Violent Triumphs (White Monarch Book 3)

by Jessica Hawkins

  “Ah, thank you for saying so, mi amor.” Cristiano winked and turned back to Alejandro. “I assume you did more than knock him down.”

  Alejo dipped his head marginally. “Not in front of the lady.”

  “And your parents?” Cristiano asked Pilar.

  She nodded. “I said just what Alejandro wanted me to.”

  My focus faltered with Cristiano’s hand still resting on my leg. My mind had begun to register that when it came to sex, Cristiano would always wait for some kind of cue to proceed. With the promise of his fingers so close, my stomach somersaulted.

  “What?” I asked, sounding as dazed as I felt. “What did Alejo tell you to say?”

  “Alejandro gave me instructions,” Pilar offered.

  “They came from Cristiano,” Alejo said.

  Tasha looked back and forth, as if watching a tennis match, and not a very exciting one. Every now and then, she sighed at her plate.

  “I told Manu and my parents I wasn’t going through with the marriage,” Pilar said, “and that I was coming here to work. For Cristiano. Against my will.”

  Against her will. The lie was for the best. Being here with me was better than the future with Manu she’d been unable to avoid on her own. And it perpetuated the myths surrounding Cristiano and the Badlands. I understood why Cristiano wanted that—but how did he feel that so many people thought he was the same kind of evil he fought against?

  Was he able to employ logic to remove his emotion from the situation?

  Or did it cut deeply, and he’d gotten good at hiding it?

  “I confirmed your marriage was a sham,” Pilar continued, glancing from me to Cristiano and back, “and that Cristiano had only done it to forge the alliance with Costa, but that both Natalia and I were unharmed.”

  Two servers entered and placed steak and baked potatoes in front of us.

  “Thank you—for letting me stay,” Pilar added, and I could see her trying to be gracious to a man she’d feared for so long. “But my family never let me do anything. Just work in their shop and try to find a husband. I’d like to pull my weight, maybe help around the house, or—”

  “We can get you your own place if you like,” Cristiano said. “Help you start a business—whatever you want.”

  “What do you want?” I asked her.

  She sat back. “No sé. I . . . I’m not sure.”

  That didn’t surprise me. I doubted neither her parents nor Manu had ever asked. “You can start over here.”

  “Can I change my name?” she rushed out.

  The four of us just looked at her. It was both a small and enormous request.

  One dinner, and Pilar was coming out of her shell. Perhaps she’d believed what I’d been trying to tell her about Cristiano. Or maybe it was Alejandro’s presence that comforted her. I was pretty sure they’d been spending some time together—another reason, I suspected, I hadn’t seen much of her.

  “Well . . . of course,” Cristiano answered. “Countless people within these walls have changed their identities.”

  “Esmeralda,” Alejandro said, suddenly laser-focused on cutting his steak. “It’s, ah, a good name.”

  “Yes.” I picked up his line of thinking. “For her emerald eyes.”

  Pilar smiled to herself. “Esmeralda. It’s pretty.”

  “It suits you,” I said.

  “This is very touching,” Tasha said, “pero, por Dios, is it boring. I don’t understand why none of you are discussing what really matters.” Her teeth scraped her fork as she took a bite, chewed, and swallowed within seconds. “Almost two weeks have passed, and Max is still missing. You haven’t struck back, and it makes you look weak.”

  “Don’t mistake strategy for weakness,” I said.

  “You’ve run out of time for strategy. It’s time for action,” she said, looking from me to Cristiano. “A true crime lord would never let this happen.”

  “Tasha . . .” Cristiano warned.

  “Nobody even knows where Max is,” I said. “It’s better to strike quietly, when they least expect it, once we’re certain of his location.”

  “That could take months. In fact, you may never know his exact location. And every day that passes, people talk.” Tasha dabbed the corners of her mouth with a napkin. “You look even weaker for the fact that the truth is coming out.”

  Cristiano looked at his plate and didn’t deny it.

  “Go on,” I invited.

  “Calavera’s ruthless reputation has been enhanced by the mystery shrouding them. But with these attacks, and Cristiano’s refusal to arm certain cartels, it’s becoming popular gossip that Calavera is working for the wrong side.”

  “Because he isn’t trafficking anyone—he’s helping them,” I said.

  “Right,” Tasha said. “How do you think that makes him look? Like a traitor. And not just to Belmonte-Ruiz.”

  I’d heard it twice from Tasha now. Even Alejandro had seemed to think it was possible. But Cristiano had yet to bring it up to me. “Is this true?” I asked him.

  He looked up at me. “Give me a moment with my wife.”

  Alejandro stood first, picking up his plate. “We’ll move to the kitchen.”

  Pilar followed suit, but Tasha took her time pushing her half-eaten dinner away and rising from her seat. “Ignoring the problem won’t make it go away,” she said. “And it will get Max killed.”

  I followed Tasha with my eyes until she’d made her way through the room and disappeared up the staircase.

  “Tell me what’s going on,” I said.

  Cristiano sat back in his seat and crossed his arms. I got the sense he hadn’t dismissed the others so we could talk candidly. “Don’t question me in front of others.”

  “I didn’t.”

  “Did I not make myself clear earlier?” he asked. “I told you the topic was closed during dinner.”

  Ah. Well. If he didn’t want to discuss business, then I didn’t mind changing the subject at all. And since he kept insisting he was better, then there was no reason to keep letting him off the hook. I raised my chin. “Then tell me this. Why is Tasha still here? Who is she to you?”

  7

  Natalia

  Cristiano ate his last bite of steak the way he had all the others—chewing fast and hard before washing it down with a gulp of wine. Injured or not, he held true to his claims that he ate as if someone might take his plate away before he was finished. “Chin-chin.” He raised his wineglass. “Brindis, a mi bella esposa.”

  “Toasting ‘your beautiful wife’ won’t get you out of answering my question,” I said. “Why is Tasha still here? And what does it mean that people are learning the truth about your business?”

  “Her family has an extensive network here and in Eastern Europe.” Sucking his teeth, he set down his glass. “She knows this world well and is good for information, so she’s been helping me find things on Belmonte-Ruiz. But ask me to send her away, and I will.”

  “Send her away.”

  He paused and tilted his head, clearly unprepared for that answer. “Why?”

  How could he even ask? Did he not see the way she looked at him? At me? “She’s pressuring you to make rash decisions.”

  “Nobody pressures me to do anything,” he said. “And I’m nothing if not thorough.”

  “Remember, you were going to charge in guns blazing after Max was taken without even considering it could be a trap. I talked you down. You think you’re immune—that you can do no wrong and survive anything.”

  “This again. I understand your point of view—I have heard it. I have heard Alejandro’s.” His silverware clattered to his plate. “I’ve made a decision, and you will stand behind it. Alejandro and his team will leave tomorrow.”

  “Why? Because Tasha bruised your ego?”

  He curled his hand into a fist on the table. “How do you think it looks to have you question me? Argue with me? I told you I didn’t want to discuss any of this at the dinner table, yet you and Tasha push
me.”

  “Then let’s instead discuss how you told her our marriage means nothing—that’s none of her business.”

  “Haven’t you discussed our arrangement with Pilar?”

  “That’s different.”

  “How?”

  “I was confiding in Pilar, not trying to sleep with her.”

  “Ah.” He gripped the arms of his chair and crossed an ankle over one knee, looking amused. “Is that why you think I told Tasha you mean nothing to me?”

  “Why else? You were out of town. It would’ve been the perfect excuse.” I shifted in my seat, discomfited over the idea of Cristiano at the political event with another woman on his arm. Especially statuesque, cunning Tasha, a guest in our home. “An arranged, celibate marriage means you wouldn’t technically be cheating.”

  “You think Tasha cares if I cheat on my wife? If I wanted to fuck her, I would. Don’t I have every right to? My own wife won’t even sleep in my bed.”

  My face warmed at his bluntness. “I’ve removed any temptation—for your own good.”

  “We’re hardly alone. And when we are, you’re always moving around. There are constantly people in my room, and at night, you go to the couch.” One eyebrow rose. “Perhaps if you treated me like your husband instead of a pariah, she’d get the message.”

  “I don’t treat you that way.” I frowned. “I’ve been a good wife to you. On one point, I won’t back down—your recovery is my priority. I won’t allow you to risk your health for Max, or so you can get laid.” The hint of a smile on his face only spurred me on. “If that makes me the villain while Tasha treats you like a superhero, then fine. But I want you alive and strong.”

  He ran one hand down his chin, his eyes unnervingly fixed on me. “Get laid?” He chuckled. “You don’t have to sit on my cock to make me feel wanted around here. All I ask is to have you at my dinner table and in my bed.”

  I inhaled through my nose. It hadn’t been my intention to spurn him, only to make things less difficult. As it was, the heat of his stare could conjure all the promises he’d made over the past few weeks—to erase Diego. To show me what it was to have my virginity taken. To wreck me. “I don’t . . . I don’t trust myself to sleep by your side.”

  He ran the tip of his tongue over his bottom row of teeth, then wet his lower lip. It glistened in the warm light of the overhead chandelier, full, sexy and tempting. “And why not?”

  This went beyond sex, but I hadn’t given him much on the emotional front, either. Both topics were scary. I sighed. “When you called me from the political event, I was about to ask you to come home,” I said. “I was worried.”

  “I know,” he said. “Had you asked, I would’ve come running. I’m here now.”

  “But so is she. I wouldn’t have been so daring over the phone if I’d known you were with a woman you’ve been intimate with. So answer me—did you sleep with her that night, or any time during our marriage?”

  “You’re jealous.” He didn’t bother to hide his grin. “My god, it’s even more spectacular to witness than I could’ve ever hoped.”

  He was enjoying this too much. With a sigh, I started to get up from my seat.

  “Tasha’s an old friend I met early on in the second part of my life—after I left Costa,” he said. “She comes from a very powerful familia Rusa-Méxicana.”

  “I have old friends, too,” I said, sitting back down. “If that’s your excuse to fool around, I should get the same pass.”

  He snort-laughed. “Any man who tries with you can’t value his own head too much.”

  When he stood, I looked up at him. “Does that mean I get to decapitate Natasha?”

  He froze as one corner of his mouth twitched. “During our short marriage, you’ve accused me of sleeping with Sandra, Jaz, and now Tasha. While I sit here celibate and desperate for release—and no, not the kind of release you’ve already given me.” I moved against the back of my seat as he stepped forward until his feet met the legs of my chair. “Although, I do dream of the moment you’ll swallow my cock again.”

  My cheeks flamed. Well, Cristiano was certainly back to his old self. The vulgar but hot picture he painted made me squirm—and reminded me of what he’d told me about Tasha before all this. “She did that for you, too.”

  “But not like you. Nobody will ever do it for me like you. I don’t want to get my dick sucked or handled or anything of the sort.” He dragged out my chair, with me in it, and stood over me. “I want. To fuck. My wife.”

  I was finally ready for it. He wasn’t, but by the look in his eyes, I wasn’t sure I could stay him any longer. If he was willing to put himself in surgery to have me, he would. I’d tasted the power of unraveling him before, and it was just as sweet now. He only wanted me. At any cost.

  “But . . . I can’t,” Cristiano said finally. “Not how I plan. I don’t know what kind of sex Doctor Sosa has, but she’d probably never clear me if she had any idea what I’ve got in store for you.”

  Oh, God. I didn’t know what to feel—relief? Disappointment? I wanted him. Having all of him, without reservation or an injury to slow him down, scared me. But there’d be no other way with him.

  Gripping the edge, he sat back on the table. “You want to know about the women in my life? I’ll tell you, and then we’re going to drop this bullshit about whether I’d keep a mistress when I have perfection at my fingertips. Understood?”

  I chewed the inside of my cheek. Cristiano was a god, and he called me perfection? He declared his loyalty to me when I’d fought him tooth and nail up until recently? I agreed more out of curiosity than anything. “Understood.”

  “Jaz was half-dead when we found her. It has been a long and arduous road to rehabilitate her. It will be a while still before she lets a man touch her, and I’m one of the only people in the world she trusts. Eduardo and Alejo, too. So, no, she’s not, and never was, a mistress.” He drummed his fingers along the table’s wood edge. “She can be scrappy, but when it comes to learning more technical hand-to-hand combat, there are still too many triggers. Sandra, on the other hand, took to it very well. She wants to fight back.”

  I curled my hands in my lap. I shouldn’t have brought Jaz and Sandra into this, but apparently, something about Cristiano with another woman changed the chemistry of my brain—and it had even in the beginning of our marriage. “I’m sorry,” I said.

  “Sandra—I already told you her aunt sold her into prostitution—she doesn’t sleep well, so some nights, we stay up late strategizing how she’ll attack the ones who bought her years ago. She’s hoping to take down all of them on her own—and then her own family for the way they betrayed her.” He cocked his head. “That’s why you found her in my office so late at La Madrina. We were breaking down her strengths and weaknesses in the fight earlier that night.”

  I had the infuriating urge to apologize again. It was a strange feeling for me, believing every word Cristiano said. But instinctively, I knew—he wouldn’t lie about this. The subject was too raw, and the evidence of his efforts to help was all around me.

  He’d only ever shown such undeniable honesty with his kiss and his touch, when we’d each been stripped of anything but primal urges. I had never doubted our chemistry, but I had his words. I didn’t now.

  “None of that changes the fact that you’ve been intimate with Tasha, and now she’s under this roof.” I never would’ve deigned to tell Cristiano how to live before, and even now, I faltered. It was my place, but it would take time to grow into this role. Time, and practice. “I don’t care if she saved your life,” I said. “It’s disrespectful for her to stay.”

  His eyes scanned my face. “I told her our marriage was simply an arrangement between two families for the same reasons I told Senator Sanchez you’re a spoiled brat who doesn’t compare to the kind of women I can get.”

  My face heated. “Then why didn’t you steal one of them?”

  “You know why. Because I wanted you.” The buzz that came with heari
ng that never wore off. With Cristiano’s knuckles whitening against the table, and his lids lowering, I had to restrain from arching toward him. “Because even though marrying Natasha would’ve been a better business move,” he continued, “it never crossed my mind to marry anyone until Diego laid you at my feet. I knew you were bait, and I bit the hook anyway.”

  Cristiano—hooked. I’d done something no other woman in the world had been able to, and I was sure many had tried. “Why me?” I whispered.

  He undid the button at his collar with one hand. “No one else has been able to give me what I want.”

  “More power?” My eyes dropped to the pulse at the base of his neck, the veins running along the back of his muscular hand. “No,” I said, answering my own question. “That’s not what you’re looking for. There’s no lack of powerful families with eligible daughters around here.”

  “You’re not a spoiled brat. Nor did I make our arrangement solely for business reasons. I said those things, and I keep you at arm’s length in public, for your protection, Natalia.”

  He slid one foot forward. His nearness, and his protectiveness, only made me want to be closer to him. I moved my sandal to graze the inner edge of his dress shoe. Making a fist in his lap, he ran the sole up my ankle. I couldn’t help my shudder. How could such an innocuous touch send a thrill up the inside of my leg?

  “I don’t have many attachments.” His tone remained firm, but softened at the edges. “My cartel is one, but its people can fend for themselves. As you did when you were forced to. It’s why I go overboard with the safety measures. When someone suspects my weaknesses, they attempt to exploit them.”

  I hadn’t forgotten Jaz’s words to me—that Cristiano loved me, even if he didn’t know it. Did he love me? And did he know it now? He’d been ordered to care for my family and me in the past—maybe all this was because he’d never stopped. “I’m a weakness of yours.”

  “Diego knew it before I did.”

  My heart skipped painfully. Diego had used me; that wasn’t news. But Cristiano could easily do the same. I was here because of deals they’d made behind my back—how could I trust Cristiano after all that he’d done, after years of hating him? But the bigger problem was how I could trust myself. I touched my neck. “The last thing I want is to care about someone again—and have him betray me.”