Chapter 7 Cecilia
CECILIA
The heavy metal music stopped, and my heart skipped with it in nervous anticipation.
I was spinning inside, and the truth was, I probably should have poured a bigger glass because I was in no way shape or form ready to confront the only man I’d ever loved, again.
But I wasn’t raised to be weak, I was made- and Cecilia Flores was created to be indestructible, my papá guaranteed it. I downed the rest of the shot in one swallow and made my way across the room where glass lined the entire upper half of the walls in windows surrounding the penthouse.
I turned my back to the room and gazed out at the Cove City skyline admiring it for the first time in my life, letting it calm my nerves.
The apartment was insanely obnoxious, full of marble and gold and it reminded me of everything I once lost. Aside from the white foyer that opened up from the elevator, the entirety of the living area was the blackest marble I had ever seen, full of deep gold veins and speckles.
The white leather couch was so large it could easily sit six or seven with extra space and the concrete coffee table was more of an art statement than for putting drinks on, if I could guess.
I suddenly itched with the need to leave a ring mark on it.
Two matching leather chairs faced opposite of the couch and aside from the wet bar across the room the only other piece of furniture was a desk in the corner.
“Why are you still here?” The deep rumble of his voice sent butterflies swirling into my belly and weakening me at the knees, but I squeezed my empty glass for strength and found the courage to speak without letting my voice waver.
“Because you’re going to help me,” I said, still staring at the open glass in front of me.
“You still haven’t given me one reason why I should help you, Cecilia.”
I finally turned around and let my eyes gaze into the beautiful specimen he had become.
He was at least six-four now, his towering height demanded the attention of the room.
He was only wearing gray suit pants and it was doing terrible things to me that I wasn’t even sure I wanted to fight off.
His hair was still wet from his shower and a heavy exhale escaped me at the realization that the boy I left was now a man.
He was exactly how I’d remembered him, but somehow, he had completely changed. He was polished and yet full of sharp edges, and under his shirt had been hiding a multitude of tattoos that covered him from his wrists all the way up to his neck.
I bit my bottom lip, my gaze trailed down to his V, and when I traveled my way back up, I found his eyes staring straight into mine.
“Call the Diablos and tell Cézar Villalobos to come pick her up,” he said as he began to turn around, and the thought alone caused me to lose my composure.
“NO!” I shouted out.
“What? Big brother got tired of bailing you out?” He snarled at me with a hint of jealousy in his tone.
I wasn’t sure what he hated most, the closeness that Cézar and I shared even though we weren’t really family, or the fact that he abandoned me when shit hit the fan.
“You don’t reach out to someone who specifically tells you to never find them again. Not unless you’re looking for a fight.” I said looking down, my heart breaking all over again at the recollection of the last moments I spent with Cézar.
“Is that all I had to do then?” he said, peeling his lip up like a rabid animal. “Why…should…I…help…you?” he spaced out each word as he began closing in on me.
“Because, you know me,” I said softly.
“Know you?” he scoffed angrily. “I know more about my breakfast than I ever knew about you. I was a stupid little boy and you blinded me with your secrets, your pussy, and your lies until it was convenient for you to leave,” he said angrily as he narrowed the distance between us and I backed myself into the wall, searching for support with my hands to keep my legs from betraying me.
“I didn’t know you then, and I sure as hell don’t know you now Cecilia. The only thing I’m certain I ever knew about you was how to make you come.” Forest green eyes burrowed into me, his face so close to mine that I could smell the intoxicating scent of the Bleu de Chanel he still wore.
Was it for me? Or had he really changed so little?
He slid his hand up my dress, his fingers just lightly traced up the sensitive spot on my thigh before he cupped my pussy.
I widened my eyes at him in surprise from the invasiveness, a million emotions and thoughts colliding and threatening to break me apart.
I expected anger, I expected even maybe violence, but I didn’t have this in the BINGO card for what Ronan would do when he saw me again.
“Let’s see if you can still make my favorite sound?” he whispered into my ears and before I could object, the shock of his fingers sliding against my slickness forced me to grab his biceps to brace myself, my heart thundering in my ears.
“So wet,” he groaned. “Still waiting for me all this time?”
But I didn’t say a word in response.
The truth would betray me, and I was tired of treachery.
I’d been living too many lies for too long.
Two thick fingers impaled me, rubbing inside me at a slow, delicious pace.
He found that magical spot with ease and used his thumb to circle my clit, a flood of arousal threatening to spill down my thighs.
I was acutely aware of the number of people in the room watching us when Mateo’s stare met mine.
“Look at me” Ronan said, and I peered straight into that emerald forest fighting through the heartbreak that began to envelop me.
I didn’t stray my gaze from his. Instead, I narrowed my eyes like a challenge and squeezed his biceps until my nails began to break the skin. It kept the sorrow from escaping if I just focused on the pleasure igniting throughout my body.
He moved against me, like he was trying to prove it to himself that this existed between us once. The whimpers of pleasure were stuck in my throat, I bit my lip until I tasted metal, doing my best to contain the sounds of my climax as he brought me to ruin faster than ever before.
He removed his fingers and brought them to his lips before sucking them clean and said, “Maybe next time then,” before he winked my way.
I took a few seconds to catch my breath and glanced over his shoulder to see Santos and Mateo with slack jaws, unable to pretend that they didn’t watch me get finger fucked until I came.
Embarrassment ravaged through me, and I was suddenly thankful to my ancestors that my skin tone didn’t allow for blushing.
“Get on your knees,” he said as he reached for his belt, and I frowned in response.
“No,” my eyes found Santos , but he was looking at an abstract painting hanging on the wall now. “I’m not your whore.” I stood my ground, my eyes shifting to the half-naked women whimpering in the corner, wondering if that was their purpose here.
“Want to put it to the test?” he whispered in my ear, chuckling darkly, and then turned to Mateo before he said, “Call Dezmond Junior and tell him to get his ass up here.” He hesitated for a second and then spoke again, “Actually, get anyone on the eighth floor and up in here. We’ve got trials to start. ”
He narrowed his eyes at me, “If you want my protection, then you’re gonna have to earn it like them my little flower.” He pointed to the women still huddled in the corner, his words full of venom laced with the promise of revenge.
What were these women going to do for his protection?
What was I going to owe him for mine?
I quickly masked my face to be void of emotion as the room started closing in on me from anxiety.
Coming here was a mistake, I knew it- but it was either the unknown or a body bag, and for now I would take uncertainty over the latter.