“You were naïve back then, but you’re old enough to know better now. Nothing is black and white.” He slid my glass toward a bartender, who refilled the vodka and replaced it in front of me.
I resisted my temptation to drink more. The liquor was dangerously good, and I needed my wits about me. “No, thank you,” I said.
Cristiano leaned in. “This is a game, Natalia, and you have to play—or you’ll lose. Learn your lesson should someone care enough to teach you. And never doubt that you are a prize to hold tight.” He slipped an arm around my waist like we were going to tango again, and advanced until I was backed up against the lip of the bar. When our bodies were flush, he spoke firmly. “Believe me when I say, if Diego’s and my roles were reversed, I would hold you so tight, you would forget what it was to breathe. And I would not, for neither money nor power, ever send you into the fire just to see my enemy burn as he has done.”
My breathing sped. He was close, his spicy scent as smooth and dangerous as Russian vodka. And he was talking shit about the man I loved. Diego would never put me at risk. He’d fought me on coming here in the first place. There was no way Cristiano could know I’d walked into the blaze on my own, but let him distract himself into thinking Diego had orchestrated this. “Why do you care how Diego holds me?” I asked.
“Because I held you as a baby,” he said intently. “I was responsible for your life once.” Cristiano’s hand tensed over my lower back. “My brother’s using you to light the fire, but don’t forget—a match also burns.”
I resisted the mental image of Cristiano cradling me as an infant. That was what I’d hoped to tap into, but he also knew exactly how to soften me. I wanted to believe he’d cared for my family at some point during the eight years he’d been with us.
“Now, it’s my turn for questions,” he said, easing back. He fixed the roll of one shirtsleeve so it exposed a little more of his dark, brawny forearm. “That night at the costume party when I found you with my brother in the garden—was he forceful with you?”
Unprepared for the topic change, I didn’t answer right away. What did Cristiano think he’d seen that night by the fountain? Diego’d had one hand nearly between my legs with his other holding my jaw. From behind, it could’ve looked as if he’d been covering my mouth as he’d made demands.
“Tell me how much you love me. I won’t ask again.”
“No,” I said. “Diego’s not like you.”
“And how am I?”
“I’ve heard things. I’ve seen things. I know what you do to women.”
He pressed his lips together, assessing me coolly. “And yet you still tested me by coming here. Some part of you must not believe the rumors.”
“I believe them,” I said without hesitation so he wouldn’t guess the truth—where Cristiano was concerned, I was beginning to question anything I knew.
“You didn’t answer my question.” He took his cell from his shirt pocket as it vibrated but kept his eyes on me. “Has he ever so much as laid a finger on you without your permission?”
“No,” I said. “We were playing a game.” It was the most plausible excuse—and yet it also held truth.
One of Cristiano’s dark, thick brows lifted. Without removing his eyes from me, he answered his phone. “Sí.” His eyes roamed over the alcohol bottles lining the back wall of the bar. After a pause, he said, “Adelante” and ended the call. While typing out a message, he said to me, “Tell Diego to take you straight home. It’s not safe after dark right now.”
After dark, when the creatures of the night played. “I suppose you would know.”
“You’re looking for a monster, and you found one in me.” He tucked his phone back in his pocket. “But I’m not the one you should fear. Just remember—no monster thinks of himself that way. He’s just living by a different code than yours.” He nodded once at me and turned to leave. “Goodnight, Natalia.”
Goodnight? I hadn’t gotten nearly what I’d wanted from him. If anything, I only had more questions. This was my last shot. I had to demand his attention. “What’s your involvement with the Maldonados?”
He froze. His large frame expanded with a breath, his muscles pulling gracefully under his white dress shirt. Even from behind, he was beautiful—and menacing.
Had I gone too far? I slid a couple steps back along the edge of the bar.
Getting him to talk in hopes that something useful might slip was one thing. But legitimate information was dangerous. If he thought I actually knew anything, that could make me a liability. Or worse—a threat.