by Julia Sykes
A few times since we’d left the club, I’d felt a surge of anger toward Mateo. After he’d taken me to that deviant place, it had become impossible to gloss over the fact that he’d claimed the right to my body, my virginity, without my consent. I cared for him deeply, but that was still a bitter pill to swallow.
Yesterday had been fully booked with my class schedule, followed by a women’s sleepover at Valentina’s house the night before the wedding. The activities had given me a welcome reprieve from discussing the club incident with Mateo. That conversation was going to be emotionally raw and potentially painful.
I could deal with it after the wedding.
The organ music that signaled the beginning of the ceremony filled the chapel, the notes powerful enough that the space practically vibrated with the jubilant tune.
Valentina’s sister-in-law, Samantha, tucked her copper hair behind her ear in an anxious gesture. Despite her nervous energy, she kept her spine straight and shoulders back as she stepped out of the vestibule, starting the procession.
A few beats later, it was my turn as maid of honor. The entire wedding party included Samantha, me, and Mateo. Valentina’s brother—Samantha’s husband—Andrés had arrived in town just in time to walk the bride down the aisle.
With so few of us involved in the proceedings, it would be even more challenging to divert my attention from Mateo.
I took a breath and braced myself to face him, clutching my blue hydrangea bouquet more tightly than necessary.
As soon as I stepped onto the red carpet leading up to the altar, my attention caught and fixed on Mateo. Taking his place as best man, he stood next to Adrián, and I couldn’t keep him out of my field of vision.
He was as darkly gorgeous as ever, but he appeared endearingly uncomfortable in his tux. He’d made an attempt to style his black hair with some sort of product, and it wasn’t quite as wild as usual. He tugged at his jacket sleeves and shifted his massive shoulders, frustrated within the confines of so much extra fabric. I was certain he’d much rather be dressed in his usual cotton t-shirt and well-worn jeans.
His onyx eyes widened when they landed on me, his fussing over his tux completely forgotten. His jaw dropped for a second then clenched tight when his features drew harsh with familiar hunger.
My heart leapt into my throat, and my carefully crafted smile faltered. I continued my smooth progression up the aisle, but I was no longer moving toward the altar with the proper purpose in mind. I should have been focused on my duties as maid of honor, but my body was being pulled toward his. I felt as though I had a rope knotted somewhere low in my belly, and Mateo tugged on the opposite end, compelling me to come to him. His magnetic energy made my sex pulse with awareness, and my nipples pebbled against the structured bodice of my organza gown.
When I reached the front of the chapel, Adrián suddenly shifted to the side, edging his body to an angle that intercepted my view of Mateo.
The groom’s pale green eyes glinted in warning, his small frown belying the joyous occasion. He didn’t need to utter a word to make his message crystal clear: Don’t fuck up Valentina’s perfect day.
I swallowed hard and summoned up my smile, gliding into place beside Samantha. My new vantage point provided me with a view of the seated guests, and my stomach dropped. I kept my smile in place through sheer force of will, but it felt fragile enough to shatter at the slightest additional pressure.
Daddy was sitting three pews back, his emerald eyes shining with unshed tears. Mom was artfully arranged at his side, her body language the perfect posture of an adoring, supportive wife. They both appeared grief-stricken to see me, as though my absence from their lives caused them great anguish. I suspected that Daddy’s feelings were genuine, whereas Mom’s expression was a carefully constructed mask designed to win the sympathy of everyone around her.
I’d been so focused on preparing myself to face Mateo that I hadn’t stopped to consider my parents’ presence at this event. Things were beyond tense between Adrián and Daddy, but they were close business associates. I supposed it would have been perceived as a grave insult if Adrián hadn’t invited my father to his wedding.
Even though the men hated each other, the delicately balanced power dynamics within their organization dictated this façade of respect, if not friendship.
I was certain Daddy wouldn’t tolerate this false cordiality if he knew that Mateo and Adrián were plotting to have Ronaldo killed in order to free me from the marriage he’d arranged without my consent.
My emotions were on overload, and it took every ounce of strength and practice to maintain my outwardly happy demeanor. For the rest of the ceremony, I remained resolutely focused on Valentina, studying every breathtaking detail of her couture gown. By the time she kissed Adrián, sealing their union, I’d become desperate enough for the distraction that I’d started counting the thousands of seed pearls sewn into the ivory lace.
The organ music swelled again, and Valentina and Adrián started to make their way out of the chapel. That meant it was time for me to take Mateo’s arm and follow them to the limos that would carry everyone in the wedding party to the reception venue.
He paused in the aisle, waiting for me to come to him. His black eyes were tight with uncertainty, and I found myself immediately taking his arm to soothe him.
As soon as I wrapped my hand around his massive forearm, the tension that had stretched me to my breaking point melted away. Mateo was warm and solid and stronger than I could fathom. The comfort I found in his presence provided such relief that tears sprang to my eyes.
I could feel my lower lip quivering, and I blinked hard to stop myself from weeping.
Just get through the reception, I commanded myself. I could break down with Mateo in private, once the wedding was over and we could talk everything out back home.
“Please don’t cry, dulzura,” he rasped.
I choked on a sob, his concern shattering my resolution to remain poised.
We reached the vestibule, and I hastily stepped away from him. “I need to go to the ladies’ room,” I murmured, my vision wavering with the torrent of tears I was struggling to hold back. “I’ll meet you at the limo in a few minutes.”
“Okay.” His agreement was strained, but I couldn’t waste time puzzling through his mood. I had to duck away from the cameras and compose myself.
I rushed down the steps that led to the basement level beneath the chapel, where the restrooms were located. Luckily, no one was around to witness my distress as I stumbled into the ladies’ room; all the other guests would be making their way out of the chapel and over to the reception venue. I should have a few minutes of solitude to pull myself together.
I grabbed several tissues from a box on the sink counter, blotting at the wetness on my face and praying that my professionally-applied makeup would survive this meltdown.
“Sofia, you’re going to ruin your mascara.” My mother’s judgmental voice echoed the tone of my own thoughts.
Dread pooled in my stomach. I didn’t want to talk to Mom right now.
“It’ll be fine,” I said thickly, patting my cheeks dry with the tissue. “It’s waterproof.”
“That just means it’ll be harder to touch up if you smear it under your eyes,” she criticized.
“I’m not smearing it!” I snapped, suddenly feeling like I was thirteen again.
I took a breath and reminded myself that I was an adult, and I didn’t have to let her pointed critiques get to me.
“What do you want, Mom?” I asked bluntly. She definitely hadn’t come down here to comfort her distraught daughter.
She pursed her full, red-painted lips, her baby blue eyes narrowing at me. The rest of her face didn’t move much; she’d been nipped and tucked and injected until she’d become the frozen embodiment of aging gracefully.
She stepped beside me to face the mirror, needlessly smoothing her perfectly-styled, platinum blonde hair. “Can’t a mother come check on her daughter?” sh
e asked, not even glancing away from her own reflection to consider me.
“We both know that’s not why you’re here.” I was rarely rude to my mother, but I didn’t go out of my way to be nice to her, either. Not like I did with Daddy.
There was no point trying to earn Mom’s love and approval, because she simply wasn’t capable of offering it.
“Your father is worried about you.” She didn’t bother to include herself in the statement of concern. “He wants to talk to you, but his number has been blocked from your phone.” She smoothed on a fresh coat of red lipstick and made an exaggerated pout at her reflection.
“That’s because I don’t want to talk to him.”
Her blonde brows managed to lift slightly, and she finally focused on me. “Why not? He’s been devastated ever since you were taken hostage.”
I rolled my eyes. “Of course you only care about how this affects him. You have to play the part of simpering wife and keep him happy so that you can keep your claws in him. Have you even once wondered if I might be devastated at being taken hostage?”
She lifted her chin, too haughty to stoop to my level. “I don’t appreciate your tone, Sofia.”
I threw up my hands. “I don’t know why I’m even bothering with this conversation. Tell Daddy whatever you want. I’m not interested in talking to him anytime soon.”
“Don’t disrespect your father,” she scolded as I stormed out of the bathroom.
I stepped into the hallway and jerked to an immediate stop.
“Princesa.” Daddy held out his arms, expecting me to step into them for a hug.
His tall, slim body blocked my way to the stairs, trapping me in a conflict I wasn’t ready to face. I tried to ease back, distancing myself from the painful prospect of confronting him about his lies.
Mom’s slender arm draped over my shoulders, urging me toward Daddy. “Your father has been worried sick about you,” she told me in a falsely kind tone. “He wants to see that you’re okay.”
A hollow laugh echoed through the basement, the spiteful sound issuing from my own lips.
“Okay?” I demanded, glaring into my father’s bright green, watery gaze. “You lied to me my entire life! It was awful enough learning that you’re a criminal, but what you did to Valentina…” My stomach turned. “How could you do that to her?” I railed, the full force of my anguish ripping through me. “How can you be the kind of man who does something like that?”
“Sofia.” His voice cracked on my name, his distress genuine. “I’m still your father. You’re still my little girl. I didn’t want you to be troubled by my business dealings, and I’m sorry that you were pulled into this. But nothing has changed between us. I love you, princesa. Always.”
His promise of love tore at my heart. I craved it so badly.
“And what if I don’t agree to marry Pedro Ronaldo?” I challenged. “Will you still love me if I refuse the future you’ve arranged for me without even asking my opinion?”
His jaw went slack, as though my objection had never occurred to him. “I was only thinking of what’s best for you,” he insisted. “Ronaldo is a wealthy man. He has a vast estate. You will be comfortable and provided for.”
“He’s a drug lord. And he lives in another country. How could you think I would be okay with marrying a criminal stranger who lives in a country I’ve never even visited?”
Daddy’s jaw firmed, and he fixed me with his disapproving frown, the one he reserved for the times when I was being especially difficult. “Now, Sofia. Ronaldo will keep you in a life of luxury, and you won’t have to worry about anything. You don’t have to know about his business dealings, just like you haven’t known about mine.”
“I don’t want to be a kept woman,” I insisted. “I would never be happy in an arrangement like that.”
“Don’t be ungrateful,” Daddy rebuked. “I arranged this marriage so that you can have everything you could possibly want. You enjoy your musical hobby, right? Ronaldo will be able to support you so that you can spend your time however you wish.”
“Hobby?” The word was soft, small. Most of the air had been knocked out of my chest.
All these years, Daddy had just been indulging me. He didn’t take my music seriously. I’d been stupid and desperate enough to think that he actually believed in my talent.
“You don’t have to worry about anything, princesa,” he cooed, completely ignoring the fact that he had inflicted the pain he was attempting to soothe. “I’ll sort everything out with Adrián soon, and then the wedding can move forward as planned. You won’t have to be trapped with that animal for much longer.”
“Don’t call him that!” I snapped.
How dare Daddy speak about Mateo as though he was sub-human? The old man standing before me was far more of a monster than I’d ever realized. He possessed less humanity than the man who’d been holding me hostage.
Daddy’s slate gray brows rose. “You can’t possibly like Ignazio.” He uttered the words as though they were distasteful. He shook his head, hardening his resolve. “This just proves how important it is for me to take care of you. If you think Ignazio is anything more than an animal, then you’re a poor judge of character. The life Ronaldo will provide for you is what you need.”
“Why aren’t you listening to me?” I shrieked, feeling like a little girl screaming futilely at my locked bedroom door. “I don’t want to marry Ronaldo!”
“Sofia, you’re being very disrespectful,” Mom scolded. “Apologize to your father.”
Suddenly, Mateo came barreling down the stairs, his black eyes wild. He was laser focused on me, and he didn’t even seem to notice that my father was an impediment to his path. When Daddy tried to stand his ground, Mateo simply shoved him aside.
Daddy shouted in pain when he slammed into the wall, but Mateo didn’t notice that, either. He came straight for me, and Mom darted into the safety of the bathroom.
“I heard you scream,” he said, his voice rumbling with unspent aggression.
I flung myself at him, closing the short distance between us. His corded arms enfolded me, and I leaned into his warmth and strength.
“Take me home,” I whispered, tucking my face against his chest, breathing in his intoxicating scent.
“All right, dulzura.” He dropped a kiss on my forehead. “We’ll go home. I’ve got you.”
Chapter 21
Mateo
Adrián would be annoyed that I’d skipped out on his wedding reception, but Sofia needed me. She cried softly the whole way home, and I was anxious to park my BMW so I could soothe her. She responded to my touch far more powerfully than any words of comfort I could offer.
As soon as I picked her up out of the passenger seat, she tucked her face against me and clung on tight. Her tears wet my shirt as I carried her into the house and settled us both down on the couch. I tried to position her beside me, but she cuddled closer, indicating that she needed me to hold her.
I hated her tears, but her willingness to turn to me for support made warmth pulse in my chest.
Ever since I’d ushered her out of Adrián’s kinky club, I’d been tormented by the very real prospect that she would leave me, now that I’d pushed her away for her own good. Letting her go was the right thing to do, because it was what was best for her happiness, not mine.
But her emotional distance over the last two days had shredded me.
“You were right,” she sniffled against me, speaking for the first time since we’d left the chapel. “Daddy doesn’t care whether or not I want to marry Ronaldo.”
“I’m sorry, florecita.”
My touch on her soft skin remained gentle despite the anger that surged. I loathed her piece of shit father, but she still had enough love left for him that he was able to wound her deeply with his betrayal.
I regretted that I hadn’t taken the time to hurt him more. He’d stood in my way when she was in distress, so I’d resolved that little issue by shoving him aside. If I’d stopped l
ong enough to register that he had been the one to make Sofia scream in anguish, I would’ve done a lot worse.
“You’re not an animal,” she said quietly, her dainty fingers catching my shirt to hold me impossibly closer. “You told me my father was right to call you that. He’s not.” She looked up at me, her emerald eyes wide and shining. “You’re a good man, Mateo.”
Her words were a knife to my heart. More than anything, I wished they were true. I wanted to be the man she thought I was, but I never would be.
“I know you want to believe that, dulzura.” I rubbed my thumb over her pretty, plump lips, memorizing their softness. “But it’s not true. You say you want to be with me, but you’re making excuses for who I really am so that you can justify your decision. That’s why I took you to Adrián’s club. I need you to understand that I’m not a good man. And being with me isn’t good for you. Once Ronaldo is dead, I’m going to make sure you can go back to your old life.”
A wrinkle appeared between her brows. “My old life is over. It was never real, anyway.”
“I can make it real for you,” I swore. “I’ll make sure you father doesn’t fuck with you. You’ll be separate from all this violence and cruelty.”
“Why are you doing this?” She pressed her palm to my cheek, commanding my full attention and honesty. “I know you want me. I know you care. Why are you pushing me away when I want you too?”
My fingers encircled her wrist, but I couldn’t find the strength to pull her hand from my face. “Because I don’t deserve you.”
Her lovely eyes drew tight, as though she felt my pain in her own chest. “You do deserve me, Mateo. You deserve me, because you earned me. When you first took me as your hostage, you claimed the right to my body and imprisoned me in your house. You could have done anything you wanted to me, but you chose to take care of me. You…made me better.”
She guided my hand to press against her thigh, right over the expanse of flesh where she’d cut herself to earn her father’s love.