004

Scanning the hallway, Luis caught the unmistakable sound of muffled voices again. His muscles tensed as he stalked forward, his boots making only the faintest sound against the wooden floor. Turning left, he edged onto the concrete stairwell, his sharp gaze flicking over the dimly lit space. The closer he got, the clearer the murmurs became, words blending into hushed tones.

Stopping just before a door, he instantly recognized it—fine brown oak, polished smooth, with delicate carvings along the frame. Lisa Cardone's bedroom. He let his fingers trail briefly along the wood, committing the texture and craftsmanship to memory. The sound he had heard earlier must have been them talking—Lisa and Carlos. His sharp eyes darted beyond the door, catching the stance of the other man, his broad back facing the hallway, unaware of his presence.

Luis lingered a second longer, watching, listening—until he decided there was nothing more to see. With calculated ease, he turned on his heel and retreated the way he came, his movements as fluid as a shadow.

Back in the kitchen, he slid onto the same stool, fingers absently tapping against the wooden surface. His thoughts churned. Would it be wise to move forward with his plan today? Or wait until nightfall, when the ranch settled into slumber and the workers retired to their quarters? He exhaled through his nose, rubbing a hand along his jaw in thought.

Deciding to wait, he reached for the lemonade pitcher, pouring himself another glass. The cool, sweet liquid soothed his throat, washing away the dryness left by the relentless afternoon sun. With a final glance around, he set the cup down, adjusting his hat before slipping out the back door.

The moment he stepped outside, the scent of sun-warmed earth and cut sugarcane filled his lungs. His boots crunched against the ground as he made his way toward the harvesting site. There, where the fields stretched wide and golden, he had strategically set up a small pile of uncut sugarcane stalks earlier—enough to make it seem like he had been working all morning, away from the others.

He crouched, breaking a sugarcane stem with a practiced snap, just as the sound of approaching footsteps reached his ears. He didn't need to look up to know who it was.

Luis tipped his head up slowly, feigning mild surprise as the older man came into view, his face set in a deep scowl.

The older man was quick to mask his disappointment, his sharp gaze sweeping over Luis, who was clearly hard at work—not lazing about, as Juan Francisco had foolishly claimed. With a dry, unreadable expression, he observed, "You're here, new guy."

Luis grunted in response, slicing cleanly through a thick sugarcane stalk with practiced ease, as if he had done this all his life. "Hello, sir."

Julio folded his arms, watching the young man work with a silent sort of scrutiny. "I'm surprised you're out here in these parts. Workers don't usually stay around this side—too quiet for their liking."

Luis crouched, grabbing another stalk and making quick work of it, aware of the older man's careful evaluation. He could see it—the flicker of approval in Julio's eyes—but just as quickly, the man masked it. Luis smirked inwardly. Better to feign indifference than give me high hopes, huh? He knew the type. Julio wasn't one to hand out praise easily.

"I like quiet," Luis replied simply, his voice steady. "Gives me space to work better."

Julio tested him with a pointed stare. "The others have been complaining about you keeping to yourself. Said you don't work with them."

Luis let out a low, amused chuckle, tilting his dark head. "I'm still getting used to the land. Besides, those men do nothing but distract me with their unnecessary banter. I work better alone."

Dropping his machete, he dusted his hands against his worn denim, flashing an easy smile.

"I figured you'd need help getting acquainted with the place."

"No need." His tone was light but firm. "I'm already well acquainted."

Julio studied him for a long moment, irritation flickering in his eyes before he let out a short exhale. Stubborn man. Choosing to let his annoyance slide, he turned on his heel and walked away without another word.

Luis watched him go, his expression unreadable. As the older man's figure disappeared into the distance, he sank down onto a fallen tree stem, stretching his legs out before him. He let his gaze drift toward the main house, his fingers absentmindedly tracing the ridges of a sugarcane stalk.

He had taken note of Lisa Cardone's bedroom door earlier. The fine brown oak. The delicate carvings. And somewhere, in the recess of his twisted mind, a quiet desire stirred.

He wished to see her again.

Then, his thoughts drifted back to the man beside her.

The reminder struck something in him, and he exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his dark hair. It was true that she was betrothed to him, and he needed to have a bit of self-respect—for himself and for her.

Stay out of trouble. That was the smart thing to do. He wasn't here to stir chaos over a woman, no matter how tempting she was. He had a mission, and Lisa Cardone wasn't supposed to be part of it…

Well not entirely.

He didn't want her to be involved.

And yet…

The image of her, standing in that hallway, her golden hair cascading over her shoulders, her lips parting in surprise when their eyes met—

Luis clenched his jaw.

He still wanted to see her again.

Privately.

Gracias… for the flowers, Carlos. They're real pretty," Lisa murmured softly, turning with a sweet, ladylike grace to press an innocent kiss against his cheek. Her lips barely brushed his skin, but she caught the way his neck flushed, red and warm like a boy caught in his first courtship.

She knew what that meant. He fancied her—more than just as a friend. But heaven help her, she didn't feel the same. Not even close.

What bothered her more was the timing. He'd pulled her away—dragged her, more like it—from the kitchen just when she'd caught sight of that rugged ranch hand again… Luis. Lord, she'd barely gotten a chance to even say thank you to the man who'd saved her life. She'd been chewing on that thought for days—weeks, actually. If she'd gone through with her plan to run away that night, she could've ended up in a ditch, or worse. But Luis… he hadn't just saved her, he never once took advantage, even when she was most vulnerable. He even got whipped for her, and she hated that. Hated being the cause of any trouble, hated the way folks looked at her like some spoiled little thing.

And the worst part? Maybe Luis thought so too.

She sighed deeply, a heaviness settling in her chest. She just wanted to see him. Wanted to thank him proper. Maybe… maybe she wanted to see him for other reasons too. It had been three weeks, and he hadn't left her thoughts since. Funny thing was, she hadn't even seen much of him on the ranch either. She'd been locked up in her room like some kind of wayward daughter.

When she tried to ask her father about him, she got the usual dry replies: "He's out in the field." "He's working." And of course, she wasn't allowed to go wandering around without some set of eyes trailing her every move. And she hated being watched.

Lisa walked over to her dressing table, slipping off her pink skirt with delicate fingers and settling onto the soft, plush chair. The room was warm, scented faintly of lavender and old rosewood.

Carlos had been standing by the door all that while, watching the way sunlight spilled through the barred windows. He chuckled, shaking his head.

"I still can't believe your daddy went on with this… caging you up like a bird."

She turned toward him and shrugged. "Well… at least I still get a little breeze through the windows."

"I don't get it," he said suddenly, voice tinged with frustration. "Why'd you want to run off like that, Lisa? What's really goin' on with you? I'm tryin' to understand, I truly am."

Lisa stared at her reflection in the mirror, her voice barely above a whisper. "It ain't something I wanna talk about, Carlos. Please… just let it rest."

"But I can't understand if you won't let me in," he pressed. "Folks are sayin' you've turned plum stubborn."

"Folks?" she turned to him sharply. "Who's folks?"

He hesitated. "Well… everyone, I guess. But I just don't want you givin' your daddy a hard time. He's doin' all he can to make you happy."

Her lips twitched bitterly. "Oh, he always does… don't he?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Carlos asked, catching the sudden edge in her tone.

"Nothin'," she replied quickly, masking her expression again as she turned to her mirror. "Forget it."

Carlos walked over, crouching down beside her. His eyes searched her face, his hand gently taking hers. "Lisa… I wanna understand. I really do. And I just hope I ain't steppin' on the wrong stones here. But if it's what I think—"

"What do you think?" she interrupted, eyes locking with his.

"Nothin'," he said, backing down. "Forget it. Look, I just want you to know… I care about you. That's all."

"I know," she said quietly.

"Will you promise not to run off again?"

She looked at him, saw a flicker of the boy she once knew—her childhood friend—and smiled faintly. "I won't, Carlos. I really won't."

"Alright then…" He stood, then paused again. "Can I ask one more thing?"

"What is it?" she asked, sensing the weight in his voice.

"What's goin' on between you and that farmhand?"

She blinked. "Luis?"

"Yeah. The one in the kitchen earlier."

"Nothin'," she replied quickly. "He helped me, that's all. I haven't seen him since that night until today, when you hauled me up here like a sack of corn."

He chuckled and took her hands again. "I just don't like you spendin' time with strange men."

"Oh, and you think your company's different 'cause you got manners?"

He smirked. "It's different… 'cause I know what I want."

"Which is?"

He didn't answer. Just smiled and said, "Never mind. Anyway, I came to invite you to the cartel opening tomorrow night at Last Pot. Will you come with me?"

She hesitated. "I can't, Carlos."

"Yeah… figured as much."

She felt a pang of guilt. As he turned to leave, she grabbed his arm. "Wait—Carlos, I'll go with you."

"Are you sure? Not just sayin' that to make me feel better?"

"I want to. Honestly."

He smiled, and before she could prepare herself, he pulled her into an embrace—and kissed her. It was quick, yet oddly intrusive. His tongue slid against hers, and she felt… nothing. No flutter, no spark. Just the uncomfortable sensation of something too familiar. Like kissing a brother. A very unwelcome, unholy feeling settled over her.

She turned away, hiding her expression as she moved back to the dressing table.

Carlos mistook her silence for shyness. "I'll see you tomorrow then," he said with a pleased grin, stepping out of her room and down the hallway.

As he passed the kitchen, he cast a sideways glance, hoping to catch a glimpse of Luis again.

But the ranch hand was gone.

Carlos sighed, jaw tightening slightly, and headed out to the stables. He mounted his horse, kicked his spurs gently, and rode off toward his own ranch—mind still lingering on the man named Luis.

After crouchin' low and hackin' through cane for near four hours straight, Luis was plum tuckered out. His back ached somethin' fierce, and sweat rolled down his brow like a river under the midday sun. His shirt clung to his skin, damp and dust-covered, his dark hair plastered against his scalp. His old cowboy hat was nowhere in sight—probably forgotten somewhere between the fields and the last water break.

The sun had begun its slow descent, hangin' low over the horizon, paintin' the sky a soft orange that bled into the blue. He squinted toward it, lettin' out a heavy sigh.

"Time to call it a day," he muttered to himself, draggin' his boots across the dry dirt as he made his way back toward the ranch quarters.

When he finally reached his room, he twisted the knob, pushed the door open, and flicked on the light. The sight that greeted him made him pause in his tracks.

His bed had been made up with a fresh, clean sheet—neatly tucked corners and all. On his small wooden table sat a plate of steak, warm bread, and a few other fixings that sent a waft of savory aroma into the air. He narrowed his eyes.

Something didn't sit right.

He turned his head toward the bathroom, and sure enough, there she was—the same lady from before, the one who'd introduced herself as Maria. She was standin' in front of the basin, her figure wrapped in that same tight dress, cleavage spillin' like it had a mind of its own.

"Oh, hi, Luis," she said with a sweet, high-pitched tone, turnin' to face him with a coy smile.

"You did all this?" he asked, brows furrowed.

"Oh yes," she said, flutterin' her lashes. "I asked around where you stayed and saw your room—it was a mess. That last ranch hand who stayed here was just awful. I never liked him anyway."

Luis gave a small chuckle and sat on the edge of the bed, glancin' at the food again. "You really didn't have to go through all this trouble."

"Oh, but I wanted to," she said, steppin' closer. "And I'm sorry 'bout earlier… the way I walked out on you. That was rude of me."

"It ain't a big deal," Luis replied casually, though his eyes lingered on the plate. "Smells good though."

"Go ahead and eat," she coaxed, lips curved in a soft smile.

"I'll eat later," he said, standin' up. "Need a good bath first. I'm caked in sweat."

"Oh! I already ran your bath," she said, almost too eagerly.

He nodded. "Appreciate it."

As he walked toward the bathroom, she scurried out of the room, leavin' him with a quick glance over her shoulder. He smirked a little to himself, unsure what to make of her.

After scrubbing himself clean and lettin' the cool water wash away the grime of the day, Luis wrapped a towel 'round his waist and stepped out of the bathroom. He made his way toward the wardrobe, runnin' his fingers through damp hair.

Just then, the door flew open again—Maria burst in like a wild wind.

Startled, he looked up. "What is it?" he asked, brows raised.

"I… I thought I forgot somethin'," she said, but her eyes were glued to his bare torso.

He narrowed his gaze. "You alright?"

Then, before he could speak again, she crossed the room and perched herself right on his bed—uninvited. Her hands fidgeted with the thin straps of her dress.

"What're you doin'?" he asked, suspicion risin'.

And then, as bold as sin, she pulled the straps down, lettin' her dress slide off her shoulders, exposin' herself without shame.

Luis stood there, stunned.

"What in God's name—?"

"I just thought maybe you'd wanna… spend some time with me," she whispered, standin' up and pressin' a hand to his chest.

He stepped back, eyes cold. "Señorita… you better get outta my room. Now."

"But—"

"I said, get out," he snapped, voice low but firm. "I ain't raisin' my hand on a woman, but I will not entertain this nonsense. You got no shame?"

Hurt and angry, she turned sharply and stormed out—dress still half off, no bother to pull it back up. Luis stared at the door for a moment, heart beatin' a little faster, not from temptation, but from disgust.

He glanced at the food again, now lookin' less like supper and more like bait. Who knew what she'd put in it? He left it untouched.

"This woman's got the devil in her," he muttered, shakin' his head.

He walked back into the bathroom again, needin' to rinse off the feel of her presence—like it had clung to him in the air. He stayed under the water longer this time, lettin' it wash away the filth of a moment he didn't ask for.

Luis paced restlessly around his quarters, his jaw clenched, muscles taut with unspoken rage. He needed to work. He needed to get on with the mission. He needed to focus—anything to clear the foul taste that Maria's presence had left behind.

He'd been seduced by a girl—a child, no less. It burned him to the core. It insulted every inch of his manhood. He wasn't just pissed; he was ashamed. Ashamed of what she'd tried, and ashamed that part of him—just a flicker—had almost considered it. No. That wasn't him anymore.

The untouched plate of food remained on the table, growing cold as he stepped out into the night. The sun had vanished behind the hills, and the ranch grounds now bathed in a quiet hush of darkness, broken only by the soft neigh of horses and clattering kitchen utensils from the main ranch house.

Luis headed toward the Cardone kitchen—he figured he'd have to settle in with the other ranch hands for dinner tonight. Not that he was in the mood to eat anymore. But he needed to feel something ordinary again. Something grounded.

And maybe—just maybe—he'd catch a glimpse of her.

That fair-haired beauty.

He hated himself for it. Hated how badly he wanted to see her again. How his heart had started thumpin' like a fool's every time he pictured her pale blue eyes or the way her lips curled shyly.

He had no right. But damn it all, he wanted to see her again.

He pushed through the wooden doors of the kitchen and found it already bustling. The aroma of stew and warm bread wafted in the air. Maria was there, standing by the table, but he didn't spare her a glance.

She spoke anyway. "I got food for you."

He ignored her. Like a disease.

He didn't owe her any kindness—not after what she tried to pull. But still, some part of him warred with his conscience. He didn't want to cause a scene. He didn't want to shame her. He just wanted her gone.

He spooned some stew into a plate from the large pot at the center of the table, his mind still torn. In another life, in another version of himself—the man he used to be—he might've taken Maria's offer without a second thought. But something was different now.

Someone was different.

The pale-haired girl.

She'd barely spoken a few words to him, and yet she'd stirred something deep in his soul. Something he hadn't felt in a long time—maybe ever.

He grabbed his plate, turned, and walked out of the kitchen without a word.

His boots thudded along the wooden floor, his head bowed as his thoughts swirled, lost in confusion and unwanted emotion. And then—

He bumped into someone.

A soft thud and a slight gasp.

Luis's head snapped up. His gaze dropped first to a dainty pair of shoes and a simple brown dress, then slowly, hesitantly, rose higher—

And met a pair of pale blue eyes.

His breath hitched.

There she was.

The fair-haired beauty stood before him, her expression startled, her lips parted slightly. And then she smiled—soft, shy, just like she had earlier in the day. A smile that did something strange to his insides. It cracked his chest wide open.

He stared, unable to look away.

His hands itched to touch her, to brush the golden strands away from her face, to feel the warmth of her cheek beneath his palm. But he held himself back, clenching his jaw and forcing those thoughts into silence.

"Good evening, my lady," he said, dipping his head slightly, voice low and rough. "Forgive me—did I hurt you?"

She shook her head, a delicate blush blooming across her cheeks.

Luis noticed. Of course he noticed.

She was blushing.

And damn it, his heart betrayed him again.