Today had been particularly exhausting, overseeing the final arrangements as the ballroom was decorated to glittering perfection. I was eager for more Champagne. I’d needed plenty to get me through tonight. I’d had to pose as a happy couple with Sebastián, a dutiful and smiling wife for the benefit of the entire cartel. Even worse, my friends truly had turned on me. I’d been trying my best to greet the women with a smile, but I was met with frostiness and clipped niceties before they quickly moved on to enjoy the party that I’d planned for them.
I tipped back my glass of Champagne and took a longer gulp than was appropriate. I should be keeping up appearances as the composed hostess, but my nerves were fraying fast.
Thankfully, my new husband was currently across the ballroom from me, keeping company with a cluster of men in sharp tuxes. I tried my best not to look directly at him, but he was magnetic. He was undeniably striking in his dark suit, his broad shoulders filling out the tux and making him look even more rakish than usual.
As though he could sense my gaze, his eyes flashed to mine, locking me in place. His tanned features sharpened with hunger, and he looked me over from my bronzed cheeks all the way down my red silk gown and up again, lingering on my small breasts. Despite the distance between us, a shiver raced over my body as though his proprietary gaze was a physical caress.
“Isabel!” A woman’s enthusiastic voice snagged my attention, mercifully breaking the connection between us.
I turned and tried to summon my hostess’ smile, but my lips twitched with the strain. Marisol Cortes was approaching me, her soft features turned hard with determination as she closed the short distance between us.
I took a step back before I could stop myself. Marisol was the reason I’d been forced into my hated marriage. I’d risked everything to save her; I’d written that blog post about her captivity with Raúl Guerrero in an attempt to have him arrested, so she could be free.
But the massive beast of a cartel enforcer was shadowing her, his deep green eyes narrowed on me.
I swallowed hard and resisted the urge to bolt. Only years of my mother’s exacting standards for playing hostess kept me rooted to the spot.
Marisol blinked her big brown eyes, studying my pale features. She paused and turned to her captor. To my shock, she went up onto her toes and brushed a kiss over his granite jaw before speaking to him in a whisper. I couldn’t make out the words, but her tone was low and soothing. She placed a small hand on his massive chest, right over his heart. He freed me from his glare, and his rough-hewn features softened when he turned his fierce gaze on her.
“Anything for you, corderita,” he murmured, shocking me further with the sweet endearment. He dropped a swift, fierce kiss on her lips and then released her. He spared one last warning glance in my direction before stalking off toward Stefano, who was holding court by the bar.
I released the breath I’d been holding, and Marisol’s dainty fingers brushed my hand.
“I’ve been wanting to see you,” she said in her soft, sweet voice. I didn’t understand how this petite, fragile woman could seem happy with Raúl, the fierce killer who smiled when he made men scream.
I swallowed hard. “I’m sorry about the blog post,” I said in a rush. Even though it didn’t make sense, she clearly wanted to be with Raúl. I’d tried to get him arrested. Surely, Marisol would hate me as much as my former friends did.
Tipping back my Champagne flute, I drained the rest of the glass and snagged another from a passing server. Marisol accepted a drink, too, but she didn’t gulp down the bubbly liquid like I did. Her brow pinched with concern.
“Please, don’t be sorry about that,” she reassured me. “I know you were just trying to help me. I heard that they made you marry Sebastián. Raúl promised me that you wouldn’t be hurt.” Her chocolate gaze roved over me, as though searching for signs of injury. “Are you all right?”
A lump instantly formed in my throat. No one had asked if I was all right. None of my friends had shown me the slightest concern. They were all clustered around Carmen, Stefano’s queen, where she reigned at his side. I’d fallen out of their favor.
Or maybe they’d never truly been my friends in the first place. They’d been quick enough to align themselves with Carmen over me. Maybe they’d only ever cared about my family’s power and influence.
My heart sank, and my shoulders slumped.
“Oh, Isabel,” Marisol sighed. “Is Sebastián mistreating you?” Her spine stiffened, but the tiny woman still barely reached my chin. “If he is, I’ll talk to Raúl about it.”