by Mason, V. F.
Which only fuels anger inside me, because the nightmare I lived in could have been avoided if he only cared more.
How did I end up on the streets anyway?
One time I tried to broach this subject in the hospital, still shocked at the news, but he ignored it, and I knew he’d never answer.
Unfortunately, his lack of an explanation urged my imagination to paint its own version of events in my head, hideous and painful in their nature, which demanded vengeance for everything I’ve endured.
A spacious garden and the scenery outside snaps me out of my thoughts, and I roll the window down, watching in awe at the enormous property while birds chirp in the distance.
What is it like to stroll around this garden, breathing in fresh air every day, and not exist in a cage while men…?
My hands fist on my lap, and I take a deep breath, pushing away painful memories.
The car pulls up beside the mansion that could fit a hundred if not more people as a man rushes outside, smiling widely. “Señor, you’re back.” He greets my father who gets out of the car first and then motions for me to do the same.
“Hola, Harold.” He addresses the man who glues his gaze on me and connects his hands, his eyes becoming misty. “This is Lucian.”
The name is jarring to my ears.
I prefer Javier because that’s the name of a boy who survived until he beat his enemies.
Lucian sounds foreign and plain weird, but once again, when I voiced my desire, my father raised his hand, which I quickly started to understand was his sign of the subject being closed.
“Hello, Lucian. Welcome to your home.” He opens his arms wide, ready to hug me when I step back and hit the car door, nausea rushing through at the prospect of any man touching me.
I intend to never fucking ever willingly touch anyone again, and if someone tries, I will fight them until my last breath.
“No lo toques.” My father orders him not to touch me, and I blink in surprise at him noticing my discomfort. Maybe that’s why he never made a move to embrace me?
That or my father just hates me, which would explain why he abandoned me. When the police called him, he probably had no choice but to show up.
A single tear falls down Harold’s cheek, and he quickly wipes it away, nodding at my father. “Yes, sir.”
Father walks toward the door, and I trail after him, still unused to moving this freely without any chains or a guard breathing down my back.
The minute we step inside, my jaw about hits the floor at how luxurious it all is, from gold marble to statues and even several paintings.
Everything glistens, and I see a woman in the distance polishing the railing on the stairs until it shines.
And all this house… will be mine now?
Earlier uneasiness comes back, making me feel like an imposter and that someone will come any minute now and tell me it’s all a joke.
How can trash all of a sudden transform into a prince?
My father removes his coat, and Harold takes it and then extends his hand to me, waiting for mine, but I shake my head, needing this warmth to protect me.
And the fear still rides me hard.
What if my father decides to kick me out on the street, tells me to take a hike?
The coat will be useful in the cold weather because judging by the falling leaves we are in the middle of autumn.
Heavy footsteps echoing through the space pulls my gaze to the stairs where slowly a tall, old man strolls down. He wears a white shirt, vest, and gray pants, and his black-with-traces-of-gray hair are combed back.
Deep wrinkles mar his face, and a huge ring rests on his finger. His penetrating brown eyes, just like mine, study me from head to toe.
And whatever he sees there doesn’t impress him much as he dismisses me with a snarl and focuses his gaze on my father. “Juan, you brought him here?”
“Father.” My brows lift when I realize that’s my grandfather, and my head starts to spin because somehow after discovering I have a dad, I didn’t even think about the possibility of having a larger family. “Of course I did. I still live here.” He points at me with his chin. “Where I go, Lucian goes.”
Well, that soothes some of the nervousness eating at me and loosens my hold on my coat.
Grandfather huffs, then comes down a few more stairs before stopping on the last one and dropping his voice a few octaves, sending chills down my spine.
Two things become clear to me.
He doesn’t like my presence in his house.
And he isn’t used to anyone ignoring his orders.
“He’s thirteen. Does he know how to read, write?” My father grits his teeth because he doesn’t know the answer to this question, and that’s when the old guy turns his orbs on me. “Respóndeme!”
Clasping my hands behind my back, I dig my nails into my skin to keep my voice even, despite the fury sliding into my veins, urging me to shout at the guy to shove his orders.
Life has taught me to be careful with those who are stronger than you, though. I might have survived James’s ordeal, but my body is too weak to engage in another fight. “No.”
Read and write?
I almost bark a laugh at this.
Who would have bothered taking the time to teach me? I can barely count properly, and the only reason I even know any fancy words is because all those fuckers uttered them a lot so I had to learn.
Grandfather chuckles and addresses his son this time. “And you expect me to announce this tramp as our heir?” He shakes his head. “Estás loco!”
A tramp.
Almost the same as telling me I’m a dog on a leash.
My composure can only last for so long, and I open my mouth, ready to defend myself, bracing my insides for a possible blow when my father takes a step forward and points his finger at Grandfather.
Shocking me to my core since no one ever came to my defense in all my life, and all I can do is just gape at them both.
Even though his voice stays even, I don’t miss the steel and warning coating his tone as he speaks very slowly. “Careful, Father. He’s my son. A Cortez by his birthright. You will treat him as such. Or—”
“Or what?”
“Or you will not like the consequences.” They face off at one another, almost identical in their height and the waves of power rolling off them, while the air around us electrifies with tension.
Harold’s gaze ping-pongs between them as he tugs on his cravat, worriedly biting on his lower lip.
“He cannot be introduced to society. It will take him years to learn the business. You want to claim him? Do it.” Grandfather snaps his fingers. “But you will marry and give me a proper heir!”
Why do they keep repeating this word heir as if they have a kingdom where they would announce me as a prince like in fairy tales?
Society?
“I will not do such a thing. And you know very well why.” If possible, more tension surrounds us all, red stains marring my grandfather’s cheeks while he practically vibrates with anger. “It’s either Lucian or be ready to watch your empire crumble.”
Grandfather spits on the floor. “It all comes back to her, doesn’t it? Always about her!” He runs his fingers over his hair. “Your payback.”
A blank expression covers my father’s face at this, and he places his hand on my shoulder, pushing me toward the stairs, and barking at Harold, “Take him to his room. Make sure he is fed. From now on he is your responsibility.” Harold freezes, blinking rapidly. “If anything happens to my son, you’re a dead man, Harold.”
“Sí, señor.”
“Este bastardo no se quedará en mi casa!”
This bastard will not stay at my house.
Well, I can’t really argue this point, can I?
“Este bastardo es mi hijo, papá. Mine and Camille’s. Call him that one more time, and we will leave.” The old man’s jaw twitches while he breathes heavily, and oddly enough, pleasure reflects on my father’s gaze as if
he enjoys upsetting his father so much. “Lucian, go upstairs,” he orders and holds my gaze for a second. Gentleness flashes in his gray orbs before he motions with his chin toward Harold. “We’ll talk later.”
Having no other choice, I trail over to Harold, still hearing my grandfather and father arguing in hushed whispers, although farther and farther from me, since we go upstairs, deep into the hallway to the right side.
When we enter my room, I just stand numbly, staring at it, because it’s so big I couldn’t ever imagine having this all to myself.
All while Harold assures me that from now on everything will be different, and I should never worry, just tell him whatever I need, and he’ll get it for me.
This is how my life divided into the before and after.
Before, I had been Javier, an orphan on the street who got unlucky and ended up in hell.
After I’ve become Lucian Javier Cortez. An heir to the throne.
Funny thing about it all?
No matter if you are an orphan or an heir… the pain you experience hurts you all the same.
Just the magnitude of these emotions is different.
Esmeralda
Taking a deep breath, I twirl around in front of the mirror while the light streaming from the ceiling along with the moonlight slipping through the window make my dress glow.
The silky, strapless, white gown plasters against my body, hugging it tight and pushing my breasts up, giving them a bigger boost than they deserve. The deep V on my back reaches my lower spine, bringing attention to my flawless skin, or so Jaqueline claimed with the note attached to the dress.
Apparently, Harold called her in haste and asked her to pick the dress that would be perfect for me, and in an hour, it was delivered to us.
It cascades down my form to my silver stilettos that are oddly comfortable, and they finish the composition perfectly.
However, the most vivid parts about the dress are the various colors splashed on it, transforming the white silk into an artistic pallet that urges a person to touch the material and dip their fingers in the paint that isn’t real.
Combined with my lilac hair clipped up from both sides leaving the heavy locks falling free down my back and my fingers smeared in a little bit of pink, since I painted outside trying out the studio Lucian built for me, I seem as wild and weird as always.
Except in a few minutes, I’m supposed to greet all these guests who came here to congratulate me on my marriage, and somehow the idea of them finding me lacking compared to my husband unsettles me.
“You look gorgeous, mi amor.” A deep voice speaks from behind me, right before his strong arms circle my waist and connects my back with his hard chest. “Good enough to eat.” His lips skim over my neck, traveling to my shoulder, where he bites a little before flicking his tongue over it and sending heat through my system. “This dress suits you.”
“Because I’m weird?” I’ve never wanted to fit the mold my grandmother craved to put me in, but I don’t want anyone questioning Lucian marrying me.
Which is so idiotic in itself, as I have bigger problems to worry about, like his lack of desire to share his past with me.
After our little tryst in the office, he invited me to explore Chicago, which we did, and I’ve started to fall in love with this magnificent city that has so much to offer.
The sidewalks, the parks, the museums, and the energy floating in the air made me feel right at home, and I had this deep need to discover all the things it had to offer.
New York will always have a special place in my heart. It’s my hometown after all, but I think I don’t really mind living in Chicago anymore.
My heart was so full and the nature around me inspired me so much my hand itched to paint, and that’s when Lucian showed me his surprise.
My finished studio outside with all the things I might need, so I spent days holed up in there before he arrived and dragged me to our bed, where he did wicked things to me.
Despite knowing that he kills those who deserve it, the idea of him hurting in the past and refusing to shine a light on the issue still bothers me.
I don’t want to spend my life in secret, but then again… I haven’t shared mine with him either.
Is it fair for me to demand something from him, while giving nothing in return?
His laughter pulls me back to the present, his splayed palm on my stomach, running up and down, causes goose bumps on my skin, and a gasp escapes me. “Unique.” His hand traps my left one, and he brings it up, catching my gaze in the mirror as he kisses my rings. “And all mine.” Satisfaction rings in his voice, and a smile shapes my mouth, so I spin and lock my hands around his neck.
“No one is fighting over your claim.”
His grip on me tightens, and he pulls me even closer, our lips inches apart as he whispers, “Whoever tries is a dead man.” The harshness in which he says these words leaves me no doubt that’s what he’ll do.
And my insides react to it, rushing thrills through me and filling every cell in my body. “You’re crazy.”
“For you? Oh yes.”
He connects our mouths, pushing his tongue through my lips ready to deliver his scorching-hot kiss again when the door bursts open, banging against the wall, and a female voice belonging to my friend speaks up. “Break it up, lovebirds!” We swing our heads at the same time to see Lila standing in the doorjamb, her arms crossed, wearing a long purple dress while her high heels tap on the marble. “You two have some explaining to do.” She frowns, and by how icy-cold her tone is, I know she didn’t appreciate not coming to the wedding.
Eugene hovers behind her, wearing a gray suit, and his eyes laugh through his glasses as he salutes Lucian. “Amigo.”
“Your wife is cockblocking me right now,” my husband says, stepping away from me, and I roam my gaze over his navy blue suit that emphasizes all his features and only adds to the desire inside me.
Lila huffs. “You have guests downstairs dying to meet you. They wouldn’t shut up about you two ever since you did that engagement announcement.”
“What announcement?” I ask, but they both ignore me, as Lila continues to talk.
“So technically speaking, you cockblocked yourself.” A smug grin curves her mouth. “You reap what you sow.”
Lucian’s brow lifts. “I can greet them whenever I wish. Yet you barged inside my room without an invitation.” A beat, and then he adds, “So you cockblocked me.”
“To be fair, they are getting restless. Even my grandmother showed up, claiming that she had to see with her own eyes a dragon—aka you, in case it wasn’t clear—marrying the poor lamb.” Eugene glances my way. “No offense, darling.”
“None taken.” In light of my discoveries, I’d say it’s quite a fitting description.
“You caused quite an uproar among the ladies too. Some even still cry in a corner at losing their chance to snag you as a husband.” Lila pitches in and the green monster living inside me rears its head, anger filling my blood while my hold on Lucian’s arm tightens, my nails sinking into him.
The idea of any woman wanting my man as her own doesn’t bring out the best in me.
He frees himself from my hold and then palms my head, tilting it back. “Retract the claws, gatita. I’m only yours.” He places a soft kiss on my forehead, wrapping me in the cocoon of protection and warmth, calming my earlier nerves and fears still hiding inside my psyche.
“You make it really hard to still hate you, Lucian,” Lila says, leaning on Eugene who hugs her tight to him. “I might even forgive you for whisking my friend away and getting married in secret.”
“If it helps, it was a surprise for me too.”
She winks at me, and happiness spreads through me at knowing that despite all my moods and behavior, we managed to become friends, even if most times I suck at it.
“I couldn’t wait years like your man.” Eugene growls at Lucian, and he grins. “Your patience astonishes me, amigo.”
Lila pats his ha
nds on her waist. “My man is very special.” He kisses her on the neck and suddenly a thought crosses my mind at how lovely they are together, and how well put together her husband always is.
Calm, reserved, polite, and gentle.
However, he has been friends with Lucian all this time.
Does he know about his deeds?
And then something else crosses my mind.
How a few years ago, Lila had a thing, and then it took them years to get hitched, and my eyes widen at the realization that Eugene might be… just like Lucian?
And since Lila tried to stop me from falling for him, she must know about it too and accept their way of life.
God, a person might be friends with people and know shit about them. However, before confronting my friend, I’ll speak with Lucian later.
My husband laces our fingers together, pulls me toward the door, and announces to us all, “It’s show time.” He exchanges a look with Eugene, and I notice his subtle nod at him as if they agreed on something.
I don’t have time to dwell on it or ask any questions as he strolls to the hallway, where we quickly walk down the stairs, and within a minute, we’re standing by the entrance to the room.
It seems like hundreds of people are gathered here tonight, as servers wearing black uniforms move flawlessly through the crowd, offering a variety of drinks to the people who either are engaged in deep conversations or admiring the decor around them, including the expensive statues and paintings.
The men wear dashing suits, sip whiskey, and smoke expensive cigars, and they straighten at once when noticing Lucian. The women have a whole fashion-show collection for us all to admire while their diamonds glisten in the light, bringing attention to their wealth.
The scent of roses mixed with lavender and orchids floats in the air as various flower compositions surround the room, almost begging you to touch the soft petals. While the smells coming from the dining room tempts you to follow them and indulge in all the delicious treats Ricardo has prepared.
The terrace door is wide open, allowing a light breeze to flow inside, and I see several people going out, probably to admire the nonexistent garden.
A stage several feet away has musicians playing their instruments, the slow classical tune creating an aura of peacefulness and luxury that can draw you in, if you let it. Several tables are scattered around the room, offering snacks to munch on so all the alcohol won’t go to their heads.