Violent Delights (White Monarch Book 1)

by Jessica Hawkins

  Diego had been in my father’s grip too long, and I was the only one who could ask a favor like this.

  Father sat back behind his desk. “Tonight, we celebrate. What’re your plans while home?”

  “I thought maybe you, me, and Diego could have dinner tonight,” I said.

  He picked up his folded glasses and tapped them against his temple. “I’ve already arranged a feast in your honor.”

  “Tomorrow then, or sometime this week.”

  “What for? I’d rather just the two of us,” he said. “Anyway, my annual party is Thursday night as you know. I’ll have my hands full with that, and so will Diego.” He frowned. “Why don’t you visit the stables? It’s been so long since you’ve ridden.”

  Eleven years to be exact. I would go see the horses, but I hadn’t gotten on one since Mom’s death. It’d been our thing, an activity we’d done together almost every day. I nodded so as not to start off my visit with an argument. “Maybe, but it’s hotter than Hades here. I’ll go to the beach, no doubt.”

  “No doubt.” He patted my hip. “How was the trip?”

  “Barto took great care as always. No attempted murders.”

  “A joke,” he said. “I’m glad you see the humor. I don’t.”

  It was important to remember to laugh when traveling with three guards and in bulletproof transportation.

  “I need to get back to work,” he said, opening his laptop. “Dress well for dinner.”

  I stooped to kiss his cheek. Out of habit, I glanced at the computer screen for clues as to what he and Diego had been discussing, but I forced my eyes away. I didn’t want trouble. I just wanted to get Diego and me the hell out of there before someone else I cared about got killed.

  On my way out, Papá called me back. “One more thing. Don’t let me catch you trying to sneak into the ballroom again this year. It’s no place for a young girl.”

  “I know many girls who’ve been to your parties.”

  “None of which is my only daughter.”

  My mom had hosted a legendary annual affair for clients and friends of the Cruz cartel in a ballroom on the property. I’d never made it into a party and had been forced to settle for hearing the music from my bedroom across the lawn, followed by weeks of gossip and folklore. Papá had tried his best to keep me isolated from this world since birth, but that’d bred curiosity.

  Now that I knew better, I appreciated his intent. But it hadn’t saved me from witnessing my mother’s murder.

  “I’m not a young girl anymore,” I said with a shrug. “I’m twenty.”

  I left the room and tried not to think about the party. I’d once harbored a morbid curiosity about the life my parents led—until I’d learned firsthand the senseless violence, corruption, and evil that came with it. Since then, I’d been trying to tame the little girl in me who’d been fearless enough to draw a weapon on a man three times her size. The girl who’d equated danger with fun. The one who’d listened to the devil whispering in my ear that there was no escaping this life, not now, not ever.

  I had run away from all this, but the devil still tempted that stupid little girl. She knew better than most what could come of that.

  After all, she’d ended up locked in a pitch-dark hole for hours, senseless and defenseless, covered in her own mother’s blood.

  2

  Natalia

  In the corridor on my way to the library, a figure sprang from the shadows and seized me from behind. I gasped, but the moment I caught Diego’s familiar scent, I relaxed in his arms.

  “Buenas, princesa,” he murmured in my ear, stealing me toward the library.

  As children, Diego and I had scoured almost every inch of the house with the exception of my parents’ bedroom. We knew it better than any member of the security team, likely better than my father himself, as he couldn’t fit in some of the spaces Diego and I had been known for folding ourselves into back then.

  The library was one of the only surveillance-free spots. Papá had built it for my mother’s ever-curious mind, but hardly anyone went in it anymore. My dad claimed he wasn’t intelligent like my mother and had no use for books, but it was simply too painful for him to spend time in here.

  My father was smart in other ways.

  Diego left the door open behind us. Since we’d spent so much time together growing up, it wouldn’t be unusual for a guard or even my dad to find us alone together. But with the door closed? That would raise red flags.

  He spun me around and pressed his lips to mine for a hasty kiss. “Are you really here?”

  “I am.” I put my hands to the chiseled, lean jaw and high cheekbones of a face worthy of being immortalized on a statue. “Every time I see you, you’re less the boy I knew and more the man I love.”

  He took my wrists and kissed the inside of one palm. “I was a man back then, Tali. I had to be.”

  “I know.” His bravery in a world of danger and a life of loss continued to awe me. “Are you happy to see me?”

  “You have no idea.” He went to the long window overlooking the grounds, then turned and perched on the sill. His eyes lingered on me. “Every time I see you, you’re less the girl I knew and more an alluring creature with wiles that could possess the devil.”

  “You’d call me a creature?” I asked, smiling as I formed claws with my hands and stalked toward him in my leopard-print flats.

  He held up his hands to form a square, looking at me through it. “When you’re back at school, I’ll remember you this way—a lioness.”

  “You won’t have to remember,” I said. “You’ll be able to look up and see me with your own eyes.”

  “I want that more than you know.” When I neared, he put his hands on my hips and drew me to him. “I just don’t want you to get your hopes up.”

  “He’ll understand once I tell him how much you mean to me. How much you’ve always meant to me,” I said, smoothing away dark, golden strands that fell right back over his forehead. “My father adores you.”

  “Adores?” He arched an eyebrow. “He adores two things in this world—you, and the memory of your mother. The rest of us hope for his respect and his mercy.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “You’re exaggerating. These days, he’s more forgiving than most. At least, more than my grandpa ever was. Papá is a fair man.”

  “Fairest in all the land,” Diego agreed. “But nothing about the land is fair. Except for his daughter. She’s both her mother and her father, darkly beautiful with cunning eyes.”

  My beloved was a poet—a side he only showed to me. I wanted to melt into him, but I could sense the tension in his forearms, the restraint in his touch. Diego followed my father’s example, though, and rarely volunteered when something was wrong. I would’ve happily ignored any problems, except that I didn’t want my time with Diego encumbered by the stresses of business. “What was your argument about?” I asked.

  “Nothing, nothing, está bien.” He slid a hand under the hem of my top. I arched into the warmth of his skin on mine while acutely aware of the open door behind me. His green eyes danced as he looked up at me. “Tali?”

  “Diego.”

  “We have to talk about our future.”

  I grinned. “That’s why I’m here.”

  “I want nothing more than to be with you.” He sighed. “This town is a jail cell. A death sentence, even. I’m only alive today. Tomorrow is never guaranteed.”

  When he talked like that, it hit too close to the truth. So many nights, I’d stared up at the ceiling of my dorm room waiting to hear from Diego, both craving and fearing news. Keeping in touch with someone whose life depended on staying under the radar hadn’t been easy. “It won’t be for much longer,” I said. “You’ll see.”

  “But how can I leave?” He inched his fingertips a little higher. “I have responsibilities here.”

  I bit my bottom lip as he approached the underwire of my bra. “You’ll get out of them.”

  “This isn’t a job I can just
quit. Your father took me in when he didn’t have to.” He removed his hand from my top to rest it on the outside of my thigh. “Costa brought me into this business and gave me a chance.”

  I didn’t want him to stop touching me, but even though our self-control continued to hold, it was thin. “That doesn’t mean you’re indebted to him forever.”

  “I’ll never be able to leave without his blessing, and he won’t give me that.”

  “He brought you and your brother in at my mother’s urging, out of a sense a duty for what he did to your parents.” I slipped my hand in his and squeezed. “And yes, he could’ve left you behind, or worse, killed both of you. But he’s also the reason you’re an orphan in the first place.”

  Diego’s eyebrows knitted. “I’ve never heard you put it like that. Are you suggesting I hold that against him?”

  “No,” I said. “He won’t feel any guilt. He did what he had to. If he hadn’t gone after your parents, they would’ve come for him. And I don’t think the de la Rosas would’ve taken me in if the situation had been reversed.”

  “They wouldn’t have. I miss my mom and dad, but you’re right—they weren’t so merciful.” He glanced away. “Perhaps it would’ve ended up worse for you than death.”

  What was worse for a young girl than death, I didn’t have to ask. Though our families had been rivals, they’d still abided by a code. Back then, the de la Rosas had trafficked weapons, and the Cruzes had dealt in narcotics. My father and grandfather had imposed a strict pact that neither family would enter into the vile space of human trafficking. And when Papá had discovered Diego’s parents had broken that pact, the de la Rosas had needed to be dealt with.

  But it was plotting against my father that’d ultimately gotten them killed.

  I sighed. “Maybe we should just smuggle you across the border like a brick of cocaine.” I leaned in conspiratorially. “After all, that’s what the Cruz cartel is known for, right? Our unusually high success rate at getting illegal goods into North America?”

  The corner of Diego’s mouth quirked. “Where’d you hear that?”

  “It’s true, isn’t it? My father’s instinct is unrivaled, but you’re the brains behind this business.”

  “I’m hardly that,” he said, but deep dimples appeared with his smile. Once I’d been old enough to notice how sexy they were, they’d proven irresistible. “I just want him to see me as . . .”

  “As?”

  “More than the others.” He kissed the back of my hand. “Someone worthy of being part of his family.”

  “You are worthy. I know that, and so does he.”

  “But I can’t blame him for doubting me after the way my parents conspired against him.”

  I refrained from pointing out what he already knew. Yes, Papá had agreed to take in both boys, but on one condition—that they wouldn’t followed in their father’s footsteps. In order to ensure the boys never made a move against Costa Cruz, my dad had made them watch as he’d put bullets in their parents—a warning.

  “My father knows you’d never go against him,” I said. “Their murder ended a decades-long feud between our families—”

  “Until Cristiano,” Diego said.

  I shivered, a natural response to hearing the devil called by his name.

  Mamá’s hospitality had come with a price—her life. But it had also brought Diego into mine.

  He’d understood that my father and abuelo had had no choice but to stop his parents.

  Cristiano, on the other hand, hadn’t.

  Eleven years later, he should’ve been a distant memory. I tried not to think of his tight grip on my arm, his gun tipping up my chin, or the shadowed, divine face of a godless man. But how could I not look over my shoulder? Cristiano de la Rosa still inspired dread, even from the grave. At least, I hoped that’s where he was. Despite rumors that he’d been running an underground drug empire in Russia, or that he owned a freighting company in Bolivia, or had become an arms trafficker between America and the Philippines—I’d convinced myself he was six feet under. I didn’t sleep well most nights, but assuming he was dead helped a little.

  “My father knows you aren’t your father, and he definitely doesn’t think you’re anything like your brother,” I said.

  Diego stuck his hands in the back pockets of my jeans and pulled me closer. We were tempting fate by being affectionate out in the open, but I couldn’t deny it excited me that Diego couldn’t resist touching me. “Your parents treated Cristiano like a son, and he still turned on them,” Diego said. “No matter how I prove myself, your father keeps me at arm’s length—even before the betrayal, I was just another worker to him. I sometimes question whether Costa would’ve taken me in without my brother.”

  Even though it hurt to hear that, I understood why Diego felt that way. Both boys had been tossed into the Cruz cartel army right away. Cristiano had taken to it like a child to sweets, while sensitive, creative Diego had struggled to adapt.

  “You’ve shown him almost twenty years of loyalty,” I said. “You’re now one of the cartel’s most trusted advisors. You’ve helped make this business what it is—one with an average success rate above eighty-seven percent.”

  Diego’s mouth fell open as he scoff-laughed. “How long were you listening at the door?” He narrowed his eyes, playfully scolding me. “You little snoop.”

  “I just didn’t want to interrupt,” I said. “But is eighty-seven percent good?”

  “The best. Our competitors don’t even touch us. Cartels come to us when they need the absolute best chance of getting their shipment over the border.” He winked. “That’s how we can charge so much.”

  “See?” I said. “You could never be just another worker. Papá knows that.”

  “Let’s get back to the topic of our future.” He squeezed my ass cheeks. “In the States, will we be royalty like we are now?”

  Not if I could help it. To be royalty was to put a target on our backs. We already had that here; I wanted to escape it. There was much more to life than wealth and status. “How does a bungalow near the Pacific Ocean sound?” I asked. “Fresh fish, fruits, and vegetables every day. No guns in sight. And California has great schools.”

  “Schools?”

  “For the children.”

  He chuckled. “We have children, do we? Do they have names?”

  “I’m serious,” I said. “Once I graduate and start my career, we’ll marry in a small, cozy ceremony. Although, the churches there are big and tacky, not like the ones here.” Regretfully. Our little Roman Catholic church in the town center was beautifully maintained thanks to my family. Father lavished millions every year on our small pueblo nestled between arid desert lowlands and lush mountainside on the west side of the country—a business investment more than charity, as it secured him the loyalty of the townspeople and local law enforcement.

  “But how will I show off such a beautiful princess if we have a cozy ceremony?” he teased.

  “Oh, my whole family will be there. Show off what you like, but I don’t care about being fancy—I just want you and the people I love to be there.” Diego made good money here, and had been saving instead of blowing it like a lot of his friends, but it wouldn’t last forever where we were going. California was expensive, and Diego would struggle to find work without experience. I wanted to make sure he knew I didn’t need money to be happy. I cupped his cheek, impatient to feel his lips on mine again. “We can throw a party that would blow all other weddings away if that’s what you want, but all I need is you.”

  He leaned into my palm. “If I could, I’d make you mine tomorrow.”

  Excitement fluttered in my tummy. I’d pictured our nuptials many times. Whether the affair was big or small, blessed by my father or forbidden, the core of it remained the same. Diego was my soul mate. He’d seen me through the dark months after my mother’s death, checking on me whenever he could get away from the ranch, making sure I’d slept and eaten and gotten fresh air when I’d on
ly wanted to give up. It wasn’t hard to conjure the image of promising to care for him too in sickness and in health. Would my father be there to walk me down the aisle?

  Papá was a fair and decent man, but he’d been ruthless once. He didn’t value anyone’s innocence but mine. He’d tried to awaken more in Diego, to turn him into the killer his brother was, but Diego remained pure. A peaceful soul trapped in a fight for survival. He wasn’t made for this world, but there was no way out—except, maybe, through me.

  Diego frowned. “I should go check on things at home before anyone notices my absence.”

  I sighed, but sulking wouldn’t change anything. “When will I see you next?”

  “I wish I knew. I have to show my face at the costume party and do some networking. Then this weekend, I’m trapped at the house to oversee some things.”

  “I’ve still never seen your place,” I hinted. Diego had told me enough about it over the phone that I could picture it clearly. “What if I come over?”

  Diego rose from the windowsill and lifted my chin with his knuckle. “You know I’d love that if it wasn’t too dangerous. It’s a hub. Men come and go from my house all day. And if I know your dad, he’ll have security detail on you the next two weeks. They’d never let you come over, and you can’t be there without them.”

  “But you’ll be there.” Everyone loved to remind me how dangerous this life was as if I didn’t know. And though staying in the dark felt safer, I also knew ignorance could expose me to danger.

  “I’ll be preoccupied, though,” he said.

  “Then what about the party?” I asked. “I promised my dad I wouldn’t show up, but if you think about it, isn’t it really the safest place to be? With all the important people in attendance, there’ll be a guard every meter.”

  “He’s not keeping you from the ballroom for safety reasons, Natalia Lourdes.” Diego only used my full name when he was serious. “His parties are a cesspool.”

  “They’re attended by the highest government officials in the country.”