“I’ll never be the good guy. I’m sensible. Our country, our people, rely on the production and movement of contraband. Take that away, and we’ll fall. That’s just how it is.”
“In this case, sex is contraband.”
“If we fall because I disrupt the sex trade, then we deserve to.”
I was equally warmed and horrified by the pride that spread through me. His conviction moved me as I tended to the physical evidence of what had resulted from him advocating for good. Equally scary was how wrong I’d been about him.
“But if it gives you any comfort,” he said, “I never armed Belmonte-Ruiz. And I’ve stopped selling to anyone who does business with them.”
“Tasha and Alejandro told me. That’s another reason they’re coming after you?”
“Sí.” He held out his hand for the last bandage. “A ver. Give me that.”
“I still need to wrap your chest.”
He gestured for me to hand the packet over. When I did, he set it aside and took my forearm, tugging me down to the bed. I let him guide me into the crook of his neck. “When we drove into the Badlands the first time,” he said, “what’d you think you’d see?”
I shut my eyes like I had that day, transporting myself back to that moment. “The worst,” I admitted. “Rundown buildings, beggars, prisoners, prostitutes. I think I half expected a guillotine. I could’ve sworn I saw people huddled into the cargo space of a semi.”
“Those who’d chosen to leave the Badlands and make their homes elsewhere.” He ran a hand up my arm. “I won’t ask what you thought of me.”
“I thought you were a monster.”
With a deep breath, he shifted under me. Whether from physical pain or something else, I wasn’t sure. “I am, Natalia. No question there.”
I tilted my head to see his face better as I half-whispered, “You’re scarier than any monster.”
“You remember.”
“You said that to me one night after a nightmare, when my mother was still alive. You promised you’d keep the monsters away. But if you’re the good guy, what does that make everyone else?”
“Not figments of our imaginations, unfortunately. They’re bad. So I have to be worse. I’ve made peace with it, but that doesn’t mean I can’t also stand for something.”
I scooted over on the bed, getting even closer to him. He’d talked of owning my wants and needs. I wanted to know him better. I needed to know why—why I sat beside him now, why he felt compelled to help, how he’d gotten to this place.
“Is there really no reason you do all this?” I asked.
“Nobody should need a reason to help those people,” he said and paused.
“But you have one,” I guessed. I slipped my hand into his. He tensed under me but then relaxed. Offering him comfort was new for us.
Or maybe I was the one who needed it.
Getting to know the innerworkings of Cristiano’s mind, heart, and soul wasn’t a task for the faint-hearted. Wondering what I’d find scared me—but not enough to pull back. Not physically, and not from whatever new emotional territory we were wading into.
“Tell me what happened,” I said.
9
Natalia
With each inhalation, Cristiano’s massive chest expanded underneath my cheek, but his arm remained firmly around me. Silence permeated our bedroom. Secured in the crook of his arm, it would’ve been easy to change the subject back to something safer. Why rock the boat with questions about his past, now that we’d set sail on smoother waters?
But he’d always encouraged me to ask questions, to look closer, to live this life with wide-open eyes—and he hadn’t shielded me from the ugly sides of it. So, the longer he remained quiet, the more anxious I became. If Cristiano struggled over opening up about his past, I suspected that meant it was deeply painful for him. Could I be the comfort he needed? Had I made him feel safe?
Was that even possible when I’d only just begun to concern myself with his safety and comfort?
Maybe that was his hesitation. To open up about what haunted him, he’d have to take a leap of faith.
After a while had passed, he shifted. I placed my hand on his chest and raised my eyes to his. He nodded toward the bedroom door. “Growing up, our household had staff, like yours. Like mine does now.”
“It’s not unusual.”
“My dad had groomed me my whole life to help with, and eventually take over, his business. Diego, too, but he was much younger. I was significantly more involved. My father had a warehouse near the border of Juárez and El Paso. He had to hide it from your father and the other families around here. There, my parents trained and housed mules, prostitutes, and slaves. I visited several times before their deaths, and I saw the innerworkings of the sex trade.”
“How old were you?”
“Thirteen when it started.” He closed his fingers around my hand on his chest, veins protruding from his forearm. “I watched him quietly build that business. Anytime I tried to speak up, he’d beat me. After a growth spurt, I tried to physically interfere with a deal. The next day was the first time he brought Diego to the warehouse. He was only eight.”
Cristiano’s punishment had been Diego’s introduction to the darker side of that life. His father must’ve known how that would affect Cristiano. I flipped my palm over to squeeze his hand. “I’m sorry.”
His dark eyes drifted up to the ceiling. “He tried to get me to see people as commodities. No different than weapons or drugs to be moved across borders for a profit. Same with my mom. They didn’t see faces, just dollar signs. And control. Maybe I would’ve, too, if not for . . . for Angelina.”
Just hearing a woman’s name, especially since Cristiano struggled to get it out, put my nerves on edge. She had to be the reason. “Who’s Angelina?”
He slid his hand up my back, pulling me closer by my shoulders. “It’s weird to say her name aloud after this long. She was the daughter of the head of our household staff. I had no time for girls, but she worked around the house a lot and was the kind of beautiful everyone noticed. I had a harmless crush—at least, it was harmless until my father noticed it.”
His hand became clammy in mine—or maybe I was the one sweating. I didn’t want to ask, afraid I already knew the answer, but I had to. “What happened to her?”
“The last time I stood up to my dad, he didn’t beat me, and he didn’t involve Diego.”
“He beat her?” I guessed.
“I wish he had.” The haunted look in his eyes turned the pit in my stomach into a sinking rock of pure dread. “I wish he’d just fucking killed her.”
The back of my neck bristled. To hear Cristiano, champion of innocent women, admit that of all things . . . it said everything. “How come?”
“He sold her to a Ukrainian man for a couple hundred dollars. I was in the room. My father had me restrained as the man beat her, raped her, then took her. And then my father gave me the money.”
I covered my mouth with both hands as bile rose in my throat. I’d heard his parents were malicious from my father, Diego, Cristiano, and others—it was common knowledge, really. But it’d mostly been in the context of their business and plans to overthrow my family.
This, though?
It was a whole new level of evil. Just hearing the horrific words brought tears to my eyes. “I had no idea. I . . .” My chin trembled. “I’m so sorry, Cristiano. Diego never said anything.”
“He was young. I used to talk about it with him, so he knows—but he only witnessed the tip of the iceberg in person.”
Cristiano pinched the inside corners of his eyes and breathed through whatever was working its way through him.
I brought his palm to my heart. “You don’t have to be strong,” I said. “You’re strong for everyone, all the time, but you don’t have to be that way with me.”
“I was forced to be,” he said. “Our father wanted to make damn sure I understood that there was no room for attachments in this world.”
“What did you do?” I asked.
“I knew my father wouldn’t stop at that. Diego was getting older, and he’d start seeing more. I wanted to protect him from our parents, but also . . . I couldn’t live in a world where I knew that was happening. I had to get us out or stop them—and there was no getting out.”
I clenched my jaw to stem another wave of tears that heated the backs of my eyes. It broke my heart, after all the strife between the brothers, to hear that Cristiano had once wanted to shield Diego so badly, he’d put himself in harm’s way. And that Diego didn’t know it, or even the extent of his father’s business . . .
“As you know,” Cristiano continued, “your father, mine, and some of the other cartels in the area had formed a pact against human trafficking. So my parents would have to take them out in order to expand their business.”
“That’s why you chose my father to ask for help.”
“At that point, I was barely fifteen and had no resources. I used the money from Angelina’s buyer to get a gun and transportation to your house. I’d known Costa to be fair, and your grandfather to be ruthless—the right combination for what I needed.” Resolve entered his voice as his shoulders drew back. “I figured as soon as they heard what my parents were doing, and that they were planning to overthrow the other cartels to get away with it, they’d be my best shot at stopping them. And I was right—you know the rest.”
My heart raced. If there was no more to the story, then it didn’t have a happy ending. “But what happened to Angelina?”
He finally lowered his anguish-filled eyes to mine and shook his head.
“You don’t know?” I asked.
“I never found her. I’ve tried. I started in Ukraine and Russia. That’s where I met Tasha’s grandfather, whose family had built a strong network in both México and Russia over many generations. But even with their help, it’d been eight years since she’d been taken. It was like looking for a needle in a haystack. But it led me to other men and women that society had cast aside and left to fend for themselves. From Eastern Europe, we went on to see more of the world.” He took a breath and resolution firmed his jaw. “I’m certain Angelina’s dead by now. I hope she is. Some nights I lie awake thinking of everything she endured—all because of me.”
“Oh, no. No, no, no.” I got up on an elbow and took his chin to force him to look at me—something I’d learned from him. “It was not your fault, Cristiano.”
“I’ve done a lot of work to overcome my past with my parents. They have no control over me anymore. But Angelina . . . I cared about her, and that ruined her life.” He took my wrist, running my palm along his stubble before he kissed the inside of my hand. “You can see how that has affected me. Why I keep you a secret from the rest of the world.”
“Because you . . . care about me.”
He frowned. “I’ve always cared about you, Natalia. Always.” He tucked some of my hair behind my ear as I looked down at him. “In a twisted away, every time I’ve scared you, hurt you, pushed you away—it was to ultimately protect you.”
I had the overwhelming urge to lean in and kiss him. To kiss Cristiano—willingly. To chase away the sadness in his eyes. But then, they grew distant.
“But there’s no guarantee I can,” he said. “That’s why you need to learn to fight for yourself. I couldn’t protect Angelina, and I failed your mother—I can’t fail you.”
“Both situations were outside your control.” The last eleven years, he’d been accused of the crimes of his father. Acknowledging that meant admitting I’d been wrong about everything—including my mother’s murder. “You really didn’t kill her, did you?” I asked through a rasp in my throat.
“No.”
I opened my mouth to form some kind of response, but what could I possibly say? I couldn’t give him back the years he’d lost. The life he’d known. The family stolen from him. And I’d played a part in it.
“You never had enough evidence—or reason—to believe otherwise,” he said, reading my mind.
Moving forward, knowing all I did now, I could help him rebuild. I sat up, swallowing over and over. “We’re going to fix you up,” I said quietly. Carefully, I taped the last bandage over the gash nearest his heart. “We’re going to fix this.”
“I don’t need fixing, Natalia. With you on my side, I’m a force to be reckoned with.”
I shook my head and pressed the tape down, sealing the bandage. “Sit up.”
He pushed off the mattress and into a sitting position. I picked up a roll of elastic wrap and moved forward until we were face to face. He stretched his arms as I reached both of mine around his middle to bind him.
As his breath warmed my cheek, I raised my eyes to his full bottom lip and then higher. I wasn’t sure what I expected to find in his eyes—sadness, regret, pain. But he seemed perfectly content just to watch me work.
“Do you still look for her?” I asked.
His Adam’s apple bobbed. “It’s been almost twenty years, Natalia. Maybe I could’ve saved her back then if I’d had the resources I do now.” He spoke quietly, inches from my face. “I’m using what I learned back then to help others. But no, I don’t look for her anymore.”
I snapped the clips on the bandage tape closed, securing it as my soul wept. That door would never be closed. He’d always wonder what had happened. His parents would forever have that hold on him from their graves. “Are you afraid to love anyone again?”
His expression fell as if I’d sucker punched him. After a moment, he lowered his arms, took my biceps in a firm but gentle grip, and looked me in the eye. “I didn’t love her—it was a boyhood crush, but that doesn’t lessen the devastation of what happened to her.” He paused as if choosing his words carefully. “If it’d been you, I would damn well still be looking.”
Was he trying to tell me something? Was it possible that in the last several weeks of darkness, love had bloomed?
“It wouldn’t have been me,” I said. “Your parents would’ve murdered my entire family . . . if you hadn’t stopped them.”
“Then I’ve done at least one thing right in my life.”
“And . . . what about now?” I asked through the lump forming in my throat.
“If someone took you now? They’d better kill me in the process, because I’d never stop until I found you. There’d be nothing left of this earth. And then, I’d keep going in the afterlife.”
“Where would you look first?” I asked. “Heaven or Hell?”
“Heaven,” he said immediately. “If you stay here by my side, though, that will change. There’s only the underworld for people like us. But down here, we don’t burn. We rule.”
Physically, it would take almost nothing to lean in and kiss him, but it would cost me in other ways. I’d consent to my downfall. To descend with him. To bleed for him as he’d promised I would.
He cupped the back of my head and pressed his lips to my forehead. “I’m not scared to fall in love,” he said against my skin. “If anything, I’m scared not to. Your parents set high standards for what a true partnership looks like, but I don’t back down from a challenge.”
All bandaged up, but not yet healed, he lay back against the pillow and let his eyelids fall shut.
It wasn’t the first time Cristiano had referenced my parents’ marriage and their love for each other. It was the everything he’d been seeking. It had to be. That would answer many of the questions that had surrounded him from the start.
I let my eyes drift over my strong, menacing, yet achingly vulnerable husband. He was right. With me by his side, we’d be a force to be reckoned with.
We?
Weeks ago, it might’ve surprised me that I’d want that, but I didn’t think it would’ve ever truly shocked me. It was why I’d fought all of this so hard.
It felt entirely and alarmingly natural to stay, put on my crown, and descend deeper into the darkness with Cristiano.
But that didn’t mean I had any idea what I�
��d find once everything went black.
10
Natalia
Flat on my back on the front lawn, I struggled to breathe under Cristiano’s considerable weight and brawn. He pinned my wrists over my head in the grass, and with speed a man of his size shouldn’t possess, he maneuvered his hips between my legs, wedged his thighs beneath mine, and spread them.
“You’re helpless against me, Mrs. de la Rosa,” he said with an infuriatingly smug smirk.
I bucked my hips as hard as I could, knowing it would do no good.
“Third time this morning—and I’m injured. Have the last several weeks of training been for nothing?”
Between my shorts and his joggers, only thin fabric separated us. “I fought off a real attacker. It’s just you who’s too strong for me.”
“What have I told you? A limited mindset will always be your greatest liability.” He bent until his face hovered over mine, and his eyes dropped to my mouth. “Once you defeat me, then you’ll know you can take on anyone.”
I licked my lips to see if I could keep his gaze there. “Cristiano?”
“Hmm?”
The thing about lightweight workout gear designed to fit like a second skin was that it didn’t leave much to the imagination. Cristiano had too much happening down south to hide anything. Even when he wasn’t hard, I could feel him between my legs, but now, something stirred. “I think you’re the one with the wrong . . . mindset.”
“Yeah?” he asked.
I shifted my hips, teasing him with a warm home for the thick, ridged monster rising between us. Reminding him that with the baggy openings of my running shorts, he could unfasten, tug, shift, and be inside me in seconds.
His grip loosened as he inhaled. “Yeah,” I said.
Flattening my foot against his thigh and using the advice he constantly repeated to me, I put my weight behind my shoulder, pushed off his leg, and rolled out from under him.
Violent Triumphs (White Monarch Book 3) Page 10
