Mariana’s Pov

“Why did you bring me here?”

My voice is accusing as I ask the question, my eyes tight, void of emotions. Alejandro’s Adam's apple bobs, an indication that a thick lump just slid down his throat.

Then he smiles. He doesn’t know it, but the smile seems forced. “I’ve told you a million times, Mariana,” he says, his tone firm, robotic, “I want us to live freely for at least one week.”

And that’s how I know he’s lying.

Alejandro might be dangerous, but he ...