Sorry Madam, we're late

There was a momentary, tense silence as she stepped away from him.

The rain had stopped completely now and the only sound was the heavy drip-drip of water from the roof.

She turned away from him and smiled at Victor as she backed toward the door. “Nice to meet you, happy shooting" she greeted like a professional actor greets her fellow actor.

Victor nodded. “You, too. Happy shooting We’ll see you around.”

Her hand on the open door, Bella paused and cast a glance at Miguel.

“Maybe,” she said, arching one delicate brow.

Miguel stared at the door when she closed it behind her.

"No maybe about it, Thomasina, I'll find you again and make you suffer for this dis grace in front of Victor Santos of all people" he thought.

She wouldn’t go far, he was certain of that.

She’d come here for something. Whatever it was she was after, she wasn’t finished yet.

And neither was he.

He turned to Victor, who was staring hard at him.

“Don’t ask. Don’t even ask. And you must not say a word to grandpa, Bella happened to be here by mistake"

Fortunately for Victor, he didn’t. He simply scratched at his neck and shrugged. “Does this mean that free offer of video and outing and pool game with Drake and I is on or off?”

“On. I didn't talk about game” Miguel unbuttoned his shirt and headed for the bedroom to change his clothes.

He needed sometime with friends to clear his head and a beer to wash the taste of cherry out of his mouth.

Bella kept a vigil on the cattails separating her room from Miguel’s. Because his room was in another block and hers was in another.

Evening shadows darkened the woods through the window, and though Bella had never been afraid of the night, she couldn’t stop the prickle of anxiety working its way up her spine.

He hadn’t followed her when she’d left his room over an hour ago, but she hadn’t really expected that he would.

At least, not yet. Through the bathroom door, she’d overheard Miguel’s offer to meet Victor in town for a hangout with friends ove pool game, and she assumed that he’d stayed with those plans.

No doubt Miguel would play it cool, to downplay what Victor had walked into this afternoon.

Or what he thought he’d walked into.

She smiled at that, decided that
Miguel would stay in town, casually play a few games of pool, drink some beer.

He’d act like he had all the time in the world. But Bella knew he was thinking about her, wondering who the devil she was and what she’d been doing watching him.

He’d be coming soon. She was certain of that.

A shiver crept up her arms, a mixture of tension and anticipation.

Her skin felt sticky and itchy from crawling around in the cattails, and her hair had dried into a mass of stiff curls.

She needed a shower badly, but she’d phoned in an urgent message to Camilla and couldn’t risk missing a return call.

She would want to know what had happened this afternoon, though Bella had already decided that certain minor details were unimportant and could be left out.

One, that Miguel had tied her up, and two, that he’d kissed her.

Touching her fingers to her lips, she remembered the press of his mouth against hers, the hot, though brief, brush of his tongue over her own.

Miguel Rodriguez was much more than she’d bargained for.

A hell of a lot more.

Of course, she knew that the only reason he’d kissed her was to stifle her scream, but somehow that didn’t seem to ease the persistent tingling in her lips. Nor did it erase the memory of his hard, muscled body pressed against hers, his hands on her skin. She remembered those hands now. Large and rough, as skillful as they were experienced. There’d been no movement wasted, no hesitation or uncertainty. Though it nearly killed her to admit it, she admired and respected that.

It also made her mad as hell.

Just then, her phone beeped, it was from her father. Bella quickly picked it.

"Yes Dad"

She heard a slight cough from the other end of the phone, then it was replaced by her father's old and battered voice.

"Hum, Bella, where are you? What have you gathered so far? Any news?" He asked all in one breath.

Bella couldn't bring herself to tell him that she was out of the country right now. Even though her father never showed how much he cared, still he'll be worried.

"Humm, Dad, I'm working on it. I'll soon give you the news. Take care of yourself and extend my greetings to Bianca and her mum" she said hesitantly to show how much she didn't want to answer his questions.

"Are you in Liverpool right now? Can you come back home tonight?"

Bella was surprised. She didn't know how to explain but she replied quickly, "Dad... I'll call you later, I have something important to do"

"Bella you..." She ended the call before he could say anything more.

She had learned how to handle herself from the time she was a little girl.

She couldn't afford to make her father worry about her.

With her wicked stepmother, she’d had two choices: submit or assert.

And since submission had never been her style, throughout her childhood she’d endured daily altercations with at least one from her stepmother or Stepsister.

Except Lionel, her childhood sweetheart who was currently out of the country. At twenty-five, he was the oldest, and had always been the one who’d saved her from serious injury when things got out of hand, dried her tears when frustration took over and she’d been reduced to that despicable female trait of crying.

The year following her mum's’ death when she was sixteen had been the hardest, but he’d been there for her then, too.

Especially then, even though at eighteen he suddenly had a family to hold together, as well as support. With three younger, headstrong brothers and a rebellious teenage sister, it hadn’t been easy, but he’d managed, and somehow they’d all survived to become closer to each other than ever before.

She had the urge to call Lionel now, just to hear his voice. His soft, deep tone had always calmed her, and she could certainly use a little calming right now.

Miguel had shaken her self-confidence, not to mention her pride, and though she never would have admitted that—or what had happened—to anyone, not even Gabe, she could vent her annoyance on the phone in some meaningless nonrelated complaint and never once mention the name Miguel Rodriguez.

In spite of her irritation with the man, she smiled slowly, remembering the look of astonishment on his face when she’d walked casually out of the bathroom and into the living room.

That look had been her only compensation for the humiliation he’d caused her.

She imagined that her heel digging into his foot had left a bruise, as well, but it served him right. How dare he tie her up and toss her in the bathtub!

What a pleasing sight.