by V. F. Mason
Her slap comes so swiftly I barely have time to blink, her palm bouncing off Florian’s cheek and leaving a red imprint on his skin.
Florian’s jaw tics, but otherwise he shows no outer reaction while Jimena breathes heavily, each of her words steelier than the previous one. “Did you really think I’d want to be with you after you ran away like a coward? How delusional could you be?” She digs her finger in his chest, nothing but fury visible on her face. “Newsflash, darling, no dick on this planet is good enough to make me a doormat. Especially not yours.” She flips her dark hair back, the locks falling over her shoulder while her hands smooth down her red summer dress. “I’m pregnant. I thought you deserved to hear it from me. So now, sincerely, go fuck yourself, Florian.” She spins around, and walks off right past me, not even noticing me while the elevator dings and opens its doors.
Florian looks in her direction before getting inside, and I see him slam his fist on the wall so hard he rattles it before the door shuts out his roar.
“Oh my God,” I whisper.
Jimena is pregnant, and Santiago is going to kill Florian once he hears about this.
One word that describes this situation perfectly is mess.
Maybe that’s why people shouldn't stick their noses in somebody else’s business and eavesdrop.
Rubbing my head from the forming headache, I turn around and slowly go back to the main area, the heavy music playing so loudly the floor vibrates under my shoes while the smell of cigarettes and alcohol floats in the air.
Spotting Jimena and Lenora back at the booth, I compose myself to hopefully not show my emotions on my face, and make this night less shitty for everyone involved.
Because apparently, where the Cortezes are, their drama follows.
Someone grabs my elbow, and I see a man around my age, giving me a boyish smile that emphasizes the dimples on his cheeks. “Hey, beautiful. I haven't seen you before. Would you like to dance?”
I smile pleasantly and carefully remove my elbow from his hold. “No, thank you.”
“Then let me buy you and your friends drinks? As an homage to your beauty.” He opens his mouth to say something else, but his eyes cloud with confusion, quickly transforming into fear, and he steps back as a strong, brawny hand wraps around my waist and pulls me back to a muscled chest. The masculine smell filling my senses lets me know who it is without turning back. Although I would have recognized him by the heat his body radiates, instantly warming me up from head to toe. “Santiago,” he greets him, nervously grinning and shoving his hands inside his pockets.
“No one touches my wife, Steven.” His voice stays calm and even, but I don't miss the possessiveness ringing in every word. “Don’t repeat such a mistake again.”
“Duly noted. Didn’t know she was the bride. Congratulations on the wedding, man.” He doesn't even spare me a glance as he runs away toward the bar.
“You shouldn't have done that,” I tell him, slapping his arm and trying to wiggle free, but he only tightens it around me, running his nose over my neck and sending goose bumps over my skin.
“He shouldn't have touched you.” His other hand slides down my arm, the thumb brushing against my elbow gently, yet the harsh voice whispering in my ear is anything but. “And he wouldn't have had the chance if you didn't come here without me.”
I bristle in annoyance, ignoring the rapid beating of my heart and the scorching heat traveling through my system at his caveman ways that turn me on despite common sense. “Well then, maybe you shouldn't have ditched me at your parents’ place.”
Placing his lips on my neck, he bites on the skin hard, and a moan escapes me when he immediately licks the sore flesh before sucking on it, no doubt leaving a hickey.
Territorial jerk marks me as if I’m a horse!
Desire rushes through my veins, my body apparently doesn't mind a public display of attention as long as it means having his touch on me. I tug on his arm, wanting to go forward, and momentarily catch Jimena and Lenora looking anywhere but at us.
However, I can physically feel almost everyone’s eyes on us, and it unsettles me, my cheeks heating up, so I slap at his arm again. “Stop it. People are staring,” I hiss and sigh in relief when he lets me go, only to gasp when he spins me around, hugs me so close my curves mold to his every muscle, and sending hot flashes all over my body.
He tangles his fingers in my hair, fisting it so hard my eyes water, and then tilts my head back, leaning closer, his breath fanning my cheeks. “Let’s make it clear for everyone around here who you belong to, shall we? So everyone knows you’re mi esposa.” He slams his mouth on mine, swallowing my whimper when his tongue thrusts inside, exploring my mouth, as he seeks mine, brushing against it over and over again while he pulls me closer and closer to him, almost not letting me breathe.
The kiss he gives is passionate, hot, and so deep it feels like he wants to forever imprint himself in me, make me remember only his mouth on mine and never question who has such power over my body.
Ignoring common sense and voices in the background mostly muted by the music, I wrap my arms around his neck, pressing into him as he continues to ravage my mouth. It sends prickles through me and fills my core with the intense desire that demands to be soothed right here and now.
We breathe heavily into each other’s mouth as he traps my lower lip between his teeth, pulling it and nibbling a little, leaving a sting before nipping my chin and then connecting our mouths again. This time though, the intrusion is gentler, his tongue lazily dueling with mine while his hands slide to my hips, his fingers gripping me so hard I moan. His erection subtly pushing into me drives me insane, my nipples peaking against the dress’s silky material.
He holds me prisoner in his embrace, his mouth dominating mine as if he owns my body and soul. The outside world ceases to exist, leaving only my husband, who is a monster in disguise, yet the lust filling every pore and heating up my blood makes it impossible to resist him.
The need for him consumes me, the desire to be close to him yet run away at war. The fact that I don't know what hides behind his heart confuses me, while the want to know all his secrets scares me.
The man who should be my greatest enemy somehow is the only man on this planet in whose arms I feel safe and protected but also cherished, even if his blackmail brought me here.
Santiago slowly ends the kiss, giving me light pecks while still holding me close. My eyes snap open when his thumb brushes over my lips that must be swollen, his sapphire orbs flaming so hard it leaves no doubt similar desires drive him. He hugs me, moving locks of my hair to the side as he rests his head in the crook between my shoulder and neck, whispering into my ear. “Querida, your mouth should be forbidden.”
Trembling a little, I ask, “Why?”
“Because with one kiss, all I want to do is fuck you hard on that bar counter and claim you for everyone to see.” I whimper, and he chuckles, tickling the hair on my nape. “You would like that, wouldn't you? Me spreading your thighs apart and eating you out while everyone watches how your skin flushes. Listening to those fucking moans slipping past your mouth that’s trouble with a capital T, and how you come apart in my arms. Every woman would wish to be you while every fucking man would want to trade places with me.” He bites on my earlobe before running his tongue over it, the images he creates in my head making me so wet I’m afraid to move, but still he continues. “I could do this and thousands of other things inside my club, and no one would bat an eye.” His fingers grip my hips so painfully I shift in distress, but of course he doesn’t let me. “Yet I won’t do any of those things no matter how much the need rides me hard, because you belong to me and only me. I don't share my woman with other men. Not even the idea of her.” He leans back and palms my head, a smile shaping his mouth as he winks at me. “So remember that when you come to my club without me.”
That’s when I notice how almost everyone is looking at us, some even snapping pictures, so our kiss will probably blow up all
over social media, and the familiar shame fills me once again at how easily I succumbed to him, but more so in front of everyone else.
And who knows who else experienced this with him here.
Stepping back from him, I tell him quietly, “I hope you enjoyed the show.”
He shakes his head. “It wasn't a show. Just letting everyone know who owns this body. So if anyone dares to be tempted by it, they will pay a high price.”
I don’t even bother to comment on this ridiculous statement. “Were you this possessive and obsessive with your other women too, or were they lucky enough to get the bar counter experience?” I regret the words the minute they spill out, not only because they’re coated in jealousy, which probably amuses him to no end, and shows my vulnerabilities.
But also because I’m afraid of what he will say, and then I’ll never step inside this club ever again.
I’m not sure why I even care, all things considered. I have bigger things to worry about.
Like him killing people.
Santiago, however, doesn’t laugh or tease me. Instead, he tells me, “I’ve never kissed anyone before.” Blinking in surprise at this revelation, I gape at him in disbelief, because… what? How in hell is that possible? “No need to get territorial, querida. I don't get obsessive or possessive over anyone but you. Nor did I engage in public displays of affection in the past.” He runs his hand over my hair. “Eres muy especial.”
The butterflies flutter in my stomach, this knowledge warming my stupid heart that likes the idea of being somewhat special to him, but I’m still angry at his behavior.
He doesn’t get to tell me he’ll treat me like his wife only to ditch me as if I have no opinion and then order me around on where to go and with whom.
So I tell him before darting toward the booth, “Well, I’ve kissed a lot of guys.” Not exactly the truth, I think five guys hardly counts as a lot, but then he doesn't need to know it, right?
I manage to reach the table before he catches up with me, the dark look in his eyes letting me know I’m going to pay for that later, and shivers run down my spine in anticipation.
My brows rise seeing Remi sitting with them, smoking a cigar, while the girls engage in some conversation, but I don't miss the subtle glances Lenora throws Remi’s way.
She grins at me. “The blushing bride is back from her make-out session. I started to think you’d dance off to your honeymoon.”
I touch my flaming cheeks and stick my tongue out at her, and she laughs then shifts her focus to my husband. “We haven't met before, but it doesn't matter. I love my friend, so please treat her well. Otherwise, we’re going to have problems.” She extends her hand to him. “Lenora.”
Santiago’s mouth tips in amusement. He shakes her hand and says, “It works both ways. If you don’t treat her well, she won’t have a friend.” I tense at this, recognizing the truth ringing in his sentence and clearly letting Lenora know he doesn't give a fuck about her threats and instead dished out his own.
And compared to her, he can deliver, at least in his mind.
He’ll learn to accept this friendship if he wants a long-lasting relationship.
“I knew I’d like you. You had this aura about you.” She snatches her hand back and checks the time on her phone. “I think I’m gonna go now. I have a morning call with Amalia to look over several designs before I fly to New York.”
Remi’s cigar pauses midway to his mouth, and he tears his orbs away from the dance floor and gives my friend all his attention, his eyes narrowing a fraction.
Waving away the smoke around us, I reply, “Right. I hope you’ll have time, and we can meet before you leave.” We haven't managed to interact much tonight, and besides, it was only to reassure her I’m all right anyway.
“Works for me.” She gets up and opens her arms wide, hugging me tightly and rocking us from side to side. “I hate I wasn’t the maid of honor, but I’m really, really happy you found the one,” she murmurs for my ears only and bounces back, picking up her phone. “I’m gonna order a cab and be on my way.”
Remi gets up, his moves so graceful and flawless, they remind me of a panther prowling through the forest. “I’ll drive you home.”
Lenora’s eyes widen, but she quickly shakes her head. “Oh, no need. I don't want to trouble anyone.”
“I was about to leave anyway.” He then offers Jimena, “Do you need a ride home too?”
Jimena, who mostly stayed quite during this exchange, musters up a smile for him, although I can still see traces of sadness that she masks so well. “If you don't mind.” She slides out, and he pulls her to him, throwing his arm over her shoulders and kissing her on the cheek.
“Of course not, darling. When have I ever?”
She pats his chest, and while the embrace could have been considered romantic, it doesn't even feel that way. But it makes me question why she fell for Florian when I can see Remi being so affectionate with her?
Unless the fact that her family practically raised him factors into it, and they see each other as siblings?
She blows Santiago and me a kiss. “See you at breakfast tomorrow.”
“Bye, babe,” Lenora says as they pass us, and Remi nods at me while he gets a chin lift from Santiago.
Once they are on the dance floor, pushing through couples to go outside, I say, “Remi hasn’t been my favorite person, but thank him for being nice to my friend.”
Santiago snorts. “Nice, my ass. He never does anything if it doesn't benefit him or moves him toward his goal.”
Picking up the glass, I throw my own question. “And giving my friend a ride benefits him how?”
He doesn't answer though, not that I care much as long as the dude doesn't hurt my friend. At least I can be safe in the knowledge he lusts after some woman in New York.
Wait a minute…
Santiago doesn’t let me dwell on it, as he must remember his sister’s parting words, because he asks me, “Breakfast?”
“Your mother invited us to stay with them tonight, and I’ve agreed. So we will have a family breakfast tomorrow.”
If looks could kill, I’d be dead right now.
A server passes us by, and Santiago snatches the tequila bottle from the tray. After flicking the lid and taking a gulp, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “What did you just say?” Although his tone stays calm and even, anger and rage simmer on the edges of it, sending shivers down my spine. I step back a little, the booth’s seat bumping against my thigh.
“She wanted a family breakfast, so I agreed.”
“You agreed.” He repeats my words, a hollow chuckle slipping past his lips, and he gulps more of his drink before continuing. “My conversation with Dad didn't give you just a little hint that I wouldn’t like this decision?”
I swallow past the lump in my throat as I see him squeeze the bottle so tightly his knuckles turn white. Because I’m afraid it might crack at any minute, I reply, “Since you left me there alone, your feelings didn't factor in my decision.”
His eyes flash dangerously, the icy stare blazing so intensely I shrink inwardly, hating how in a matter of minutes he turned from the man who couldn't wait to fuck me, into a man whose hands probably itch to strangle my neck.
Instead, he swings the bottle up again, gulping it greedily. His Adam’s apple bobs, bringing attention to his flawless neck, and then he puts the bottle on the table. “You won this time, my wife.” He leans closer, trapping my chin between his fingers and tilting my head a little so I can't escape his gaze. “Let it be my apology.” I gasp when his fingers dig harder into my skin before his knuckles run over my cheek as his voice drops to a cold whisper. “But if you ever side with anyone else, be it my mother or my enemy against me….” He trails off, letting my imagination build my own images of what such punishment will entail, but for some reason, guilt travels through me when I don’t hear anger in his voice.
Rather, irrational hurt as if me ignoring his feelings on the matter cr
ushed some part of him. That’s impossible, right?
Monsters don’t experience pain and hurt. They inflict it on others.
Why then does my heart get heavy at the look on his face that he quickly masks? Everything inside me screams to make it right, and I open my mouth to explain that his mother put me in a situation where I couldn’t refuse, when a deep and husky voice from behind him freezes us both.
“Ah, is the marital bliss already over?”
Santiago half turns, maneuvering me so I’m pressed to his side, and my eyes widen when they settle on the two men standing in front of us.
They are both tall, almost the same height. Their broad shoulders showcase their muscular physiques while their auras scream danger and power to anyone and anything around them.
I have no doubt that rarely anyone crosses these two men, and if anyone is stupid enough to do so… they pay a high price for it, which probably amuses the two, judging by the cold smiles marring their features.
However, that’s where similarities end and differences begin.
Focusing my gaze first on the one on the right, I notice his dark hair that ends slightly below his ears, while his brown eyes appear to hold secrets no one will ever crack. He’s wearing a leather jacket, jeans, and a T-Shirt plastered so tightly against his chest it shows perfectly his carved six-pack. Although the handsomeness of the man disappears rapidly when I detect the edge swirling around him as if warning of his cruel nature.
Shifting my attention to the one on the left, my gaze sweeps over him, and I start to think maybe the one on the right isn't so bad, because this one is positively lethal.
His hair is made into a man bun, but the unusual blue with the ends colored in orange reminds me of fire spreading while the orange flicks entwine with the blue. His gray eyes stay absolutely cold, no emotion or expression visible in them, making it seem as if he’s not even human. Several tattoos marking his neck and chest are visible because of the V of his T-Shirt, which plasters against his form. He too is wearing blue jeans. Despite the slightly colder weather, the man appears unfazed by it, since he has no other clothes on him.
