Reign: A Romance Anthology

by Nina Levine

  “You might think that, but I don’t see you fighting me off, and I sure as fuck don’t hear you telling me to let you go.”

  His fingers slip under my panties and find my back hole. Pushing his thumb against it, he curves his hand under me to reach for my clit with another finger.

  Holy hell, this is what I’ve been missing for two years.

  He’s what I’ve been missing.

  I need to tell him to stop. To fight him off, like he said. But even I know there’s no way I’m doing either of those things. Not when he’s making me feel so damn good.

  Except, I have to, or the dynamic between us will shift altogether and I’ll lose any footing I have.

  Drawing on every ounce of strength I have, I push his hand away and straighten. Turning, before he can stop me, I meet his gaze. “Take this as me fighting you off and telling you no.” Placing my hand to his chest, I add, “I will marry you. I will move into your New York apartment. But I will not travel with you, and I will not fuck you. Those are the only ground rules I’m agreeing to, and if you don’t like them, consider this marriage over before it even began.”

  With that, I leave his suite and almost run back to mine, my heart beating way too fast.

  This marriage must go ahead.

  There’s no way out of it for me.

  What I just said to Javier is an empty promise and he knows it as much as I do.

  All that’s left now is to wait for his response.

  And pray I don’t buckle under the need I have for him, because the only truth in all this mess is that I want him like I want no other man.

  Javier Torres might be going into our marriage feeling no love for me, but I love him. And that will be my downfall.

  4

  Javier

  Fuck.

  Emilia has no fucking idea what she does to me. And thank Christ for that. If she did, she’d be dictating her terms all over the place and getting away with them.

  I pour myself a strong drink after she leaves my suite and throw it down my throat. I pour another and repeat.

  Exhaling a long breath, I check the message that just came in on my phone.

  Lorenzo: Diego just arrived. We have a problem. You free yet?

  Me: Yes. Come up.

  My brothers arrive less than five minutes later, stress lining both their faces.

  “What?” I demand, feeling the exhaustion that’s been my constant friend the last few weeks as I’ve prepared for this wedding and the handover of the cartel from my father to me. Our enemies have been making threats and I suspect that’s what Lorenzo and Diego are about to tell me; that another one has been issued.

  “It’s Perez,” Diego says, breaking the news like it’s the last thing he wants to tell me.

  Every muscle in my body strains. “Emilia again?”

  Diego nods. “He’s threatened her family this time too.”

  “Fuck.” I pull my phone out, issuing a string of directives to my brothers as I tap out a message to the head of my security. “You two take care of her family. Get them safe, and don’t take no for an answer from any of them. Put as many of our men on it as needed. I’ll sort out Emilia.”

  Felipe Perez heads a rival cartel. He threatened Emilia’s life two years ago when we were together. His men managed to get inside her apartment when she wasn’t there and sent me happy fucking snaps of themselves from it. Their demands were simple: we had to surrender some territory to save Emilia’s life. We gave them what they wanted, and I walked away from her to save her being caught in the crossfire ever again.

  I suspected another threat from Perez; he knows my weakness and won’t hesitate to use it against me. However, I’m prepared for him this time. The only weak link in my plan is Emilia. Her refusal to agree to my terms of marriage wasn’t unexpected, but it’d make my life a lot fucking easier if she’d just do what I say.

  Bruno, my security head, enters the suite as my brothers leave. “I’ve called extra men in,” he says, his body as tense as mine. “How many do you want stationed at Emilia’s room?”

  “None. I want her brought here. Now.”

  He nods. “I’ll take care of that.”

  “She’ll put up a fight. Don’t allow it.”

  He agrees and exits the suite while I move into action. This fucking asshole will regret the moment he decided to threaten my woman.

  “She won’t budge,” Bruno says when he calls me from outside Emilia’s room ten minutes later. “I’ve explained shit to her, I’ve argued with her, and I’ve considered kicking the door down. You want me to get a room key and force her out?”

  “Fuck,” I mutter. “I’ve got a key. I’ll come down.”

  I grab the key to her room that I insisted upon when I booked all the rooms for our families and head down to the next floor.

  Bruno arches his brows at me, an amused expression on his face. “I’d forgotten how headstrong she can be.”

  Bruno’s been with me for five years and was witness to Emilia’s willingness to challenge me while we were together. She’s the only woman I’ve put up with this level of defiance from and he knows it. He also knows how fucking hard I fell for her. That was established the night I left her; the night he later found me drunker than I’ve ever been.

  Using the key, I let myself into her room.

  “Oh my God, you can’t be fucking serious!” she yells as I enter.

  Fuck me, she’s dressed in nothing but a red thong and a strapless red corset made of lace and sheer mesh. I catch a glimpse of her naked ass and the lace-up back of the corset before she spins to face me. If my dick wasn’t already hard from her visit to my suite, it sure as hell is now.

  Christ.

  “I’m deadly fucking serious,” I almost bark while trying like fuck to get myself and my cock under control. “Get your ass dressed, packed, and ready to move to my room. You’ve got five minutes.”

  She places her hands to her hips, and hell if that stance doesn’t send more of my blood south. “Even if I was going to bow down to your orders, it’d take me longer than five minutes to pack. Surely you know that about women.”

  “I have another meeting, Emilia. Your time is running out.”

  “And what? You’ll throw all my stuff into a bag yourself and carry me up to your suite if you have to?”

  “Yes.” She was kidding; I’m fucking not.

  Her eyes widen. “You will not. I won’t stand for it.”

  “You now have four minutes.”

  She drops her hands to her side and shakes her head. “Has anyone ever told you how overbearing you are?”

  “I think you know the answer to that, but I’ll humor you.” I take a step toward her. “If anyone spoke to me the way you do, they’d end up with a bullet through their skull or a beating that would let them know never to do it again.” I continue toward her, every fiber of my being radiating the frustration she’s generated. “Do you want to persist with this conversation?”

  The thing I’ve always loved about this woman is her grit. She doesn’t hesitate to draw on it now. Her eyes might be flashing with doubt over my intentions, but she doesn’t give into that doubt. And fuck, I don’t want her to. Hell, I don’t want to even fucking cause it, but a man will go to whatever lengths he needs to in order to keep the woman he loves safe.

  “Yes, I want to persist with this conversation,” she snaps. “I also want to know if the man I’m going to call my husband in less than forty-eight hours is a man I should be afraid of. Are you considering putting a bullet through my skull, Javier?”

  I reach her. “Of course I’m not fucking considering putting a bullet through your skull,” I say as I lift her and throw her over my shoulder. “But you fucking tempt me.”

  She struggles in my hold, trying to escape it. “What the fuck are you doing?”

  “I changed my mind. You don’t have five minutes, and I’m not packing your bag. Bruno can pack it while I take you up to my suite.”

  “I have no f
ucking clothes on!”

  “Not my problem, dulzura.”

  She stills for a moment at my term of endearment. I hadn’t fucking planned on using it; it slipped out before I could stop it. The last thing I want is Emilia knowing my true feelings for her. I can’t afford that. Not when she’s the one weakness I have for my enemies to prey on. Allowing myself to fully love her will only increase our vulnerability to outside threats. Keeping her at a distance will help me keep her safe.

  “Don’t call me that,” she says, and I hear the hate and hurt in every fucking syllable. It’s a knife to my chest in a way I never imagined it could be.

  I stalk to the door with her, steeling myself to deal with her continued fight. Bruno schools his features when I yank the door open, his face not registering the fact he cops an eyeful of Emilia’s ass. I do my best to ignore the possessiveness that floods me at the sight of his eyes on that ass, and fucking fail.

  “Pack her shit up and bring it to my suite,” I bark as I stride past him to the elevator.

  “Put me down!” Emilia demands, and I do, once we’re safely in the elevator. Her eyes come straight to mine, filled with more anger than I think she knows what to do with. “If you’re trying to make me regret my decision to marry you, you’re succeeding.”

  “The only thing I’m trying to do is keep you safe.”

  “Javier, I grew up a member of the Sanchez family where our safety wasn’t granted for a single day of our life. The same as you. This isn’t anything new to me. It’s why we have security everywhere. It’s why I took self-defense lessons when I was younger. Why, suddenly, are you worried about my safety so much that you feel it your right to kidnap me, half-naked, from my room and drag me to yours?”

  I cup her face, roughly, and rub my thumb over her lips. “As the man who will be your husband, I have every right to do whatever it takes to keep you safe. You should expect nothing less going forward. And you would do well not to challenge me every time I take the necessary actions.”

  She stares at me like she’s never seen me before. Confusion fills those beautiful eyes of hers. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

  “It’s the only answer you’re getting tonight. You need to start trusting me.”

  Her lips flatten and she shoots me one last glare before exiting the elevator onto my floor.

  I try like fuck not to glue my eyes to her ass, but it’s a useless goal. I’ve never been able to remove my eyes from Emilia’s body, and I sure as hell know I’m not about to now.

  This woman commands every ounce of my attention when she’s near, and fuck it, I’m more than willing to give it.

  5

  Emilia

  I slip into the pink cami set I’m wearing to bed and wish I’d brought an oversize T-shirt instead. This set is too sexy with its plunge neckline and lace to wear while Javier is near. My original plan of keeping him on his toes with clothes designed to do that is out the damn window after our earlier attempt at dinner. I never expected him to finger-fuck me the way he did, and I don’t want to encourage that again. Not when I know I’m one step away from submitting to any demand he makes on my body.

  Exiting the bathroom into the main bedroom of his suite, I come to a stop when I find him sitting in the armchair in the corner of the room watching me intently. He trails his gaze down my body, unnerving me, before lifting his half-drunk glass of whiskey to his lips and drinking some.

  I don’t know what to make of Javier after tonight.

  On one hand, he ordered me around like he does everyone in his organization and mentioned putting a bullet through my skull. On the other, he called me sweetness and threw me over his shoulder to bring me to safety. He also informed me he won’t be taking a mistress once we’re married. It’s all very contradictory and I need some space from him to sort through my thoughts. Space he doesn’t seem intent on giving me.

  “Why are you in here?” I ask.

  “This is my suite in case you’ve forgotten.” His voice has turned hard again after losing some of that harshness when he used his favorite term of endearment on me.

  “Yes, but I presumed that when you brought my suitcase into this room, you were allocating it to me.”

  He throws more whiskey down his throat before standing. “You should never presume anything, Emilia. This is our room.”

  I stare at him, eyes a little wider than a second ago, heart in my throat. “This is not our room. And if you think it is, I’ll sleep on the sofa.” Javier might think I’ll be sleeping with him after our wedding, but he’s wrong. I won’t be. And I definitely won’t be sharing a bed with him tonight.

  He comes to me, and while I want to put distance between us again, I don’t move. I push my shoulders back, hold my head high, and keep my eyes on his. I’ll be damned if I’ll show him how he affects me.

  Taking over my space, he growls, “You aren’t sleeping on the sofa. You’ll sleep next to me, so I know you’re safe.”

  How he manages to sway my breaths into speeding up and my legs into feeling weak, I will never know, but he does. “You’re being ridiculous. You have how many security guards at the door, inside and out? I’m hardly unsafe in any room of this penthouse.”

  Finishing his glass of whiskey, he stabs a finger at the bed behind me. “You’re sleeping in that bed and I’m not hearing another word about it.”

  With that, he turns and stalks out of the room, leaving me staring after him, a bewildered mess.

  Holy. Hell.

  I don’t recall Javier being this bossy two years ago. He was certainly arrogant with a take-charge attitude, but this is next level. I can’t decide if I hate it as much as I’m telling myself I do.

  I walk back into the bathroom and slam the door closed behind me. I’m not generally a woman who sulks or gets in a mood like this, but Javier’s bringing it all out in me. I might just stay in here all night at the rate we’re going.

  Fifteen minutes later, I admit defeat on secluding myself away and storm out of the bathroom in a huff. Thankfully, Javier is nowhere to be seen in the bedroom, so I’m able to take the time to pull myself together.

  Once I’ve calmed down, I leave the bedroom in search of wine. I’ll spend the night working, avoiding my husband-to-be, and taking the edge off with a drink.

  The penthouse is empty, save for the security guy he’s got at the front door. I locate a bottle of wine and pour myself a glass. Traipsing back into the bedroom, I try to ignore the niggling realization that I’m disappointed not to see Javier in the living area. I don’t want him in the bedroom, but Jesus, why do I wish he was in the suite at all?

  I’ve lost my sanity.

  It’s the only reason for what I’m feeling.

  I set myself up on the king-size canopy bed that feels bigger than a king and fancier than any bed I’ve seen with its gold-threaded fabric and collection of pillows and immerse myself in work.

  Hours fly by like they always do when I’m working, and it’s not until Javier’s voice filters into the bedroom from the penthouse that I realize it’s past midnight. Stretching, I listen to him, and while I can’t make out what he’s saying, I pick up on his mood. He’s angry, and a few moments later, I see that mood written all over him when he enters the bedroom.

  Dropping his suit jacket on the armchair, he works his way down the buttons of his black dress shirt as he strides into the bathroom without a glance in my direction. His hard jaw is the very definition of ruthless, as is the expression on his face. Whoever he met with tonight has not made him happy.

  My stomach flutters with unease.

  We have a long history of knowing each other, but Javier is not the man I knew two years ago. It’s common knowledge in the world we inhabit that his brutality is unmatched. That he’s merciless when dealing with people and problems. And while he told me he doesn’t want to put a bullet through my head, I’m reluctant to fully believe that. The only thing keeping me here is the knowledge that he’s aware his actions will put the cart
el at risk if he harms me. And if I know one thing about this man, I know the cartel is his sole focus. He won’t ever do anything to jeopardize it.

  I pack up my laptop while he’s in the bathroom, storing it in my bag in the closet. I’m on my way out to the kitchen with my wine glass when Javier returns to the bedroom and says from behind me, “I want you tonight.”

  Four words and he’s reduced me to nothing but need.

  My legs stop moving and my brain forgets how to work.

  And Javier commands any speck of my attention that wasn’t already on him when he moves behind me and runs his finger over my shoulder and down my arm. He doesn’t even need to utter another word; he owns my body if he so chooses right now.

  “No.”

  His finger ends its journey and his hand wraps around my wrist as he steps closer. “You can’t deny me forever, Emilia.” The deep gravel of his voice almost tips me over the edge. Almost forces me to turn and give him whatever he wants.

  My veins thrum with him as I continue to fight against the desire I want nothing to do with. “I can, and I will.”

  His other hand curves over my hip, the tips of his fingers sliding into my shorts. “Turn around.”

  I close my eyes and take a deep breath, willing myself to stay strong against him. Something I’ve never been good at. Not from the minute I met him at fifteen. Not from the minute he showed me he cared about me at nineteen. Not from the minute he made me his two and a half years ago.

  Opening my eyes again, I say, “Why did you end our relationship?”

  His hand dips further down into my shorts and he presses his erection against my ass. “I had my reasons,” he says, brushing his lips over the bare skin of my shoulder. “Turn around.”

  “I’m not turning around until you tell me your reasons.”

  His fingers dig into my skin. “I am not a man who shares his reasons. You know this.”

  “If you want to marry me, you’re going to need to share them.” I do my best to ignore the fact he’s removed his shirt and try like hell not to look at his bare arms and the muscles he’s built since I last saw him. My best isn’t good enough; my eyes are all over his corded arm muscles.