by Nina Levine
I place my hand on his thigh and smile sweetly at him. “And if I give you what you want, will you give me what I want?”
Dark eyes flash a warning at me. A warning I probably won’t heed. “I’ve already given you what you wanted tonight. Do not push me for more.”
“What? My shoes? You can’t be serious.” Javier was not impressed when I refused to change my heels. He didn’t hesitate to let me know just how unimpressed. I didn’t hesitate to let him know how little I cared. It did surprise me, though, that he didn’t forcibly remove them himself. A small victory for me.
“I told you they weren’t suitable. Your disobedience will not be forgotten.”
My eyes widen.
My disobedience?
The man is insufferable.
Digging my fingers into his thigh, I say, “Why are they so unsuitable, darling?” I ignore the first spark of nerves in my stomach as I push him. But damn him, there is no way I’m going into this marriage having handed all my self-determination over.
There’s more of that dark warning in his eyes as he takes a swig of his whiskey. “Enough.” He slams his order down between us with the kind of low, quiet, but brutal force I know means he really has had enough. And since I know why he thinks my shoes are unsuitable—they’re far too high, strappy, and sexy for a family dinner—and since my goal was to push him to this point, I stop.
I remove my hand from his leg and reach for my wine. “Have you spoken with Mateo and Cruz?” I assume he has. My brothers arrived at the hotel late this afternoon, and I imagine Javier would have them at the top of his list of people to talk with before the wedding.
“That is none of your concern.”
I sip my wine. “You talk about me needing to trust you. That isn’t going to happen while you insist on keeping me in the dark over everything.”
“For a woman who grew up in our world, you don’t appear to have a good grasp on how it works.”
“Oh, I have a good grasp. I just don’t like it. Having said that, I’m not asking for you to share anything except whether you spoke with my brothers today.”
His chest rises as he takes a long, rough breath, and then falls as he says, “I spoke with them.” He throws the rest of his whiskey down his throat before pushing his chair back and standing. “Go and talk with them and your father. Show them how fucking happy you are.”
With that, he stalks away from me, his shoulders rock hard.
I chalk this conversation up to another small victory.
Javier might be an asshole, and he might have some control over me, but he doesn’t have all the control he’d prefer.
And that’s exactly how I’ll keep it.
8
Javier
“We still haven’t located Perez,” Lorenzo informs me as we walk to the elevator after dinner. It was the longest dinner of my life and I’m in no mood to hear bad news.
“Why the fuck not?” I demand, jabbing the button for the elevator.
“Maybe because he’s an asshole who’s fucking good at evading us.” The glare he shoots me matches the glares I receive from Emilia these days. “The fuck is wrong with you tonight? You’re being more of a motherfucker than usual.”
We step into the elevator and my sense of being caged in is stronger than ever. The restraint I’m practicing in all areas of my life is close to breaking point.
I need Perez found.
I need this wedding to take place.
I need Emilia to fucking submit to me.
“Just fucking find him,” I bark.
Lorenzo continues glaring at me as he turns silent. We ride up to his floor without another word and he exits with “I hope you wake up in a better fucking mood tomorrow.”
I reach my floor and stride into the suite, every muscle strained, every thought strained, every fucking sense strained.
Emilia tested every ounce of patience I have tonight.
She defied me at every possible turn.
Her shoes.
The conversations she had with people in which she talked about living in New York after our wedding rather than dividing her time between America and Colombia.
Her refusal to stay with me after dinner when I requested her presence during a conversation with our fathers.
She needs to learn that I will tolerate a lot from her, but that I won’t tolerate everything.
And she needs to learn that now.
I find her in the library on her laptop. When I enter the room, she looks up at me like a wild gusty storm blew in. Eyes wide, she swallows hard and has the good sense not to utter a word.
“Tonight did not go well,” I say, my tone harsh, my angry stare harsher. I might not be able to see my own eyes, but I feel the weight of my fury in them. “In future, when I request something of you, you will give it to me, no questions asked. Am I understood?”
She puts her laptop aside and stands. “You have always been perfectly understood, Javier. That is not our problem here.” She takes a step toward me. “Our problem is that I’m a woman who likes compromise in a relationship and you have never been a man who can do that.”
“You need to move past what happened two years ago, Emilia.”
“I won’t ever move past that. I loved you. I gave you my all. I would have given you my life. And you threw it all away for reasons you never shared with me and turned up on the arm of another woman at a dinner hours after breaking my heart.” She takes the last few steps to stand in front of me. Jabbing her finger angrily into my chest, she continues, “Until you tell me why, and until you figure out how to compromise, our marriage is going to be nothing but a headache for you. I promise you that.”
I don’t fucking doubt her.
Her anger is as savage as mine, and if there’s one thing I know about women for damn sure, it’s that anger like this causes them to act in ways that make no sense.
I squeeze my hand around her wrist. “Headaches are my specialty. I make them go away when they don’t suit me. Don’t ever forget that.”
She tries to flick her wrist out of mine, but I grasp it tighter, keeping her where she is. “And I thought you said you didn’t want to put a bullet through my head.”
“I don’t, but there are other ways for me to achieve what I want. If you keep testing me, you will discover what they are.”
Her breaths come faster as she contemplates that, and I’m helpless but to take in her beauty. Fuck, Emilia simply breathing turns me on, let alone when she stands in front of me with her red hair surrounding her wildly, her flawless face, and eyes that burn with the very essence of her that I can’t get enough of.
“Let me go,” she finally says.
“Not until you indicate that you understand what I need from you going forward.”
“I’m not going to indicate any such thing.” She glowers at me. “Let me go.”
“Fucking hell,” I thunder, gathering her into my arms and carrying her into the bedroom, ignoring the way she struggles in my arms. Depositing her on the bed, I return her glare. “We can fight all night long if need be, but by the time you say ‘I do’ tomorrow, you will do so with the knowledge that I won’t indulge every rebellion of yours.”
Moving fast, she jerks up off the bed and comes at me with her hands, slapping my chest. “I fucking hate you and I already fucking hate this marriage. And we’re not even fucking married yet!”
Wrapping my arms tightly around her, I say, “You don’t fucking hate me, dulzura.” I bring my mouth to her ear. “That’s not possible when you love me like you do.”
The way she arches into me causes my gut to tighten, and her breathless tone shoots need straight to my dick when she says, “I don’t love you.”
My hand splays across her ass and I press her against my erection. “You do. It’s all over you. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t fight me so damn much.”
“Don’t touch me! You need to let me go. Now, Javier!”
I don’t let her go.
I ben
d my mouth to her neck and kiss her. All the way down to her breasts. While grinding my cock against her.
“Tell me you don’t like that,” I say, finding her eyes again.
“I don’t.”
“You’re lying. You’re barely even fighting for your release.”
Keeping one arm around her, I bring my other hand up to slide the strap of her dress off her shoulder. Kissing the bare skin there, I rasp, “Tell me you don’t want me to fuck you.”
Her whimper as I kiss another trail down from her shoulder to her breast is the only response I get.
I reach down to bunch her dress up and slip my hand under it and into her panties.
Another whimper escapes her lips as I push three fingers inside her.
“You can’t tell me you don’t want me, because you do fucking want me.”
When I reach deeper, she loses all self-control.
Her hands come to my face and she takes hold of it while bringing her mouth to mine. She kisses me with an urgency that tests my self-control.
Her tongue demands mine in ways that mess with my thoughts.
Her fingers dig into my skin in ways that I like.
And her moans fuck with me completely.
“Fuck,” I growl, dragging my lips from hers and my fingers from her pussy. “This is your last chance. Tell me you don’t want me to fuck you.”
She doesn’t tell me that, and instead of walking away, she crashes into me, her hands coming furiously to my hair, and her mouth coming back to mine, demanding the fucking world from me.
I take hold of her and spin her to walk her backwards. Forcing her against the wall, I shred her dress from her body in one swift movement. My dick is already hard as hell, but the sight of her dressed only in her underwear gets me harder.
Fucking hell.
This woman will be my wife tomorrow.
Mine.
I need to be inside her.
I need to fucking claim her.
Mark her.
Do every-fucking-thing to let her know she’s mine and mine only.
Wrapping my hand around her neck, I turn her to face the wall. Freeing my cock, I growl, “Take your underwear off.”
She does as ordered and I curve my hand over her ass, sliding my thumb between her cheeks.
“Oh, God,” she moans as I rub my thumb over the place where she loves it the most. Reaching for my cock, she begs, “Fuck me, Javier.”
The words I’ve been waiting for send me over the edge.
I grip her hips and slam my dick inside her.
She puts both hands to the wall and takes every thrust.
We’re a frantic explosion of lust and war.
Pleasure and pain.
Love and hate.
This isn’t a ceasefire, but it’s everything we both need.
And after we come, I sense the change in her.
She might still think she hates me, but her body is telling a whole other story.
One she’s started paying attention to.
I know this because there’s not one trace of conviction in her words when she meets my gaze and says, “For the record, I don’t love you.”
I kiss her. Roughly. Savagely. “It doesn’t matter if you do or don’t. Tomorrow you will be mine and that is all that matters.”
I pull out of her and zip myself up before turning and stalking out of the bedroom.
I need some distance between us after this encounter.
I need to get my thoughts together and figure out how the fuck I’m going to find Perez.
I’ll be fucking damned if I’ll let him come for my woman.
9
Emilia
Tomorrow you will be mine and that is all that matters.
I turn the words over that Javier gave me last night. I don’t understand them. Why would me being his matter to him? We’re not marrying for love, after all.
In the six months we were together, I never once picked up on the fact he planned to end the relationship. Our love was consuming. Passionate. I was needy for him like I’ve never been needy for a man. And I thought he’d felt the same way. The night he told me, in no uncertain terms, that we were done, came as a complete shock to me. It had been a slap in the face in the worst possible way and I’d taken a long time to get over him. Truthfully, I never got over him. But he made it abundantly clear two years ago that he wanted nothing more to do with me, so his words from last night make no sense.
He disappeared after he fucked me last night. I went to sleep before he returned, and when I woke this morning, he wasn’t next to me. I know he came to bed at some point, because I woke just after three to his arms around me. Another mindfuck that I don’t know what to do with.
My mother is horrified we’re staying in the same room. That my fiancé will see me on the morning of the wedding. I had to bite my tongue to remind her it’s not a real marriage.
She wanted to help me get dressed today, but I told her no. I don’t want anyone fussing over me today. I just want to get through the wedding and the reception while conserving as much energy as possible to survive Javier tonight. Not that I’m worried about the sex; I’ve already screwed that up. I’m only worried about preserving my heart now. I’m almost certain that is going to be a full-time job once we’re married.
Javier’s angry voice sounds from the living area of the penthouse as I finish applying my make-up. I can’t make out his words, but his tone is enough to draw me out of the bedroom to see what’s happening.
“Get everyone downstairs and make sure Perez is contained,” he roars at Bruno.
His fury is a living-breathing thing, and it causes me to stop and take a step back. I’ve seen Javier angry before, but holy hell, this is something else. Especially since I know he holds his head of security in high regards and usually respects him enough not to take his anger out on him. Or, at least, he used to.
Bruno hesitates. “I’ll stay here with you.”
“No.” Javier is firm, leaving no room for argument. “I want you all down there. I want that motherfucker found.”
Bruno still appears hesitant, but he nods his agreement and puts his phone to his ear to bark his own orders at his team while he exits the suite.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
Javier’s eyes come to me, still flashing with his fury. “Nothing for you to worry about.”
“I feel like it is something for me to worry about. My family is downstairs.”
He clenches his jaw. “And I have my security watching all of them, Emilia. They’re safe.”
I know who Perez is, so I know that if he’s anywhere close, none of us are safe. However, the men surrounding me like to keep me sheltered, so I also know I have no hope of getting an answer out of Javier about this.
“Fine,” I snap and turn on my heel to go back into the bedroom. I don’t expect him to share information with me. I’m not a fool; I know how this world we move in works. However, I’m frustrated that he won’t ever give me more than ‘this is nothing for you to worry about’ like I’m a woman who should just look pretty and fucking smile.
I’m also frustrated that he’s reduced me to this woman who mutters ‘fine’ when I mean anything but that. I’m an intelligent, independent woman who has never allowed a man to affect me the way I’m allowing Javier to.
Deep breath, Emilia.
Marry the asshole. Fuck the asshole. But don’t let him mess with your emotions.
Easier said than done.
I style my hair into curls and leave them to fall over my shoulders and down my back. It’s my favorite way to style it. Unfortunately, it’s also Javier’s favorite. I do my best to ignore that and move to the closet where my wedding dress hangs.
Nerves that I didn’t expect flutter in my stomach. I can’t decide if they’re happy flutters or nervous ones. They should be the latter, but I’m not convinced they are.
I’ve just laid my dress on the bed when I hear angry shouts from the living area again
.
Jesus, Javier is in a mood today.
Except, I realize something bad is happening when gunfire sounds.
Fear rushes through my veins, but only for a split second. My father trained me for this from a young age, and while I haven’t had to deal with something like it in years, I’ve kept my skills sharpened.
Moving fast and without making a noise, I head for my suitcase where I have my gun stashed. The one even Javier’s team didn’t find when they searched my bag. That’s what they get for conducting a sloppy search after assuming a woman like me doesn’t carry.
Once I locate it, I quietly move through the rooms of the suite looking for Javier. I find him and another man in the library.
Perez.
I’d recognize the asshole anywhere. My father has had enough issues with him for me to know he’s the kind of man who needs a bullet through his head. The problem with that is he heads the Alonso Cartel who would be swift with their retribution if we did shoot him.
Perez’s back is to me, but his gun is trained on Javier.
Javier’s gun lies on the floor.
He’s seen me, but he was quick to divert his eyes back to Perez who is unaware of my presence.
“If you’re going to shoot, Perez, fucking shoot,” Javier snarls.
Perez keeps his gun on Javier. “I’m not going to shoot you until after I fuck your woman and shoot her. I want you to watch her bleed.”
Javier’s features darken more than they already are. “You will never lay a fucking finger on her.”
“You might have stopped me two years ago but look at you now. Does it seem like you hold any power here today?”
Javier stopped him two years ago?
My brain races as it latches onto that, but I push it aside. I don’t have time to be contemplating anything right now. Not when Javier’s life is at risk.
“Fucking shoot me!” Javier bellows, and I realize that each time he’s ordered Perez to shoot, he’s actually ordering me to do that. He’s letting me know he’ll deal with the fallout of Perez’s death.