Chapter 8
There was something comforting in the way her new clothes and makeup made her look. Beatrice had always used beauty that way. Looking gorgeous had given her added confidence, sure, but it had also separated her from the people around her, like a mask that made them keep their distance.
As she studied herself in the mirror, using a sponge to blend the makeup a tad more on her chin, she felt her confidence was still lacking. But the mask… the mask was firmly in place.
The way her new heels clicked on the floor of the Coronella estate sent an echo shuddering through the ice inside her. With each step, they helped her hips sway, helped to tell others that she was too good to be touched. Her body was a little skinnier than it had been, but being attractive had never been out of reach.
Caring about it had turned from a joy to a responsibility. Her husband hadn’t been pleased when she’d stopped putting in effort for a short time. She’d gone back to her old ways, the ones he liked, after her jaw had healed.
Prior husband, she reminded herself as she paused at the bottom of the steps. Montrell was at the end of the hall, talking to one of his men.
She shouldn’t have gone into his room. He’d told her nothing would happen until she did, and now she had. Panic twisted inside her at the door she’d opened between them. He’d bring up her visit when they next spoke and expect more. Self-sabotage was the worst kind of idiocy. She’d constantly done it in her first marriage, letting the festering humiliation explode in ways that only hurt her more.
Closest to her was one of the Coronella soldiers. She didn’t recognize him, but that wasn’t a surprise. He looked a little young, too, eager as he stared down the hall toward the boss they all worshipped. His gaze hadn’t lingered on her at all.
Which was a good thing, really.
But Montrell was heading their way, and it was like she could almost see the soldier’s tail wag. His lips didn’t smile, not quite, and his dark hair was a little mussed, but the rest of him looked like all the soldiers. A dark suit that was more put together than their boss.
Beatrice crossed the hall to him, putting her hand over his tie and pushing the young soldier into the wall.
And, oh yeah, the soldier was looking at her now. His wide-eyed stare gave her a zing of something inside her stomach. Power, maybe, because she sure as hell wasn’t turned on. Her lips descended on his anyway as she buried her other hand in his hair, mussing it up even more. The soldier wasn’t returning her kiss, but she liked that he was frozen. It matched how she was feeling.
Her mind raced as she pressed her lips against his harder. It made them even more numb, like the night before.
She’d told Montrell she wanted other men, but she hadn’t been serious. So what the hell was she doing? Was it punishment? Because Montrell hadn’t wanted her the night before? Or was she just sick of the lies and lighting the dynamite that would explode them for good?
Only there was no explosion. Montrell’s footsteps paused for a moment, then continued on. As if he didn’t even fucking see her kissing another man.
The frisson of whatever she’d been feeling disappeared from her stomach as he passed without a word.
Montrell knew he wasn’t smiling. No, he was pissed. He wanted to rip the young Coronella away from his wife and punch him in the face.
He wanted something else more. Back when they’d first met, Beatrice had done exactly what she wanted. That hadn’t been what had brought her to his room last night. And that wasn’t what he was seeing in his hallway now. But it was a step closer.
His hand loosened from the fist he had made as he rounded out of sight.
Rapid footsteps chased after him not much later. It wasn’t his wife.
The young man looked more than flustered with his hair wild and with his wide, scared eyes.
“I didn’t touch her. I mean, I wouldn’t have.” The poor Coronella soldier looked appalled. “I mean, she’s your wife. I’d never—”
Montrell patted him on the shoulder, making him break off in confusion. “My wife can do what she wants. I guess I need to talk to you all. Make it clear.” He ran his hand over his own hair. “Shit, it’s a bit messy, but it’ll be fine.” His eyes pinned the soldier. “As long as you’re good to her. No one hurts my wife.”
“What the hell?” Vespa snapped.
Montrell flushed at the anger on her face as she stomped over. His hand lifted to tug at his beard. “It’s fine, Vespa. Don’t get mad.”
“It’s not fucking fine!” she shouted. Her hand pointed down the hallway as she glared at the Coronella soldier. “Get gone.”
He didn’t waste time booking it. Most of the Coronella soldiers were a little scared of Vespa.
Montrell held up his hands. “Now, look—”
“This is a mistake, Montrell,” Vespa said, her face tense as her voice dropped.
“My ego can take it,” he said with a shrug. “If this will help her heal, then—”
“You’re a blind idiot.” Vespa’s hands came up to his shoulders, as if she wanted to shake some sense into him.
“I’m not blind. I know it’ll be awkward all around, but I forced her into this marriage. She’s not ready, not for monogamy and sure as hell not for love.” He blew out a breath, reaching out to tap his friend’s cheek. “It’ll be all right. The Coronellas can be a safe place for her to explore.”
Her hands dropped away as she stepped back. “The soldiers are going to see her as a sex object.”
Montrell frowned. “They sure as fuck won’t. I’ll make things clear. Bea can approach them, but not the other way around.”
Vespa shook her head. “Men think with their dicks if you let them. If she’s slutting around, then—”
“No one calls my wife a slut. Not even you, Vespa.”
She met his hardened gaze in surprise, then flushed with shame.
Montrell couldn’t smile. “You really think I’m led by my dick?”
The red slowly faded from Vespa’s face as her eyes dropped to the ground. “You’re different,” she said, softer than he’d heard her say anything.
“I’m still a man, Vespa.” He snorted. “Even if you don’t normally see it.” Montrell was a hugger. He wanted to wrap her up in one right now, but he knew she’d balk, even though she sometimes needed it. Vespa strove hard to maintain her distance. To see them all as sexless. He’d never thought to interfere with that; she had seemed to need that as much as she did his random affection.
Sometimes he wished he would’ve killed every one of the men who’d been around when he’d killed his father, but there were still loyal soldiers from that time, ones he thought he could trust. He studied Vespa.
“Are there any Coronellas in particular you’re worried about?”
If Vespa gave him names, they’d be dead, no questions asked.
She shook her head, snorting. “I’d’ve killed them by now.”
“Damn straight.” Montrell was able to smile again as he reached out to muss her hair. It never worked quite right now that she twisted her hair into those tight buns.
It made her scowl and swat at him anyway, looking more like herself. He wondered how much of that was a front, and he hated that he even had the thought. Vespa was just Vespa. She had once been a pain-in-the-neck kid who followed him around but saved his ass. Now she was almost an extension of himself, still continuously saving his ass.
“I guess her outfits were going to make the boys look at her anyway,” Vespa said, crossing her arms as she stared down the hall.
Montrell’s gut churned. “Hey, none of that.”
He’d only seen Vespa dressed to kill once. Her heel had been broken off, and the revealing dress had been bloody by the end of that night. Not with her blood, she’d assured him at the time, even though she’d passed out after. It hadn’t only been her blood, she’d meant.
His jaw tightened. “Women are gorgeous as hell, no matter what they wear. Showing it off doesn’t mean they’re asking for it.”
Vespa gave a single nod. “Maybe not.”
“No ‘maybe.’ One of my boys so much as catcalls, I’ll make things clear.” Montrell’s hand was back to curling into a fist. “Respect should be part of the Coronella ways. All types of respect.”
A small smile tilted her lips. She reached up, tugging on his beard lightly. “Never change.” She turned, heading after the young soldier.
Montrell jogged after her. “So, wait, can you help me figure out exactly what to say to the boys?”
A true chuckle rumbled in her chest as she nudged his shoulder. “Just be you.”
He laughed as well, some of his worry fading to the back of his mind. Overthinking things had never worked for him. He just felt dumber for it. He bumped her back slightly harder, because he was big and bulky and couldn’t help it, but like usual, Vespa held firm.