Guarded (Calavera Hotels #3)

23. Ariella

Chapter 23

Ariella

I step out of the bathroom and stare at the dress Preston sent me. Nero was right. This was not me at all.

“I can’t wear that.” I groan to Guapo.

“Guapo! Bad boy!” I shout when I find him humping my Hello Kitty pillow.

“You need to control yourself, cabrón.” I scold him before grabbing the pillow.

I need to control myself. Somebody, please tell me to control myself. I have to convince the world that Nero is my bodyguard and then convince my body of the same thing. Then, I need to make sure it looks like I am madly in love with a man I have never met. No pressure.

Opening my closet, I stare at the pink sparkly dress I had initially planned to wear. According to my daily horoscope, my day revolves around effort and persistence. This seemed like something I should be persistent about. Paparazzi would likely be at this event, and it was my reputation on the line.

Also, if, by chance, Cesidio Verde Biondini murdered me, I would want to be murdered in satin sparkles, not basic cotton. I wouldn’t get killed, though. My horoscope also said, “Support from a close friend will uplift your spirits, allowing you to tackle challenges with a renewed vigor.” Honestly, no se que chingados ‘renewed vigor’ meant, but I’m pretty sure the universe wouldn’t let me die tonight.

What my horoscope doesn’t say is what to do with a six-foot broody biker. I hear him enter the house while I’m curling my hair.

Following a YouTube tutorial, I apply a generous amount of makeup, highlighting, and contouring as I look at myself in the mirror. Anticipation and Anxiety remind me that this is happening: I am going to meet my future husband.

The first chapter of the rest of my life. Despite the circumstances, I still want it to be perfect. I want the fairy tale. I grab a pink clutch from my collection and step into clear pumps. Lista.

Walking into the kitchen, I find a large bouquet of pink carnations, a package of iced oatmeal cookies, and a six-pack of Dr. Pepper.

“Ari, you look-” I turn around to see Nero in a black suit, his brows furrowing when he sees my emotional ones.

“Did you get these for me?” I ask.

It’s not an expensive gift, but it’s better than an expensive gift. It was a sweet, thoughtful gesture that was tailored to me.

“I did.”

“Thank you,” I whisper, holding the cookies to my chest.

“Omg, before we go!” I stand beside him and extend my arm to take a quick picture.

“We look so cute!” I say, looking over the picture. The sight of Nero in a suit did something unruly to my brain. Guapo starts barking.

“Oh no! Is my little baby jealous?” I grab Guapo and kiss him. “We have to take one with him. Look, he’s sad he can’t go with us.”

Nero shakes his head at me but then reluctantly picks up Guapo and waits for me. Sticking out my arm, I angle the phone in front of us and snap the picture.

“Let’s get you out of here,” Nero says, setting Guapo into his bed before leading me out of the penthouse.

There’s a limo waiting out front. I step inside, and Nero follows behind me, taking the seat across from me. His long legs stretch out in front of him, his hands clasped together as he looks out the window. Starving for his attention, I shift in my seat, accidentally brushing his shoe with the tip of my pointy stiletto.

“Sorry,” I say.

His weighted stare roams over mine.

God, he was handsome.

In the most unfair of ways. His brown skin, dark eyes, neatly trimmed beard, and short, gelled curls. I squeeze my legs together to put out the heat building there at the sight of him.

“Come here, “ he commands, patting his lap. I swallow and look out the closed window behind the driver.

“It’s just Louie and Jasper up there.” He says, pulling my attention back to him.

“Don’t make me ask again, Ari. Come here.” His voice is darker than his original command.

I move forward, and he pulls me into his lap. I sit on his left thigh, my right arm wrapped around his shoulders. Being this close to him and looking in his dark eyes somehow always feels safe. Nero feels safe to me.

“Good Girl.” He says, running his hand down my stretched-out legs. “You look so much better in pink.”

I feel confident about my outfit choice for the night. The pink sequined dress had flowy sleeves that covered the length of my arms, but the dress stopped at my upper thigh. A deep V in the front of the dress illuminated my breasts. The twisted updo and bright pink lipstick pulled the entire look together.

“You have no idea how bad I want to smear this lipstick all over my cock.” Nero whispers into my ear. Goosebumps break loose on my legs, and Nero hums in approval.

“We need to talk about earlier, Manikà. What you said.”

I suck in a breath as his hand travels up higher under the hem of my dress.

“What did you mean by ‘my type?’” His hand reaches higher as his thumb finds my clit through my panties. My heartbeat accelerates in my chest when he begins to draw light circles over the sensitive nub.

“Um. I. Ugh. I don’t know, like girls who wear leather, girls who are more experienced and sexy.” I mumble.

He pulls his hand from where he had been fondling me. Gripping my face, he turns me to look at him.

“You are my type, Ariella. Exactly as you are. That’s sexy to me.”

I want to believe him. For a second, I do because I want to feed into the illusion that he feels something for me. His hand comes back to my core. I let out a yelp when he pinches my clit.

“No more bratty behavior. No more jealous outbursts. Not when I have to watch you with another man all night. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” I gasp.

He rubs the sensitive area where the pain has just exploded. When he plunges two fingers inside me, my hips jerk. I grab a fistful of his suit jacket. He curls his fingers inside me. My head falls back, taking in the bursts of pleasure.

“You’re pussy is soaking my fingers.” He thrusts his fingers inside me.

His thumb circling over my clit.

Back and forth.

The pressure slowly climbs, and heat rises in my body. I let out a frustrated sound when he stops thrusting into me.

“Eyes on me.” He demands.

I open them to find his dark ones piercing into mine. My eyes stay on his even as I feel him pulling my soaked thong down my legs. He thrusts two fingers back inside me, then adds a third, stretching me.

“More, Nero, I need more.” My voice is throaty as I call his demons out to play.

Again he pinches my clit. It’s a quick burst of agony replaced with ecstasy as he thrusts his fingers back inside me. Pressure rebuilding with every thrust.

His dark eyes fill with carnal devotion.

“My little slut, likes it rough.”

He shoves his fingers hard into me fucking me like an animal. Intervertantly pinching down on my clit. The pressure and pain mix just the way I like it. He’s corrupted my body to crave this.

Pressure builds, and moans fall from my lips, heightening in sync with each brutal thrust of his fingers.

“Ah.” I cry, my pussy throbbing as I ride his hand.

“That’s it, Ari. He may claim you as his girlfriend tonight, but don’t forget who owns this pussy.”

I come with a violent shake as pleasure bursts through my core.

Nero removes his hand and lifts it before my hooded eyes. My body is still riding the aftermath of shock and pleasure. I stare at my arousal, glistening on his fingers before he brings them to his mouth and sucks them clean.

He moves my limp body to the empty seat in front of me. Grabbing napkins from the bar, he wipes off the cum leaking down my legs. I’m still catching my breath when I feel the limo slowing down. Pulling myself upright, I peek out the window to find rows of cars stalled in front of us. I slide my feet back into my heels and fix my dress.

“Can you hand me my panties?” I ask, avoiding eye contact with Nero.

“No.”

“What? Nero, I can’t go in there with no panties!” I protest.

“You can, and you will.” He replies arrogantly.

The smug smile on his lips unravels me, but my time to argue with him is limited when the limo stops before the red carpet entrance.

A quiver in my stomach replaces the adrenaline I had felt moments ago. Bright lights from cameras flash and reporters wait patiently outside. Nero gets out first, holding the door open. He stretches his hand out to me. I place my shaking palm in his warm one and let him pull me to my feet.

He squeezes my hand slightly before releasing it, then nods to the red carpet. Fear can’t be seen on my face. I know that, so I pull out the invisible mask. The one equipped with a false sense of confidence.

This was all a show. The Cuevas family picked this location because of the media coverage.

Nero steps to the side, and I look at him for reassurance before I step onto the red carpet. I smile at the cameras and wave.

Perfect daughter, perfect girlfriend, perfect woman.

My role tonight was to convince the world that I was having a private romance with Preston Cuevas and that we were taking our relationship public tonight.

Every episode of La Rosa de Guadalupe , my Abuela made me sit through had brought me to this moment. Could I fool the world into thinking I was in love with Preston Cuevas?

I walk methodically down the red carpet, smiling and waving. Then, I turn, put my hand on my hip, and smile again. Reporters swarm from the sidelines when they see me descending the aisle.

“Miss Reyes, you look stunning! What’s the fit for this evening?”

“Balenciaga,” I say sweetly into the microphone before more are shoved in front of me.

“Miss Reyes, can we expect a picture of you and the Congressman?”

“Where is Preston Cuevas?”

“How do you feel about the claims made by Messina?”

I swallow and feel the dark room closing in on me as a crowd forms around me. Question after question is shoved at me. I don’t have time to answer, and anxiety creeps in.

The darkness dissipates when I feel a touch on my lower back. I look up to see Nero’s stoic, cold face, his eyes hidden behind black shades as he guides me forward. Jasper pushes through the crowd in front of us to the restaurant entrance.

Once checked in, we are taken through the main lobby and whisked away to the main dining room, facing a small stage at the front. I spot my parents and push down the massive panic attack that is arising. Plastering a fake smile on my face, I walk toward the figure I recognize coming toward me.

“You’re much more beautiful in person than I realized.” He whispers into my ear. My eyes soften, and I try like hell to look like I’m lusting over him.

In another life, I would consider Preston Cuevas the perfect husband. Tall and lean, with a straight nose and caramel complexion, he looks like a politician through and through.

Pulling me into him effortlessly, he presses his lips to mine. He pauses there, waiting for the flashing lights to go off around us before releasing me. Light eyes glisten as he stares into my softened one.

Together, we fool the world around us. We fool them all. I can’t fool myself, though. Not when inside I feel entirely dead to his touch. I don’t turn around to check, but I know if I did, I would find death-cold eyes staring back at me.

I never imagined anyone would surpass my Tia Ponciana on my list of the most intolerable women I have ever met, but tonight’s a first for everything.

Paola Cuevas, my future mother-in-law, officially held the winning title. Her frequent remarks made scratches on a chalkboard sound like a soothing lullaby. From the moment Preston walked me to the table, her judgment was locked and loaded.

“Did you not like the dress I picked for you?”

“The blondes a bit trashy. I like a more natural look.”

“You look a little underweight. You’ll need to eat up so you can get pregnant right away.”

Is fuck off an emotion? Cause I feel that it should be.

On and on, Paola goes.

Swirling her wine around in her glass as her commentaries rave on.

My mother looks uncomfortable, but Adriana Reyes would rather keep the peace than advocate for me. She could at least make an effort to change the subject.

Which she does only when Paola and her agree on how easy it is to raise sons. My mother’s eyes light up, and she jumps at the opportunity to brag about Axel.

This is my least favorite subject, but beggars can’t be choosers.

I swirl my wine in the glass the way I had seen Paola do and look down the table where my father is laughing with Preston and his younger brother, Lionel. I smile at my dad when he catches me watching. I’d do anything for my dad.

All those times, he put me on a pedestal and told me how great I was. I trust that he makes every decision with my best interest in mind, including this one.

A persistent pang in my stomach tells me to look behind me. I know Nero is standing with his hands clasped in front of him like the other guards in the restaurant. I keep my eyes forward. Looking over the table, I can see a range of powerful families. Some I recognize, and others I don’t. Different languages flow in the atmosphere. I look to see if I can spot the Biondini brothers, but I come up short.

Servers come by with appetizers, and my eyes widen with delight when I see all the food. Arancini, Polenta Crostini with tuna, and Bruschetta. I’m on my second Arancini when the lights go up, and the music around us lowers.

“Welcome to Verdis. We are honored to have you on our opening night. My name is Cesidio Verde Biondini. I want to thank you personally for joining me today. This restaurant has been a dream of mine since the day I learned to cook. The Italian population in Texas is underappreciated, but I hope that with my family’s return, we can find resourceful friends within this community.”

There’s a round of applause, and I keep my eyes glued to Cesidio as he walks off the stage. Preston excuses himself from the table, and I see a way for me to escape. I remove myself from the table, keeping my eyes on Preston when Nero approaches me.

“I need to talk to Preston.” I lie, putting my hand up.

This was my only opportunity to help Genesis. I walk past Nero but don’t miss the scowl on his face. I pretend to follow Preston while keeping my eyes on Cesidio. Preston makes his way to the second dining room, and I split, turning into a dark hallway.

A hand closes over my mouth. I’m pulled backward, hitting a hard chest. An uneasy feeling floods my body.

“Who the fuck are you, and why are you following me?” a deep voice says.

I don’t move or fight. I put my hands in the air, surrendering to the voice behind me. He removes his hand and pushes a gun to my back, leading me into a large office.

“I have a message from my friend,” I say breathlessly, holding my hands up in front of me.

“What friend?” he says, his eyes narrowing on me.

His dark green eyes zoom in on me, reading my expression. There’s only an emotionless one on his as he stares down at me, the gun still pointed at me. There’s no doubt in my mind he will kill me. I quickly reach a shaky hand into my bra, grabbing the note.

“Her name is Genesis. Genesis Fernandez, I think you might have been the one to save us.” He reaches out and takes the paper.

“You’re Ariella Reyes?” He says, dropping the gun.

“Yes. Nice to meet you,” I say, offering a genuine smile to the man who wanted to shoot me three seconds ago.

“Thank you for this.” He moves behind the desk and places the note in the top drawer.

“Am I good to go?” I ask nervously.

“Yes, of course. Sorry if I scared you. That was not my intention, but one could never be too careful. Enjoy your night.” He says, and I walk to the door.

“Oh, but Miss Reyes. Before you go, be careful with the company you keep. That councilman of yours has some very nasty habits.”