“Did Bianca have the same concerns about me that she did Diego?” I asked, because I had complete confidence how he’d answer.
“You know she didn’t,” Costa said. “She trusted you and thought you capable of great things.”
With the word great, Natalia looked crestfallen. “You said you didn’t want me with a good man, but a great one,” she whispered.
Costa turned his head over his shoulder to her. “I did, yes.”
“Then Bianca would support our union, as should you,” I said, reluctantly peeling my eyes from her. “As long as Natalia’s under my roof, you have my word I’ll do my best to see her loved, treated well, and protected, as you’ve asked of me.”
“Then under your roof she will be. But if I hear a whisper of harm against her, you will have a father’s rage to deal with, and I don’t think I have to tell you what that means.”
“Understood.”
I could practically hear Natalia’s teeth grinding from where she stood, any despair vanishing. “You talk about me—my virginity, my mother, my past and future—as if I’m not in the room.” She whipped her eyes to me. “Both of you.”
She had been knocked down in this fight, but she struggled to get back up. Now that Costa had acknowledged her as my wife, I knew he’d take my lead. I nodded for her to continue, silently encouraging her.
“I have been traded between families, and brothers, even by my own father.” She paused for a few deep breaths, struggling not to cry as she addressed us both. Her forearms tautened as she made fists and pressed on. “You can’t tell me who to love, and you don’t get to shame me for sleeping with Diego when it was my choice. It was my mistake to make.”
Tension I hadn’t even realized I’d been holding drained from my muscles. I exhaled through my nose as her words etched themselves into my mind. She knew she’d made a mistake. This early on, that realization was the best I could hope for. She may have been holding onto a shred of what she thought was love for him—I couldn’t fault her that. It would dissolve and fizzle, because it was never real. But for her to acknowledge that Diego had betrayed her meant she’d soon be strong enough to push him out of the way for good.
And I’d be standing in his place.
“I am not your pawn,” she said. “You can move me around, buy me, sell me, berate me, but you won’t break me. I’ve known the greatest pain a woman can—first losing my mother, and then having my heart pulverized and my love violated so ruthlessly. But I haven’t broken yet, and I won’t.”
She stormed out of the room and slammed the door behind her.
She was hurting, but I wouldn’t pity her. She’d been bent but not broken, as she’d said. It was necessary in order for her to come back stronger and one day take her place as my queen.
Because now, there was no question she would be. Costa had been my biggest obstacle in the way of this marriage.
Natalia was mine now, and nothing could change that.
For every door she slammed, I would open another. I’d pursue her. I’d break down that defiance until I found myself in her sweet core. She would cross over into the darkness. And I’d be waiting with open arms.
Costa pulled a box of cigars from his desk. “You say my enemies are yours,” he said, picking one out. “But yours are also mine. And I’ve heard rumblings.”
Belmonte-Ruiz. They were coming for me, and they had every right to. I’d been fucking with their business for a while now, but I’d gotten more aggressive lately. Before I’d ever known it would put Natalia and Costa at risk. It was a train I couldn’t stop, and one I didn’t want to.
“What you’ve heard is most likely true,” I said, approaching the desk. “I have it under control, but I’m happy to bring you up to speed.”
“Do.” Costa slid the box of cigars toward me before cutting his own. “Tell me everything.”
“There’s only one thing to tell.” I held up a cigar to the light and ran it under my nose with a long inhale, indulging in the ripe cherry and tobacco aromas. “I’m going to bring Belmonte-Ruiz down.”
8
Natalia
The doors and windows to my mother’s art studio had likely been shut since Diego’s and my last visit. I hauled open the heavy curtains and let sunlight into the still and quiet room. Cacti and brush dotted the vast desert surrounding the house—a stark contrast to the mountainous, verdant, sea-misted landscape of my new home.
The familiar, dusty vista of my childhood did little to soothe me. Two men I’d trusted more than anyone, and one I barely trusted not to murder me in the night, had completely and utterly failed me. I’d had to fight simply to be in the room as Papá and Cristiano had discussed the trajectory of my life.
If I wanted out of my marriage, I couldn’t rely on anyone else. What did getting out even mean? I couldn’t run. I’d have to step into the ring with Cristiano and pull no punches. Escape couldn’t be physical, so it had to be mental. Emotional. In order to know what it would take to win against Cristiano, I had to know Cristiano.
When the door opened behind me, I closed my eyes. I didn’t have to turn to know it wasn’t Cristiano—the air in any room shifted entirely when he entered.
I’d chosen the art studio on purpose. If Diego was in the house, he would find me in here, the room my father and his staff rarely entered.
“Princesa.”
I’d know Diego’s voice anywhere. A confusing mix of anger, love, and hurt flooded through me—along with hints of relief. I realized I’d thought there was a chance I’d never see him again.
I turned around. Aside from dark stubble, he looked no better or worse than he had the day before. Our wedding day. His golden-brown hair swayed past his ears as he strode across the room.
Before I could process anything, he’d gathered me in his arms. “I knew you’d come up here, my sweet Natalia,” he whispered. “Costa sent me to the ranch, but I couldn’t stay away knowing you were here.” He kissed my cheeks, nose, and forehead. “Hardly any time has passed since I’ve drunk from your lips, and yet I feel a painful thirst.”
He pressed his mouth to mine. The familiar feel of his kiss comforted me. It would’ve been so easy to sink into. A day earlier, I would have. A day earlier, I had. But everything had changed.
More than ever, I wanted to ignore reality, but more than ever, I couldn’t. And Diego was to blame for that.
I put my hands on his chest and pushed him away. “Drink from somewhere else, you . . . you lying, manipulative bastard.”
Diego’s eyes widened as my own shock hit. I’d never called him anything close to that before.
He raked a hand through his hair and made a fist. “Natalia. I know you must be angry—”
“You tricked me.” My heart pounded as I drew on the strength I’d started to find in my father’s study just now. “I showed up at the church like a fool thinking I was walking into eternity with you. I gave you my virginity.”
“I know—let’s just slow down,” he said, taking my hands and bringing them to his mouth. “Please. You have every right to rail at me, but first, I just need to know if you’re okay.”
His lips warmed my knuckles as they had many times before. Before, when we were shy and new at this. Before, when we’d had to hide our developing love from others. Before—when I had been his. That mouth had soothed mine, had formed words I’d never forget, and now . . . lies I’d never forgive.
“Don’t.” I yanked my hands back and turned my face away. “I can’t even look at you.”
“You know I had no choice—”
“There’s always a choice.” Cristiano’s refrain was bitter on my tongue because I hated to admit it was true. Diego’d had more of a choice than I had. He’d put his life and the lives of the people I loved on my shoulders. “You chose to make a risky deal. You chose to trade my freedom for yours.” A vision washed over me—Diego climbing up the wood lattice to my bedroom. I’d been so scared he would fall. Now I wondered if it would’ve been such a
bad thing. “You came to my bedroom and stole everything from me.”
“Tali.”
I stepped back from him, resisting the pained way he said my name. “You don’t even deny it.”
He shrugged helplessly as if lost to some higher power. “I was scared if I told you what was going to happen, you’d make me leave, and we’d never get the night we deserved. I had no idea if it would be our only chance to—”
“So it’s true.” I’d hoped Cristiano was wrong, though I’d suspected he wasn’t. Hearing how Diego had plotted to deceive me made my skin crawl.
He swallowed as tears filled his eyes. “Forgive me.”
“How can I? You made one of the most important decisions of my life for me. And I’m not even talking about the wedding.” A wave of grief rolled through me, and I turned away from him. “You hurt me.”
“I know.”
The man who stood in front of me had never given me any reason not to trust him—until now. He’d wanted to know if I was okay? It was a simple question I’d answered countless times before. Too simple. Physically, I was unharmed. The last twenty-four hours had been a whirlwind of emotions from fear and anger to curiosity and even unwelcome desire. My request to Diego should’ve been straightforward—help me break free of Cristiano’s chains. But as my expectations of the Badlands had been wrong, so was my trust in Diego also weaker than it’d been the day before.
I crossed my arms and moved to look out one of the glass doors. “You don’t get to care how I am anymore.”
Silence filled the room as Diego’s eyes burned into the back of my head. “But you are okay,” he said, as if it’d just dawned on him. Relief threaded his voice. “He didn’t consummate the marriage. I knew he wouldn’t when we made the arrangement.”
My first reaction was to doubt him, but curiosity got the better of me. I glanced over my shoulder, and then turned to face him. “How could you have possibly known?”
“I put two and two together. He insisted you come to the church willingly. That extends to his bed as well.” Diego massaged his jaw, looking to the side as if thinking over his next words. “Cristiano can’t see himself as our father. He has twisted and manipulative ways of justifying his actions—even to himself.” He paused and met my eyes. “You have to stay alert at all times, Natalia.”
There was no other way to deal with Cristiano. Having a conversation with him was on par with navigating a chessboard. “I know that,” I said.
“Do you?” He peered at me. “Because he’s already coming between you and me.”
“You came between you and me,” I said.
“That’s what he wants you to think. Who benefits most from a divide between you and me? Between Costa and me? I warned you Cristiano would try to do this.”
I swallowed audibly. I’d always believed anything Diego had said. That he’d had my best interest at heart. Now, I questioned all of it.
But Cristiano had fed these doubts in my head. I’d be a fool to think he wouldn’t play with my mind just like Diego would. Neither brother was innocent.
“He’ll tell you I took your virginity to get back at him instead of the truth—I wanted one night with the woman I love. He’ll say I plotted against your family.” Diego was most handsome when he was pained—or acting like he was. His eyebrows met, wrinkling his bronzed forehead as he scrubbed his hands through his hair. “Fuck. If Cristiano can kill your mom and convince Costa he didn’t—I wouldn’t even be surprised if he tried to pin that on me, too. Just like he blames me for all the hardships he endured after he had to flee from here.”
I had to look back out the window to keep from giving into him. With his serious, pouty frown and disheveled hair, still in the rumpled clothing he’d worn the day before, he was made to look tormented.
Cristiano had said, or insinuated, some of the things Diego accused him of. I doubted Diego’s words now more than ever, but that didn’t mean I trusted Cristiano, either. Who could I believe? At this point, I couldn’t even put my fate in my father’s hands.
“Cristiano said Papá and I were never in true danger—that he was willing to make a deal with the Maldonados so only you would pay the price.”
“Of course he did. A convenient lie.” Diego didn’t even seem ruffled, as if he’d expected such a brash accusation by his brother. He approached my back. He gathered my hair in a hand and moved it over my shoulder before running a knuckle down my spine. “Please turn around. We don’t have much time together, and I don’t want to waste a moment not looking at you.”
I closed my eyes. “Don’t touch me.”
“I have a plan.”
I hadn’t known I’d been expecting those words until he voiced them. I glanced at the ground, inhaling and exhaling through my nose. Diego had a plan—sure. But for long had it already been in play?
I suspected Cristiano would tell me it was time to join the game if I had any chance at winning. Diego’s deception stung worse because I’d loved and had planned a future with him, but I had to recognize that things had changed. I could mourn the loss of him another time. Now, I needed to get my emotions in check, or else they’d consume me, and I’d never get my freedom back—from any of them.
I turned to meet Diego’s soulful green eyes. “There’s my girl,” he said, smiling as if the past few minutes hadn’t happened. He took my hands, slouching as he studied them.
This time, I didn’t pull away. If Diego was as smart, cunning, and patient as Cristiano made him out to be, then he likely had either knowledge or a plan that could help me dissolve this marriage. Whether that meant finding a way to get Cristiano to lose interest in me or bringing him down from the inside, there had to be a way out.
Diego ran a thumb over my wedding ring. “It was my mother’s.”
I drew back. I’d assumed it was meaningless. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. I’m surprised he kept it.” He frowned. “It means nothing to him, and it has no real value to a man of his wealth.”
“Maybe it’s sentimental,” I said.
Diego squeezed his hands around mine. “He had her killed. I prayed to her, to Bianca, to my dead ancestors to keep you safe from him.” He clenched his jaw. “My prayers have been answered. You remain mine. Your heart, soul, and body.”
I wasn’t his. Not anymore. It hurt for me to admit that, but his betrayal had been too thorough. It was also liberating in a way. I had only myself to look out for now. “Belonging to Cristiano leaves no room for anyone else,” I said. “You must know your brother has a possessive side.”
“But you are mine, first and always. It’s written right here on my body.” Diego shifted our grip to expose his small tattoo, our initials along the inside of his ring finger. “You’re what I want, Tali. Try to hold my brother off. Make sure he knows you don’t want to sleep with him, and he’ll keep his distance.”
“What do you think I’ve done?” I asked, slipping my hands from his. “Begged him for it?”
Except, I had. And I might’ve rubbed it in Diego’s face if I wasn’t so ashamed of it. That not only had I begged for my life, but also for a man who’d traded me, who’d used me.
But worst of all, I had fallen into Cristiano’s kiss. Nearly melted at his touch. And then begged for his destruction. His desire had incited my own.
I’d felt Cristiano’s carnal need against me more than once, and it was undeniable. Diego might think Cristiano would wait, but there was a line, and Cristiano would cross it. The question was who would be in control when he did—him or me?
“I’m sorry. You’re right.” Diego wet his lips, glancing at mine as if there was a chance in hell I’d give in to a kiss. “I’m soothed by the fact that I’m still the only one to have you. And if all goes according to plan, I will be the only one.”
I lifted my chin. I wanted to know the plan. Not because I thought he’d be successful, but because any information was power—and if I was going to save myself, I’d need all the power I could get, wherever I could g
rab it. “How are you going to get me out?”
His mouth slid into a smile. “All those snooping skills you’ve been honing will finally be put to good use.”
My scalp prickled. “I can’t snoop in Cristiano’s house. If he catches me . . .” I didn’t need to finish my sentence. A leak in any cartel would be plugged and sealed as fast—and as ruthlessly—as possible.
“You’re as stealthy as anyone I know. I need you to look for information on a cartel.”
“The Maldonados?”
“No, not those hotheaded idiots—although, continue to ask Cristiano about them. It will distract him.” He inclined his head, growing more serious. “The Belmonte-Ruiz cartel is more organized. They know what they’re doing.”
Belmonte-Ruiz. Was that the “BR” Cristiano had mentioned on the patio the night before?
“Tali?” Diego ducked his head to catch my gaze. “Do you know something about them?”
I hesitated. Cristiano had trusted me with information our first night together—a privilege I’d rarely been afforded with Papá, and one it had taken me years to earn with Diego. Even though Diego had finally confided in me about the Maldonados, it was clear now, given my current situation, there was just as much he hadn’t told me.
For the first time, I didn’t know where my loyalty lay. It wasn’t with Cristiano, but that didn’t mean it was with Diego.
And I didn’t need to be told that anybody outside of a cartel was an enemy to that cartel—and anybody who fed enemies information might as well be dead.
“I’ve never heard of them,” I said, and it wasn’t a complete lie. “Who are they?”
“I’ve told you Cristiano and his cartel are deeply entrenched in the sex trade,” Diego said. “Calavera has been ambushing and stealing Belmonte-Ruiz shipments.”
“Shipments?”
“People.”
Blood drained from my face. That aligned with what Cristiano had said the night before—that payment was a courtesy and next time, he’d take the shipment. I was disgusted but not surprised he’d referred to people so callously.
Violent Ends (White Monarch Book 2) Page 10