Though the two men were similar in stature, Cristiano had both height and muscle on his former comrade. Apparently, they were matched in other ways, though—Barto had pulled off the impossible feat of breaching my gilded cage’s security system, and I was secretly cheering him on. He’d been Cristiano’s closest friend at the ranch, and my father’s number one since my mother’s death, after Cristiano had vacated the position.
“What’d he tell you, Natalia?” Barto asked, keeping his eyes on Cristiano. “That you’d be safe here with a whole town to protect you? I’ve disproven that completely, and I’m sure I don’t need to tell you—it’s the people within its walls you need to fear.”
“Get in the closet, both of you,” Cristiano ordered Jaz and me over his shoulder.
“Barto won’t hurt us,” I started. “He—”
“Now.”
“Not until you put your guns away,” I snapped at Cristiano. Leveling my voice, I tried my luck with Barto. “There’s no need for them. Please, Barto.”
With obvious reluctance, he made a show of lowering one gun. “Now you,” he said to Cristiano.
Cristiano followed suit but didn’t completely holster his gun until Barto had put away both of his.
Jazmín kept hers raised until Cristiano said, without turning around, “Está bien, Jaz. I’m good.”
Once we’d crossed the room and entered the walk-in closet, she hugged the gun to her chest while I stayed at the doorframe where I could see and hear everything.
“Is it true?” Barto asked.
“It is,” Cristiano said instantly. “We’re married.”
“You’ll pay for it, you know.”
“I’m sure you hope that’s true, but you’re in for disappointment.” Cristiano crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re threatening what’s mine, Barto. And just because it has been mine less than twenty-four hours, don’t think that means I won’t protect it fiercely.”
Barto shrugged. “A man who calls his wife ‘it’ has no regard for her.”
I stopped just short of shouting my agreement. Finally, I had a true ally on my side.
“We’ll handle this as Costa sees fit,” Barto said. “But I see his only daughter in the bed of a man she has hated for over a decade, and I can only assume you forced yourself on her. For that alone, I hope Costa locks you in a room with someone who’ll repay the favor.”
“Are you offering?”
“Fuck you.”
“Fuck you,” Cristiano said. “You know me better than to think I’d hurt Natalia.”
Barto snorted, his posture easing marginally from his militant stance. “You’re not the person I knew. You’re a stranger, and I don’t trust you. Costa wants to give you a chance to explain. Me? I’d have already put a bullet in your head.”
“You would rather she belonged to Diego?” Cristiano asked, arching an eyebrow.
Barto narrowed his eyes, shaking his head. “We’re not talking about Diego. You’ve interfered with Costa’s family. For some reason, he wants you alive, but he’d believe that you attacked me and I had to defend myself. Especially with Natalia as my witness.”
“Good luck getting her to lie for anyone but Diego,” Cristiano muttered.
I pursed my lips. It wasn’t exactly the time to passive-aggressively raise grievances. “I think I’d make a concession in this case,” I offered.
Cristiano clenched his jaw. “Get back in the closet.”
“Change, Natalia,” Barto said. “You’re coming home.”
“She’s my wife. Where she goes, I go. Costa is invited here.” Cristiano turned his head over his shoulder while keeping Barto in his sight. “Tell this brute of a bodyguard, Natalia.”
“It’s . . . true,” I conceded. “Cristiano was planning to invite my father over today.”
“Forgive Costa if he’s lost any reason at all to trust the man who might have murdered his wife,” Barto said.
Barto still believed Cristiano was guilty. Or was it that he was beginning to waver in that conviction? Barto generally didn’t use words like might or maybe.
“He wants to see you both at the house,” Barto said. “Now.”
“Where he, or Diego, or anyone can try to ambush us?” Cristiano straightened his tie. “Costa can come to me.”
“Diego isn’t there,” Barto said.
Where was he? I refrained from asking, knowing any mention of Diego from me would change the entire tone of the conversation, and not in my favor.
They stared at each other, distrust radiating from each of them, an interloper and a kidnapper in a standoff. We were going to be here all day.
I exited the closet, approaching them slowly, like I might a pack of wild dogs, and touched Cristiano’s back. He stiffened, his tensed muscles only reinforcing the obvious power beneath my hand. “Please, can we go?” I whispered. I hoped Papá wouldn’t need any convincing to get me out of this marriage, but on my turf, I’d have a better chance of making my argument. “Your problem is not with my father.”
“Nobody will try anything,” Barto said. “You have my word.”
Cristiano kept his eyes on him and sniffed. “It holds no weight.”