walk to him. I was wearing my favorite dress—a tasteful, see-through, white lace mesh dress with a corset-like top, thin sleeves, and a flowy skirt. It made me feel like a princess. I left my hair curly and adorned it with the pearl pins. My cheeks were flushed from all the sun I had been taking in during the day on the balcony.

“Already done with yet another book?” asked Alejandro when he saw me holding one as I got to the door.

“Yes, I wanted to return it,” I explained, looking up at him. We were both at the door.

I made an effort to break from his gaze and walk forward. We headed to his office.

“Are you okay with just some appetizers tonight?” he inquired. “I know you ate lunch very late.”

“I am not very hungry, to be honest.”

“How about I show you around the house a bit, then?” he offered.

I hesitated, but if this was another peace offering, I wanted to take it.

“I would love that.”

I followed Alejandro out of the office. We headed to the living room. I had passed by there a few times without having an opportunity to stop.

The room was impressive. It was the perfect combination of modern and classic with thick, dark-mahogany wood and French-style doors. The furniture was exquisite, some of the wood in the chairs clearly hand-carved with extreme care.

“I have one more room to show you,” he said as we headed to the main hall. Alejandro took me down a set of stairs that I had never noticed before. I thought we were going to a basement, but the stairs went a bit lower than that.

We arrived in a humid, dimly lit cave. I barely held in a gasp. It was one of the most beautiful wine cellars I had ever seen. The cave had very small, separate rooms holding different kinds of wine. The smell of dirt, mold, and wood providing the perfect condition for wine storing.

“I am a collector,” he joked with a smile.

He seemed in his element, proud and protective of his cave and the jewels it contained. The workmanship was exquisite. The cellar was made of wood and bricks, with slight curves into the ceiling. The wood wine racks were floor to ceiling, blending seamlessly into the cave.

Alejandro proceeded to explain the importance of storing wine at a certain temperature and in a specific type of environment to allow it to continue to age gracefully once bottled. This was Alejandro’s favorite place in the house and a big selling point when he bought it, he explained.

We stopped in the tasting room, where there was a gorgeous wood countertop with drawers directly built into the back wall, as well as a table with a few chairs. There were about a dozen French and American oak barrels, laying on their sides in two rows, on top of each other.

“And I thought I was obsessed with wine,” I joked as I walked to the countertop to look at the bottles showcased on it.

“Well, I enjoy traveling quite a lot, and I love getting to learn about new places through their wine. You’d be surprised how much you can learn of people’s cultures, their temperament and personalities through the cultivation of alcohol. It also helps to be in the industry,” explained Alejandro as he came to a stop next to me.

“In the industry? Are you a wine maker?”