by Julia Sykes
Hey big brother. I’m fine. Santiago took away my phone for a few days, but he hasn’t hurt me. I don’t think he will. He’s not like the other Kings. And I’m not just saying this to make you feel better. Don’t worry about me, and don’t do anything stupid. I’ll be okay. Love you.
I received a text from him seconds later.
I am worried about you, Charlotte. You will tell me if he hurts you. That’s an order.
I rolled my eyes. Like Javier, my big brother was prone to giving orders. My text back was a lie.
Will do. Promise.
I had enough on my plate without worrying that Ortiz and Reyes would go after Derek. No way was I going to give him a reason to fight them. If he thought I was being mistreated, he would do just that.
Satisfied that I had done damage control, I retrieved the handwritten portion of my essay from the bedroom and began typing it up. Focusing on my work was a welcome distraction from the emotional turmoil that had plagued me over the last several days. I had told Santiago I would make my choice by the time he returned, but I wasn’t ready to think about it just now.
I was barely aware that several hours had passed when my concentration was interrupted by a pounding on the door. I glanced at the clock. It was almost one. Santiago had told me he would be back for lunch. I hoped he was the one outside the apartment, but the rest of my brain recognized that he wouldn’t knock.
The pounding grew louder as whoever it was slammed his fist against the wood repeatedly. He shouted something in Spanish. I didn’t recognize anything but Santiago’s name, but I could tell the words were slurred. Whoever was outside the apartment was drunk and pissed off.
I hesitated for a few seconds, but then the door rattled on its hinges. The man was obviously kicking at it. “He’s not here!” I called out, my voice shaky. I had to make the man go away. If I didn’t, he would break down the door to get at Santiago. That much was clear.
The wood around the lock crunched as splintered inwards. I made a dash for the bedroom, grabbing up my phone on the way. Despite my shaking fingers, I managed to find Javier’s contact information. The apartment door gave way with a deafening bang just as I slammed the bedroom door behind me and connected the call. But the man was faster than I was, and I didn’t have time to lock it before he flung it open. I let out a small scream as panic spiked through me.
Ortiz’s wide face was even meaner than usual, his features contorted with fury. His eyes were slightly unfocused, but they managed to fix on me. He growled something in Spanish and stepped toward me. I dropped the phone and lunged for the lamp on the bedside table, ripping it free from the cord that tethered it to the wall. I held it in front of me, as though it posed a real threat to the hulking man who filled the doorway.
“Stay back,” I ordered, my voice shaking.
He laughed, but the anger didn’t ease from his face.
Adrenaline shot through my veins, steadying me. “Javier will be home soon,” I warned. “You should leave.”
He answered in English. “Good. Then I can put him in his place. Santiago and your father think they can tell me what to do. But I’m the one running the new territory. Santiago might own you, but I own your brother.” A leer twisted his lips. “I think I’ll take you, too.”
Fear made my stomach turn, but the adrenaline kept me focused. Ortiz grabbed at me, but his move was sloppy; drunkenness had made him unsteady on his feet. It gave me the advantage I needed. I swung the lamp at his head with all my strength. The wood snapped at the impact, and Ortiz went reeling to the side.
It wasn’t enough. He shook his head hard, and then his eyes found me again. With a snarl, he came at me. His weight slammed into me, and I fell back. The impact of his large body with my chest sent the air whooshing out of my lungs, and pain cracked through my head when it slammed against the floor. I was still for several seconds, stunned. He took advantage, his hands grasping at the hem of my tank top and shoving it up my abdomen. Horror gave me the clarity I needed to fight him. I was still holding one shattered half of the lamp. I tried to get it between us, stabbing at him. The jagged wood ripped through his t-shirt and bit into his skin, cutting a long, crimson slash across his chest. He roared in pain. I had half a second to register the sickeningly familiar sight of a fist flying toward my face before white lights popped across my vision. My entire body went limp at the shock of the impact. I didn’t feel pain. Not yet.
I was vaguely aware of my only weapon slipping from my numb fingers. Ortiz’s hands fisted in my sweatpants, tugging them down my legs. Although terror rode me hard, I couldn’t manage to lift a finger to fight him. The world spun around me, and my body wouldn’t respond to the instinct that was screaming at me to protect myself.
Suddenly, his crushing weight and pawing hands left me. My vision flickered, and when it cleared I saw Javier slamming Ortiz up against the wall. His fingers wrapped around his rival’s throat. Ortiz clawed at him, but his grip didn’t loosen. Rage pulsed off him like a palpable thing.
“Charlotte is mine,” he snarled. “I should kill you for touching her.”
Ortiz’s tanned face darkened as his mouth opened and closed, searching for air. Strangled sounds choked through his lips, and his heels drummed against the wall as Javier lifted him by his throat. Ortiz’s eyes slid out of focus, and his face went slack. Only then did Javier release him. He crumpled to the ground, gasping in ragged breaths. But Javier wasn’t finished with him. He kicked him in the gut, and Ortiz curled in on himself, clutching at his stomach.
“Decadence doesn’t belong to you, either. You work for Jonas and me now. Try to challenge me again, and I will kill you.” He bent and grasped Ortiz by the shoulders, half-lifting him. His body bumped across the floor as Javier dragged him out of the apartment. I heard Ortiz cry out as Javier delivered one last blow. The broken apartment door crunched closed, and Javier was back at my side within seconds. He crouched beside me, his features tight with residual rage. But his hands were gentle when he slid my sweatpants back up my legs, returning my modesty.
He didn’t bother to ask if I was okay. It was obvious that I wasn’t. Shock was the only thing keeping me from completely breaking down.
His eyes roved over my body, searching for signs of injury. They darkened when they fell on my jaw. I wasn’t sure if the damage was beginning to show, but I was sure I would have a bitch of a bruise where Ortiz had punched me.
So much for not being marked up when I go back to class. What will the Tri Alphas think?
A mad giggle almost escaped me at that thought. What the fuck did it matter what the sorority girls thought? I had barely escaped being raped by a member of the Latin Kings. Whether or not the Tri Alphas judged me to be worthy of them seemed incredibly insignificant. My life was so laughably different from theirs. I would never be one of them, would never be normal. Ana Lucia had been right. No matter how hard I tried, I was stuck in this shitty criminal underworld. There was no escape, and I was stupid to have ever pretended otherwise.
A sense of weary resignation sapped my bones. Why bother to fight what I was? I finally accepted my fate.
“I’ll marry you, Javier,” I said hollowly.
Chapter 10
A small frown creased his features, but still he said nothing as he wrapped his arms around me and lifted me up onto the bed¸ situating me so that my back was propped up against the headboard. The movement made pain flare in my skull from Ortiz’s vicious blow, and I winced. I closed my eyes with a soft groan.
“Keep your eyes open,” he ordered. “Don’t fall asleep on me.”
I did as he commanded. There was a chance I had a concussion, and I knew the best ways to prevent complications. I had experience in making sure I didn’t have to go to a hospital after a beating.
“Hold on,” he said before disappearing into the next room. I was distantly surprised to feel a pang of loss at his absence. His heat had been comforting. A man’s nearness should have shaken me after what I had just been through,
but I didn’t want him to leave me. If I was left alone with my thoughts, I would be forced to think about what had almost happened to me.
I blew out a long breath when he returned a minute later with a glass of water and Tylenol. He also held a bag of frozen peas. I supposed he was equipped to deal with injuries, given his violent lifestyle.
But even the thought of his involvement with the Latin Kings didn’t draw forth the same disgust it once had. I was simply relieved to have him there to take care of me. And how messed up was that? It was his fault I was even in danger in the first place.
No. That wasn’t true. This was Jonas’ fault. All Javier had ever tried to do was protect me. Even his insane proposal of marriage was only about keeping me safe. If I had accepted him when he first asked, I wouldn’t be in this position. Ortiz never would have dared to attack me.
The flood of hatred that surged through me at the thought of what my father had done to me was stemmed when Javier pressed the bag of frozen peas to my jaw. I hissed at the intense cold and the pain of the pressure against the injury. I tried to flinch away, but his large hand cupped the opposite side of my face, trapping me in place. I sucked in a deep breath, fighting through the discomfort until numbness dulled the throbbing pain. When I finally relaxed, his hold eased, and he tenderly stroked his fingers through my hair. His sincere chocolate eyes melted into mine.
“I’m sorry, muñequita,” he murmured, not breaking the soothing rhythm on his touch on my hair.
My tears finally welled up at his sympathy, and I tore my gaze from his, blinking furiously to hold them back. I didn’t want to break down. I didn’t want to face it. Instead, I found my anger again.
“Go ahead,” I tried to fling the words at him, but they shook with emotion. “Tell me it’s my fault. Tell me I should have agreed to your terms days ago and this never would have happened.”
His fingers curled under my chin, redirecting my eyes to his. They were darker now, harder.
“It’s not your fault, Charlotte. It’s never your fault if someone else abuses you. I know your father hurt you in the past.” His jaw tightened briefly at the mention of what I had suffered at Jonas’ hands. “But you didn’t deserve that. And you didn’t deserve what Ortiz did to you. When I saw him on you…” He took a deep breath, as though bracing himself. “I should have killed him. If he touches you again, I will.” His expression sharpened with ferocity. “I got your call. I heard what he said to you. He’s making a power play, and he wanted to use you to get to me. He can’t do that once you’re my wife.”
I ignored the last, instead focusing on what Ortiz had said before he attacked me. Cold settled in my stomach. “You’re working with my father,” I accused.
He nodded. “You’re in my care now, Charlotte. That gives me a… special relationship with Jonas. I don’t like him,” he assured me quickly. “Actually, I hate him for everything he’s done to you. But allying myself with him gives me more power in the tribe. It will help me protect you.”
Why did he have to twist everything I should hate about him and turn it into something good? No matter what he was, he had his own moral code. He was a good man. That made my bitterness toward him for manipulating me easier to swallow. If I was forced to marry a Latin King, at least he didn’t mistreat me. In fact, he seemed to put me first in everything he did.
“And once we’re married,” he continued, “you won’t have to worry about Ortiz. He might hate me, but he knows better than to attack my family. Just as I can’t kill him without good cause, he won’t be able to harm you.”
“Okay,” I said wearily. “Let’s get it over with. I want to get back to my life. The sooner we’re married, the sooner I can do that, right?”
“Yes. You can go back to class, but you’ll still have to live with me.”
“Fine. I’ll do it.”
His thumb stroked along my cheekbone. “You won’t regret it, muñequita. It’ll all be over soon enough.”
I still wasn’t sure how he could know that, but I knew one thing for certain: even once our marriage was over, there was no going back to my old life. It had never been real. It never would be.
Even though I had tried to prepare myself, nothing could help me overcome the nerves that twisted my gut as I waited in New York City Hall. It had only been two days since Ortiz had attacked me. I told Javier I wanted to get this over with as soon as possible, so I had caked makeup over the bruise on my jaw and gone with him to get a marriage license the next day. Now, just over twenty-four hours later, we were able to get married.
I plucked at the leaves on the roses Ana Lucia had brought for me. It was an anxious gesture, and I didn’t even realize I was doing it until Javier’s fingers closed around mine, stopping me from mutilating the bouquet.
Other than that one symbol of matrimonial celebration, there were no outward signs that I was about to tie the knot. Javier was in his typical jeans and black t-shirt. In an effort to appear just as nonchalant, I had tried to wear jeans as well. Only, days of indulging in his cooking had made that impossible without some gross muffin top showing. I cursed him for all the delicious bacon he had tempted me with and selected a sky blue knit dress. I had bought it because it highlighted my eyes, but now I resented it for making me appear remotely appealing. In a show of defiance, I hadn’t even put on eyeliner, remembering too late that Javier preferred me in less makeup.
“You look beautiful,” Ana Lucia said kindly. I fought down the urge to glare at her. I didn’t want to look beautiful. I wasn’t some blushing bride. I had been terrorized into this.
But none of it was Ana’s fault, so I forced a tight smile in her direction.
“That’s our number,” Javier said. Something inside me quaked as I registered that they had indeed just called for us. It seemed terribly unromantic to take a number and wait to be called for a wedding ceremony, but I supposed there wasn’t anything romantic about our union, anyway.
The canoodling couples around us seemed to think it was the most perfect day of their lives. I tried to muster up even the smallest fraction of their enthusiasm, but I couldn’t seem to do it. I hoped my frozen smile would be enough to keep people from suspecting that I was there against my will. If they took notice of that and the shadow of the bruise that showed through my thick layer of foundation, they might ask questions about my relationship with Javier.
He placed his hand on the small of my back and guided me toward the East Chapel. The show of false affection made my stomach knot, even as it awoke traitorous heat deep within me. No matter how crappy our circumstances, the man still affected me physically.
On my other side, Ana Lucia took my hand and squeezed it gently, providing me with further support. Miguel trailed behind her, grinning as though this truly was a joyous occasion. I wasn’t really sure what he was even doing here. He was too young to serve as a witness, but he had shown up at City Hall with his sister that morning and waited with us for the entire three hours it had taken for our number to come up. Javier had been withdrawn, but the kid managed to coax a few laughs out of him with his enthusiastic chatter.
Ana, on the other hand, seemed to sense my distress, and she didn’t press me to talk. Instead, she was a calm presence at my side. Her stoic expression reminded me that she had been through something similar with her now-husband. At least my time with Javier would likely be more pleasant than her experience. And, even better, our marriage had an expiration date. Ana was trapped. My hand tightened around hers in a show of shared sympathy.
Within minutes, we were entering the East Chapel. The space was fairly utilitarian and small, but it seemed huge with just the four of us filling it. There were no smiling family members attending our sham of a wedding. The officiant, however, seemed unconcerned with the sparsely-attended ceremony.
“Welcome, guys!” The dark-haired, mustachioed man greeted us with a grin. “How you doin’ today?”
“Couldn’t be better,” Javier said warmly. I glanced over at him to see that
he had flipped on his charm switch, and he was smiling just as broadly as the officiant. It really wasn’t fair that he was so good at that. My lips trembled around my forced smile, but the officiant didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe he just read it as a show of emotion on my wedding day. I wasn’t sure if I was relieved I hadn’t raised suspicions, or if I would have rather him call off the whole thing because of my discomfort with the situation.
“Have you prepared your own vows?” He asked genially.
“No,” Javier replied. “We would prefer a simple ceremony.”
“Excellent. If you’ll just take the young lady’s hands, we can get started.”
The man stood before us, and Javier grasped my hands. Mine felt frozen in his warm ones. He rubbed his thumbs across my palms in a soothing motion. Despite everything, the gentle touch helped to calm my squirming insides.
“We are gathered here today to witness the exchanging of marriage vows between Javier and Charlotte,” the officiant began, his thick New York accent turning to something more lilting as he began speaking the words that would tie me to Javier Santiago. “Do you, Javier, solemnly declare to take Charlotte to be your lawfully wedded wife? Do you promise to love, honor, cherish, and keep her for as long as you both shall live?”
“I do.” The warmth in his eyes matched that in his gentle smile.
“As a symbol of your promise, please place the ring on the young lady’s finger.”
Miguel handed a slim, simple gold band to Javier. It slipped onto my finger easily, but it seemed to burn into my skin.
“Do you, Charlotte, solemnly declare to take Javier to be your lawfully wedded husband? Do you promise to love, honor, cherish, and keep him for as long as you both shall live?”
What? We were at this part already? I couldn’t do it; I wasn’t ready for this. The simple “I do” stuck in the back of my throat.