Queen of Diamonds_A Dark Erotic Romance

by Natalie Bennett

  Jolting into a standing position, I pivoted on my thin four-inch heels and then side-stepped so I could get a good look at the man. It took me less than a second to place his face.

  He was taller than I initially thought. My heels boosted my five-three height to a good five-eight-ish, and he still easily towered above me. I drank in his black on black suit sans tie, golden luminescent skin, and high cheekbones.

  He had a masculine jawline adorned with neatly trimmed stubble. His head full of envious, thick, jet-black hair was manipulated in a way that made it look sleek yet graceful. Blinking a glare away, I looked into a pair of strikingly bold whiskey-colored eyes surrounded by a hazel ring–the oddest set of hues I’d ever seen.

  Handsome, beautiful, sexy–those words were too simplistic and dull to describe a man like him.

  He was spellbindingly exotic.

  The sun made the heat refract around his solid frame, giving him the appearance of a dark mirage.

  He was a man who screamed money, and knew just how to spend it.

  At my lingering silence he took the initiative to lead the conversation.

  “I was on my way out and saw you standing out here all alone,” he explained in the same soft manner. I watched his mouth move as if that would give me the answer as to how it was possible for a voice to sound so damn smooth. His fluid Portuguese accent curved around every word.

  Realizing what I was doing, I forced my eyes back to his, feeling as if he could see straight through my tinted lens.

  If circumstances were different and I wasn’t afraid I’d lose control of myself I would have told him exactly what I was thinking and asked him out. He was by far the most attractive man I’d ever seen.

  I had heavy aversions to rich, corrupted men in suits. For him, I could see myself making an exception.

  It was a terrible idea. A man like him would be detrimental to my overall well-being. It was always the most beautiful things that were the most lethal.

  I shrank back the slightest bit, crossing my arms over my chest. “You saw me standing here and decided to come offer your condolences, or…?”

  He gave me a studious once over, taking in every inch of my person from head to toe.

  His intrusive gaze landed back on my face.

  It took a great deal of effort not to shift about uncomfortably from the look I saw in his eyes. He was looking at me like he knew exactly who I really was.

  “Oh, I’m sure you’ve heard plenty of those already. I merely wanted to get a closer look at your pretty face and make sure you were okay.

  I didn’t want to bother you during the ceremony for obvious reasons.” His full lips tilted up into a smile, making deep dimples appear in the center of his cheeks.

  It was a smile I knew had gotten him whatever he wanted many times before.

  He wielded it like a weapon, and was momentarily successful as it became bittersweet kryptonite to my stoicism.

  I tucked my chin to my chest and slowly shook my head. I wasn’t mentally equipped to deal with him. Uncrossing my arms, I flashed him a sweet smile. “Thank you for...checking on me. I should get back inside now.”

  Without waiting for him to respond, I shuffled past, breathing in deeply as I did. The scent of his cologne wrapped around me and I committed the smell of audacious warm cinnamon and blood mandarin to memory.

  It was the kind of scent you wanted your pillow the morning after a night of sweaty sex.

  Something about it was loosely familiar but I didn’t dwell on that too long.

  As I walked back towards the building, I kept my eyes trained on the door. I was a little surprised when he followed, easily matching my stride.

  “You’re just going to walk away?” He moved ahead of me and stepped right into my clear-cut path, giving me no choice but to stop. “I can’t say many women have done that before.”

  “You didn’t do anything that enticed me to stay. And there’s a first time for everything.” I kept my voice steady even as my stomach flip-flopped from his close proximity. I didn’t step back, though. I wasn’t going to give him that small satisfaction.

  He raised his perfect dark brows in thinly veiled amusement. “You are very different to how I thought you’d be,” he replied without missing a beat.

  “Is…that a bad thing?” I re-crossed my arms and eyed him again. He looked even better on my second sweep.

  I couldn’t find a single flaw in his looks. The intensity––the power––effusing off him in waves made him ten times more attractive.

  Damn, he was yummy. This man probably had ninety-nine percent of women throwing their underwear at him with the crook of a finger. I didn’t fall into immunity with the one percent. I understood my immediate visceral attraction towards him all too well.

  It was the unfamiliar energy between us that worried me. It would need to be swiftly terminated. His inquisitive eyes remained locked on my face. I imagined this was how a rabbit felt when a wolf cornered it and it still tried to be brave. My heart could probably be seen beating through my chest; despite the temptation, I refused to look down for confirmation.

  “Look, I’m sure you’re a nice guy–––.”

  “I’m not.” He instantly cut me off.

  I gnawed on my lower lip and frowned at him. “You’re not a nice guy?”

  A slow mischievous smile spread across his face. “Oh, amada, I think you know exactly what I am.”

  Well, I knew all the rumors about him and what his role in these parts was. The notorious Mateo Remmington–heir of the elite más alto-old money empire.

  Remmington Hill Estates was the sole development of the Remmington family. They owned Vice City entirely. They were as old money as one could get. They were the gods and monsters in our clandestine world of exclusivity. Their notoriety had no bounds.

  “You’re right, I don’t know you, but I know of you, Mr. Remmington–––.”

  He scoffed at my use of his surname. I continued as if I hadn’t heard him. “Though I don’t see how you wouldn’t already know that, considering you’re so much of a–––.”

  Pulling my lower lip between my teeth, I abruptly stopped myself from finishing that sentence.

  “Considering I’m so much of a notorious criminal whose reputation always precedes him?” he tossed out unabashedly.

  “I was going to say considering you’re so much of a hot commodity but I guess your description would be more spot on.”

  “Don’t think I’ve ever been called a hot commodity before, either.” He stared at me a moment with an unreadable look on his face. “I’d say I’m sorry for your loss, but I’m not, so why lie? However, I am sorry for your pain. I can help with that, if you want.”

  I didn’t know whether to be appalled at how big of an asshole he just proved he was, or in awe for the same reason. I found myself laughing in spite of his callousness. The sound registered in my brain as completely foreign. I hadn’t done that in what felt like ages.

  “Somehow, I don’t think your penis would cure what ails me right now, but if you have a business card we can set something up,” I said sardonically.

  “Excuse me?” He slightly tilted his head. “You thought I was offering to…fuck you? Though I’ve been told my cock is magical, and I’ve no doubt it would make you feel things you’ve never thought imaginable, I was only offering to lend a listening ear.”

  My face flushed but I wasn’t embarrassed. It would take a lot more than dirty words to do that. His straightforwardness seemed to be a natural part of his personality. He didn’t mince words or pussyfoot around–I had to admit I liked that about him.

  It was vitally refreshing.

  And as for the apology, he said it with such sincerity I found myself questioning if he didn’t really know the truth.

  Did he really believe my sister was dead?

  Or was he simply baiting me to see how much I knew?

  Sudden unease slithered down my spine and killed the fluttering in my stomach.


  This was precisely why my grandmother and uncle argued that we needed to pretend we were mourning her too.

  He didn’t seem inclined to leave me alone and my usual brush-off would no doubt piss him off if I hadn’t done so already. I needed to tread carefully.

  Mateo was a man only foolish people spoke ill of and no one dared challenge. Yet, here I was speaking to him in a manner I’m sure anyone else would have lost their tongue over as if I’d known him forever.

  Can we say suicidal? Getting on his bad side was as good as signing your own death certificate and hand delivering it straight to the devil.

  He came with an elaborate, bold red warning label to ward off girls like me from getting to close to him.

  It couldn’t be any more ill-advised. That was where my problem lied. I had never been any good at being a good girl. I was defective at doing what I logically knew I should.

  A man who came with a warning label was so much more interesting than a man who was guaranteed to be mundane.

  With all that in mind, I chose my next words with caution so I could make a clean break away from him.

  “Well, I appreciate the offer but I should really be getting back inside before my grandmother comes looking for me.”

  He silently regarded me long enough to make me question if I’d somehow offended him in spite of my efforts not to.

  “I think what you meant to say is that you want nothing to do with me, and I’m making you uncomfortable.”

  I prepared to promptly deny his assumption but as if he could read my mind, a warning flashed in his eyes and I remained silent.

  “I’m well adept at listening without hearing words and seeing what others seek to hide. You have much to learn Minha Beleza,” he said quietly.

  I had no viable response to that.

  If anything, I was irritated with myself for assuming I could fool him with a boogie persona. To save face, I chose to focus instead on whatever it was he’d just called me.

  “What does that mean?”

  “Meet me for breakfast tomorrow morning, and I’ll tell you,” he shot back in a casual tone that was unmistakably a demand.

  “I’m not a breakfast person.”

  “You should be. It’s the most important meal of the day.”

  He sounded so serious I had to bite the inside of my cheek so I wouldn’t laugh in his face again.

  “Lunch, then,” he continued.

  “Do you usually try to pick up women at funerals? Isn’t that a bit tactless, not to mention arrogant, and desperate?”

  “It’s brazen, confident, and determined,” he corrected. “And you’re not women nor are we at a funeral.”

  Touché.

  Another grin aimed at me chipped a bit more of my icy demeanor.

  “So if you’re not here for my aunt or my sister, what are you here for?”

  His smile slowly faded and he glanced down at me with a look on his face of something akin to deep contemplation.

  “I owed someone a favor.”

  When he didn’t elaborate I knew it was meant for me not to know his business.

  “Well, thank you for your brute honesty on one of the worst days of my life, but I really should go back in now.”

  “You’re welcome but this isn’t the worst day of your life. Well maybe it is, but it’s also the best.”

  “How do you figure that?”

  “Because you met me,” he retorted smoothly.

  “Because I met––okay Casanova, that was pretty good, and like five percent cheesy, but I won’t tell a soul if you don’t tell I almost swooned,” I laughed.

  He grinned, sending the flutters up again and bringing forth his fucking dimples. “It may have been cheesy but it worked.”

  “What worked?”

  “You’re smiling.”

  Oh, damn he was good.

  “You’re pretty when you’re sad, but you’re gorgeous when you’re happy.”

  Before I could open my mouth and say anything back, he surprised me by reaching up and smoothing the pad of his thumb across my lower lip.

  “Meu,” he said with a harsh finality, dropping his hand before I could knock it away.

  His deep voice, coupled with the intense way he was looking at me, caused an unwelcome sensation to blossom in my stomach. He glanced away at something for a brief second and then back at my face.

  “Welcome home, Elena.” He took hold of one of my hands and pressed a lingering kiss to the back. Had he been anyone else, the move would have been over the top, but with him I felt like I’d just received a serenade from a royal and should swoon, fluttering my lashes.

  “If you ever want that talk.” He winked and stepped away, and then ambled towards the parking lot where a black Mercedes sat idling with two large SUV’s waiting behind it.

  He gave me one last disarming smile over his shoulder before getting in the passenger seat. I caught a glimpse of another man in a suit before the car lurched forward and disappeared from view.

  What the entire hell just happened?

  That was hands down the most exciting encounter I’d ever had in my life.

  He just blew every preconceived notion I had him out of the water. I thought he was supposed to be sadistic and unsmiling.

  His owing a favor spiel honestly had me confused. Who here could he owe something to that had anything to do with me?

  I rolled my lips together to get rid of the lingering feel of his finger wondering, what he had said in his native tongue. I was still staring at the spot where the car had been when a low whistle had me turning my head to the right.

  I squinted watching her come closer. When her features started taking shape, I took off towards her with as much poise as I could muster in heels, trying not to bust my ass.

  “I was coming to check on you and saw all whatever that was,” she said as soon as she was close enough to throw her arms around me in a bone-crushing hug. I hugged her back, catching a whiff of her rose-scented perfume when I pulled away.

  “And you just had to watch?”

  “Girl, I wasn’t going to not watch. Plus, he marked you,” she smirked.

  “He marked me?”

  “I told you he would.”

  “How did you get that from a five-minute conversation you couldn’t hear?”

  “I saw the way he was looking at you––like you just fell from the damn sky.” She threw her hands up to emphasize her point.

  She tilted her head, studying me with an unveiled curiosity. “Since you told me about one hundred times not to ask you a certain question this day, I’ll start with the fact that, Lena, you look gorg!” she beamed.

  I returned her smile, genuinely.

  She knew not ask the dreaded questions that seemed to come with funerals. She wouldn’t point out how I looked like the girl everyone thought was in the empty coffin.

  Only the person responsible for my aunt’s death would know my sister wasn’t in the ground beside her.

  “You look amazing, too.”

  The woman in front of me was not the same Melody Belluci I’d been best friends with since middle school. That waif thin, sloppy ponytailed girl had been replaced by a woman whose dark hair was piled on her head in a meticulous up-do wearing a navy dress that clung to a naturally toned figure.

  “The teen years were good to me.” She shrugged off my compliment. “I want to say I’m glad you’re back but considering what today is and why you had to come, I’d feel like a vain bitch.”

  “I can’t believe I’m back either. Never thought I would be,” I sighed wistfully.

  “Speaking of being back, what are you doing here? I told you to finish your trip.”

  “Hmm, lounge on a beach and drink cocktails, or go home to support my best-friend, who I haven’t seen in two years on what has to be one of the hardest days of her life?

  The decision was such a hard one to come to,” she said sardonically, giving me a small smile.

  The glass entry door flew open and the m
an I had been ready to ask about next walked out, just as dramatic as ever. If Melody’s hug was bone crushing his was debilitating.

  “I’m so glad to have you back.” He shook me back and forth, crushing my face into his solid chest.

  “Don’t break her Peyton,” Melody chided with a smile, smacking his arm.

  “The way her body feels she can take a lot more than that.” He let go and smiled down at me with a wink, his hazel eyes as full of life as always. I smirked at his lobster bow-tie and blonde coiffed hair. He hadn’t changed a bit.

  “People are starting to leave. Didn’t think you’d wanna be the last one here. And you should let me take you to eat something before I drop you off at home.”

  “I think that sounds like the best idea I’ve heard in a long time.”

  There was no need to explain to them how badly I didn’t want to go back to the house that held memories of a childhood that ended in tragedy.

  Chapter Three

  My mother told me all a whore wants is to be loved. My father told me no sane man would give a whore what they desired most.

  They both agreed after a certain number of bodies that, the whore was better off dead.

  I sat in an iron wicker chair, stroking the stubble on my chin with my thumb and studying the two women in front of me.

  My brother Elias and our cousin Sergio joined me at the round patio table, indulging in Cobb salads and silently watching the show.

  The two women were beautiful like most of my whores were.

  It was almost a shame what they had resorted to, selling what had once been supple bodies for money to married men and tourists who made empty promises and left them with nothing but soreness between their legs. The one on the left was actually a regular my father used.

  That wasn’t my problem, though. It was, however, a large problem for her because my mother was no longer tolerant of her presence.

  “And neither of you have any idea what this book looks like?”

  They shook their heads in unison.

  “Speak up.”

  “N-no, Patrón, of course not.” The one on the right answered.

  I’d asked this question three times, giving each of them ample opportunity to tell the truth. Neither did. And I knew this because the man I sent to fuck them was one of my Falcons.