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.