This Isn't You, Baby (War & Peace Book 4)

by K. Webster

  She fires off a text and glares at me through her tears. “You have exactly fifteen minutes to say your piece. My ride will be here for me and I will be gone. Tick tock.”

  I scrub at my cheek with my palm. “My dad asked me to look after you.”

  “Why? Keep an eye on the girl who was now an orphan because your sister killed her mother? Was this some kind of guilt thing?” Her words are a vicious snarl.

  “Jesus, Brie, no.” I start for her and she takes a step back. “Just hear me out.”

  She remains eerily quiet as I recant the past three years. How her father asked us to look after her. How Dad paid off the old lawn boy so I could take his place. How I eventually fell for her on my own.

  “How I felt about you was never a lie, beautiful.”

  Her throat bobs as she swallows. “Your sister killed my mother. Your sister stole my dad.”

  I don’t even touch on the fact that she has a half sister she doesn’t know about who lives across the hall from my bedroom. “I’m nothing like my sister. You know that.”

  “Blood was everywhere,” she whispers so softly I almost don’t even hear. “Everywhere. I climbed on top of my mother and tried to hold her cold neck together. Ren, I tried to give a corpse CPR.” Her body quakes but the sob never escapes.

  “I’m so sorry, Brie.”

  “Me too. I’m so sorry but I can’t do this with you. This wasn’t just a lie. This was a massive cover-up of the most horrific time of my life.” She starts for the door and swings it open. “I can’t get over this. I’ll never get over this.”

  A massive scary-ass motherfucker comes up behind her and I freeze.

  “Everything okay, tigress?”

  His glare is menacing and penetrating. He’s the type of guy who is feral—the type of guy who looks just crazy enough that he’d bite your jugular with his teeth for looking at him wrong.

  I must be asking to be made into a meal because I’m looking all kinds of wrong at him.

  “Just take me home, Duvan.” She turns and buries her head in his chest.

  Duvan. Fucking Duvan.

  Her motherfucking fiancé.

  Home?

  He pins me with a warning glare before ushering her out of the room.

  “Brie!” I call out to her in the hallway.

  I don’t get a response as the only girl I’ve ever really cared about walks into the elevator and out of my life for good.

  The elevator doors begin to draw to a close, and as I stand there paralyzed with Brie’s fiancé’s death glare burning into me, a trembling Brie in his arms, one thought circles around in my head.

  Thanks a fucking lot, Han.

  I’m hollow and empty inside.

  Dead.

  He lied.

  Duvan wisely remained silent while I stewed over Ren’s dishonesty. This wasn’t a lie about how much money one makes at their job or embellishing the size of a fish they caught. This isn’t even like one of Oscar’s lies where he tells us about how he slept with Taylor Swift and that her recent album is about him.

  No, this was lying about who Ren was.

  Everything he told me, he did so while he hid the truth of who his family is. It was his family who entered my life and tore it to pieces. His sister stole and stole from me. And he lied and did so in a way that assured I wouldn’t know who he was—who she was to him. The fact that he’s been in touch with my father was the icing on the cake. My own father who I have not spoken to in over three years. My own father who chose my mother’s killer over me.

  I’m disgusted.

  The ride back to Duvan’s hotel is a blur.

  I vaguely remember him walking me upstairs. I hardly recall him running me a bath. I don’t even remember getting into the bath at all.

  I’m simply in total, mind-blowing shock.

  Duvan’s deep voice rumbles in the other room as he talks on the phone, but I can’t make out his words. Eventually, he returns to me, concern painting his features.

  “Time for bed, tigress.”

  I stand in the water and he wraps a towel around me. Earlier today he’d taken me shopping. He didn’t choose for me like Heath always would. No, Duvan sat in a chair scrolling through his phone while I picked out the items I liked. When I step into the bedroom I’m staying in, I find some yoga pants and a hoodie lying on the bed. A pair of pink panties sits on top.

  His kindness makes me break down in tears.

  And I don’t stop.

  Three years of pent-up hurt and betrayal all pours out in one evening. He doesn’t ogle me or try to touch me as he helps me dress. He doesn’t tell me what a bastard Ren is. He doesn’t do anything but help me.

  “Look at me,” he says, lifting my chin. “You cry this shit out tonight. I’ll give you something to relax. And then tomorrow, you begin living your fucking life. All this heartache stays here. We won’t bring it with us.”

  I nod, desperately trying to swipe the tears away. “Okay.”

  “Okay,” he agrees with a gentle smile and brushes a stray tear from my jaw.

  He leaves the room and returns with a bottle of water. I take the pills from him and swallow them down. When I crawl into the bed, he sidles in beside me. His comfort is the only thing fueling me on right now.

  “Sleep, tigress.”

  And I do.

  My marriage to Duvan is official.

  I am Gabriella Rojas.

  Married at eighteen and flying to another country with her husband.

  We’ve barely spoken, aside from our murmured vows in front of the judge and our families. I’ve floated along in a fog. The medicine that Duvan gave me last night helped. I’m trying to get the courage to ask him for some more.

  The ache in my heart hurts.

  “Duvan?” I ask, my voice husky.

  He’s been staring out the plane window. Quiet. Too quiet. It unnerves me.

  “Hmm?”

  When he turns to look at me, he’s frowning. His jaw ticks, and I wonder what he’s thinking.

  “What’s wrong?”

  He reaches over and takes my hand. “Just happy to get home. Ready to leave all this behind.”

  “Can I…” I chew on my lip as nerves eat away at my stomach. “What you gave me last night really helped me.”

  He lifts a dark eyebrow. “All you have to do is ask for it, tigress.”

  “Can you give me those pills again?”

  His hand dives in his pocket and he produces two pills—as if he knew I’d need them. I choke them down and chase them with my water.

  “Thank you.”

  He gives me a small nod. “It’s my duty as your husband to take care of you now.”

  The degree of seriousness as he says this makes me shiver.

  My husband.

  He’s my last thought before I drift off.

  “This is our bedroom,” he says after he flicks on the light. The sprawling mansion situated on the outskirts of town is an architectural masterpiece. Whereas the rest of the city is a myriad of buildings and homes from crumbling to pristine, his house—our house—is the fanciest of them all.

  “We’re sleeping in the same bed?” I blurt out.

  His eyes darken and he plucks at the buttons on his shirt. “Isn’t that what husbands and wives do? That’s what we did out of wedlock last night, did we not?”

  I swallow and nod, my eyes fixated on his motions.

  “This house is beautiful,” I praise, hoping to change the subject. “I think it’s the nicest one around here.”

  He chuckles. “It is the nicest house,” he affirms with barely disguised pride. “And here, in Bogotá we are royalty. Do you understand?”

  I nod but freeze when he wraps his arms around me from behind.

  “Relax, tigress.”

  The meds from our flight have worn off, and I’m feeling edgy. “What sort of things are there to do around here?”

  He twists me in his arms and pins me with a scary glare that has me cowering. “You are nev
er to leave this house without me. Are we clear?”

  I blink at him in confusion and nod.

  His fingers lift my chin so that I can’t avoid his menacing gaze. “Not because I’m a controlling asshole, Brie. But because it’s dangerous out there. Not everyone likes our family. We have enemies. Enemies dead set on destroying our empire.”

  Relief courses through me. “Okay, I promise I won’t go anywhere without you.”

  This seems to please him and he grins at me. And then he kisses me. Not a quick peck like at our wedding, but deep. Consuming. Claiming.

  My palms find his hardened pecks to steady myself so I don’t get kissed right out the window. His big hand wraps around the back of my neck as he pulls me deeper into his kiss. I let out a surprised moan. The way his tongue dances with mine is delicate, yet dominating. Like a tiger who goes easy on his tigress because he doesn’t want to scare her off. But he still ripples with strength and power. I know he could maul me to death if he truly wanted.

  He eventually pulls from our kiss and flashes me what is becoming one of his signature smirks. “I wanted to kiss you like that at the ceremony.”

  I laugh. “Why didn’t you? That would have made this trip a lot less nerve-wracking.”

  His eyes darken and his jaw clenches. “They don’t need to know how I really feel,” he mumbles. “Love and family are a weakness in my life. You show your enemies what’s valuable to you and they will try and take it from you.”

  “But it was your family and my adopted one.”

  “Heath is an enemy. Esteban is an enemy.”

  I’m shocked at his revealing words about how he truly feels about his brother, and it sparks my curiosity. “Why is your brother an enemy?”

  His brows furl together. “Once I graduated from college, our father wanted us both to work alongside him. Esteban had grown used to calling a lot of the shots. Then he had me to contend with. We’ve been at each other’s throats for a couple of years now. Since the moment we’d been told one of us was going to marry you, and that you weren’t to be simply given to the eldest, Esteban has had a major fucking chip on his shoulder. He’s always wanted it all. Our father makes us earn what we want. And Esteban has hated that our entire lives.”

  “I’m glad I got you then. He seems awful.” That’s the truth. I love Oscar dearly as a friend. But he’s not frightening. Oscar could never protect me like Duvan can.

  “It wasn’t an easy fight, tigress.”

  “But you fought for me anyway.”

  He lifts his hand and strokes away my bangs that hang in my eyes. “I’ll fight for you from here on out. You’re mine now.” The way he says the last part isn’t threatening. It’s in an affectionate way. Mom would have liked Duvan, I’m sure of it. Dad would have hated him. Bad boys and all that.

  “Can I have more of those pills?”

  He stares at me for a long second. “Not those. Now that we’re home, I have something better.”

  When he comes back with a glass tray, I furrow my brows.

  “Cocaine? I don’t do drugs.”

  “This is your empire now. Your legacy. Know your product, tigress,” he says in a matter-of-fact tone as he messes with the white powder, arranging it into neat lines. “Besides, the shit I gave you before was to calm you down. Now it’s time to perk you up. It’s time to be happy.”

  He snorts a line and I shudder. I can’t do that. No way.

  “Come here.”

  My feet stumble toward him and I eye the tray like it’s diseased.

  “Duvan…”

  “You don’t need that whole line. Look,” he says and takes my finger. He uses my fingernail to scoop up a tiny bit. “Just this amount.” Our eyes meet as he brings the substance to my nose. “Sniff and done.”

  Sniff.

  And.

  Done.

  His eyes are intense and on mine as he swipes away the dust under my nostril.

  “I don’t get what the big deal is…” Blood seems to rush loudly in my ears and my body thrums with electricity. The sadness I was just dwelling on is chased away by a feeling unlike anything I’ve ever felt before.

  I’m flying…

  “I’m going to feed you. Put on something comfy,” he instructs with a wide grin and a wild glint in his eye.

  I’m flying…

  “Tell me something funny,” he orders, his lazy grin never leaving his face all through dinner.

  I pick up my wine glass and frown when I notice it’s empty. “I don’t have anything funny to tell you.”

  He chuckles and motions to get the waiter’s attention. Everyone in the restaurant seems to sneak stares at us. Duvan wasn’t lying when he said we were royalty. The people won’t look him in the eye. They hold doors open for us and pull chairs out for us. They never make us wait.

  “Oh, tigress,” he chides. “You’re going to have to start figuring out what you like. Because when you find it, I’m going to give it to you.”

  I beam at him. The bump we did back at the house has long since dissipated and I’m glad the alcohol has taken over. I’m feeling loose and relaxed.

  “What’ll we do next?”

  “Here,” he says.

  I open my palm and he drops a yellow pill with a smiley face into my hand. “What’s this?”

  He smirks and it makes my heart flutter. “Something funny. Now you know.”

  Laughing, I toss the pill into my mouth and go to chase it with his wine. He pushes my water glass toward me.

  “Chase it with that, mi amor.”

  Mi amor.

  My skin heats and I gladly guzzle the cold water. “Now what?”

  He stands and whistles for the waiter. They exchange a look and the waiter nods. We leave without paying. This is all so weird.

  “All hail King Duvan,” I snort as we leave the restaurant to his waiting car.

  He tickles me, and I squeal as I climb into the vehicle. “So now you know something funny and I know you can laugh. We’re both learning new things at every turn.”

  I lean against his shoulder in the backseat as the driver takes off like a bat out of hell. Duvan rests his palm on my bare knee. The dress I wore has ridden up, giving him a view of my silky thighs. His fingers begin running up and down against my flesh causing me to tingle. The tingling seems to zip right to my core with each caress. By the time we reach the house, I’m squirming with need.

  “Duvan…” I trail off as we climb out of the car and he drags me into the house.

  “What, mi amor?”

  Mi amor.

  I giggle, and his laughter echoes around me. “I like your laugh.”

  He reaches forward and grazes his thumb across my nipple through my dress. “I like your tits in this dress.”

  My entire body quakes with need from his one simple touch. “Why do I feel so happy?”

  His fingers tangle into my hair and he pulls me into a kiss. I moan loud and desperately against his mouth. “Besides being here with me,” he says with a wicked grin. “You’re flying high on Ex.”

  “Ecstasy?”

  He grabs my hand and pulls me through the house. When we reach his massive bedroom—our massive bedroom—he wastes no time in tearing off his shirt. I gape at his colorful chest the moment he bares it to me. The muscles flex and harden as he smiles at me.

  Why does he have to be so hot?

  “Tell me what you really think,” he says smugly.

  I slap my hand over my mouth and giggle. “I said that out loud.”

  He flashes me a smoldering look. “Take your dress off,” he says low, a streak of moonlight illuminating his face in the otherwise darkened room.

  I’m stunned stupid when he shoves his pants down. He isn’t wearing any underwear, and his giant cock bounces heavily out in front of him. I’m staring boldly at it and lick my lips in an effort to wet them.

  It’s so big.

  “Biggest you’ve ever seen,” he confirms, and struts toward me.

  The giggle
s overtake me again at having blurted out my thoughts. But when he begins dragging the dress up my body, I let out an embarrassing moan. I break out in goose bumps everywhere that the fabric touches on my skin.

  “I’m going to make you happy, mi amor.”

  Mi amor.

  “You like it when I call you mi amor?” he asks.

  Shit, I said that out loud.

  He smirks as he tugs my bra from me. When I look down, I’m staring in awe that my panties are missing.

  “Where did my panties go?”

  His laugh warms my soul. “You gave them to me in the car.”

  “I did?”

  He nods and kisses me again. Deep in the recesses of my mind, I scold myself for jumping right into bed with this man. My husband. But right now, the argument is not making a strong enough case against it.

  “Mi amor…”

  “That’s not my name,” I protest.

  He chuckles. “Brie…”

  I swat at him. “I like when you call me tigress. Maul me, Mr. Tiger.”

  His hand seizes my throat, and I stare at him. No fear. No worry. Nothing. He walks me backward with his hand gently gripping my throat. I let out another giggle when he pushes me onto the bed. I’m still laughing at him as he grips my thighs and drags me to the edge of the bed.

  “Are we consummating our marriage?”

  He smirks.

  Jesus.

  I clench my thighs together and he takes great satisfaction in prying them apart. When he lowers himself to his knees, I sit up on my elbows to see what he’s up to. He drags his nose along the slit of my pussy, and I shiver. My nerve endings are alive and sensitive.

  “I’m going to eat this pussy. You’re going to come so hard, you will see motherfucking stars, mi amor.”

  Mi amor.

  Biting my lip, I nod. I want him to make me feel good.

  A low, guttural groan escapes me when his thumbs pull apart the lips and he runs his thick, flat tongue along the most sensitive part of my body.

  “Oh my God!”

  I squirm and try to get away. One lick and it’s too much. It’s intense and I don’t want it, yet I need it.

  “Stay still so I don’t have to tie you up,” he breathes against my pussy.

  Stars.