Read Emily Kimelman - Sydney Rye 03 - Insatiable for Free Online

stepped back. The last thing I needed was clouding my head with this guy. He worked for Bobby Maxim so obviously he could not be trusted, not in bed, not in my head; no, I should not trust this man.
    “I’m going to get ready for dinner,” I said, moving past him into our honeymoon suite.
    He smiled as I slipped by. “Sounds like a plan, Sydney.” He let my name roll off his tongue and I turned to look at him. There was something in his eyes, something joking, or knowing. Something that wasn’t there a moment ago.
    At ten to eight a golf cart arrived driven by a man dressed in the hotel’s uniform with a smile on his face. We climbed aboard and the machine’s engine hummed as it carried us through the winding paths of the property.
    We passed the main building of the hotel. The sounds of clinking glasses, cutlery against plates, and voices straining to rise above it all reached us. Couples stood on the balconies. Backlit by the hotel’s bright and welcoming lights, they look like silhouettes putting on a play. We continued under a star-filled sky past empty beaches and breaking waves until we reached a mansion that was lit up for the night. It was a modern building, all glass and concrete. The landscaping was minimalist and a pool glowed deep ocean blue, its surface shimmered as a soft breeze passed by.
    Our driver stepped out of the golf cart and offered me his hand. I heard a door slide open as I stepped onto the paved path and looked up to see a short, squat figure silhouetted against the house’s light. As he came down the steps to greet us, the moon came out from behind a passing cloud and illuminated his face. He was smiling at us; his teeth were so straight and white that only an orthodontist with the help of a skilled dentist could maintain such perfection. His hair was thick, wild and as black as the sea that fronted his home, yet his eyebrows were perfect arches above deep-set eyes.
    “I am Alejandro. Welcome,” he said, offering Blane his hand. They shook and then he turned to me. “Welcome.” I put my hand out. Instead of shaking it Alejandro cupped it softly and lifted it to his lips. He lightly kissed right above my knuckles then lowered my hand and released it. I smiled, pleasantly surprised by the antiquated gesture. “It is a pleasure to meet you both. Please come in.” He waved toward the house. We followed him along a paved path cut through the sand to the patio surrounding the pool. It was made of a cement-like material with chunks of something in it that caught the moonlight and twinkled.
    “Glass-fault,” Alejandro said. I looked at him. “The pavement, it’s glass-fault. It is made of recycled bottles from the hotel.”
    “Oh, neat,” I said, sounding like a simpleton.
    “I am trying to make my carbon foot print as small as possible.” He laughed. “My feet are not very big, why leave a huge mark on the planet?” He laughed some more. Blane and I joined him. Alejandro led us up several steps to the patio where a man waited. He was unusually tall, seeming even more so when compared to Alejandro. “Cocktails?” Alejandro asked.
    Blane ordered a vodka martini and I asked for a tequila gimlet with just a splash of cranberry juice. Alejandro decided to have the same and the tall man turned on his heel in a military manner and walked into the house. Alejandro gestured to a table and chairs facing the sea. A woman wearing a blue maid’s uniform and a white apron brought us a plate of cheese, fruit and nuts.
    The three of us sat out on the deck listening to the lapping of the sea at the shore and the rustle of the wind in the palms fronds. The silent man returned with our drinks and after he was gone Blane said, “I suppose we should cut to the chase.”
    Alejandro smiled and nodded. “I like a man who is direct.”
    “Do you know where she is?”
    “Ana Maria,” Alejandro sighed, and looked out over his pool, past his beach, beyond the Caribbean, to the horizon, the thin line