Chapter 15
“Real loyalty means staying true to the person even if they are not around.
Otherwise, is there a point to it at all?”
Florian
Florian, eleven years old
“This is so exciting,” Mom says to Dad as they sit opposite me inside the car flying through the iron gates, speedily moving toward my godparents’ house. “I can’t wait to meet their little girl.”
My hold on the bouquet of roses in my hands tightens while I look through the window at the rapidly changing scenery as worry washes over along with nervousness.
Aunt Esme has been a train wreck ever since Santiago got kidnapped, refusing to leave the house and barely eating, so I had to make sure she was okay.
I came to their house every single day and had lunch after school with her, talking to her and allowing her to temporarily forget about her grief.
It hurt my heart to see her devastated like this, but we all hoped for Santiago to come back.
Thinking otherwise…is not an option.
However, when she got pregnant…something changed.
She became happier—well, as happy as she could be under the current circumstances, and their grim home brightened up. She even brought flowers inside and started to paint again, spending more time in the garden.
She still refused to leave her home, and part of me knows she won’t ever do it unless Santiago magically shows up on their doorstep.
“Yes. We have a goddaughter now.” Dad places his splayed palm on Mom’s stomach and gently rubs it. “While they will have a new godson soon.”
“Maybe they’ll be friends like Santiago and Florian.”
“I don’t think Lucian would want my son to be his daughter’s best friend.” I smile because the thought of having a sibling fills me with happiness. The baby should be here in seven months.
“We might have a girl.”
“My love, that’s simply impossible. We don’t produce girls.”
At first, when they announced the upcoming addition to our family, I was nervous and dreaded it. Frederick never loved me, and I didn’t want another sibling who’d hate me.
But then I wondered if Frederick behaved this way because our mother acted horribly and Mom—Calliope—she loves me.
She would never allow us to have a bad bond.
My mood sours when I think about Elizabeth—the bitch from hell as I call her internally, and among my friends, but never around my parents. She’s been harassing us all this time, trying to get money and smearing our reputation left and right.
She’d show up in the most unexpected times and even faked loving me and lied about how Dad kept her from me. She almost kidnapped me once, but Mom got to me in time.
None of the men in my family care about her behavior, but I know Dad worries, and so do I. We don’t want Mom to leave us because of her.
She pays a huge price for loving us, and what if someday she has enough? She’s a rich heiress too, and Nonno always tells her he’ll accept her with open arms when she drops that unworthy husband of hers. I heard him once muttering that if one more journalist calls her an ugly gold digger who scored a lucky lottery, he’s going to order a hit on them.
I do not doubt his words, especially when one of them ended up in the emergency room shortly after.
Every day, she tells me how much she loves me, makes sure we spend time together, and treats my friends as her own kids. She never minds me constantly helping out Octavius and sometimes staying in his greenhouse, as his stepfather is a monster who even refuses to feed him.
He doesn’t want to report him, so they are stuck with him until Octavius turns eighteen and gets access to his inheritance so he can get custody of Estella.
In the meantime, it’s my job to provide him with everything he needs, and our bond has only grown over the years.
But every time I come here, I hurt.
As my best friend…the one who was meant to be by my side my whole life, is gone. He’s gone, and almost no one believes he’s coming back besides his desperate parents, who are using all their resources to find him.
Thank God Dad took over their empire; otherwise, they’d go bankrupt. Uncle Lucian is almost never here, and whenever he comes back, he’s all scarred with several new bullet wounds. Poor Grandpa had to go back to manage our business, and although he hates it, he did it for the Cortez family.
For me, the friendship between Dad and Uncle Lucian will always be something I admire the most and strive to have myself.
“We can name the baby after my dad if it’s a boy.”
“Over my dead body, love. I’m not naming my kid after a man who still calls me an asshole for stealing his daughter whenever he sees me.”
Mom laughs just as the car stops, and I get out, running toward Octavius and Remi who wait for me by the entrance. “Hey, guys!” I shout and jump on them, wrapping my arms around their shoulders, and they huff. “I’ve missed you.”
“We saw each other at school.”
“Forever ago!” I exclaim dramatically, and Remi elbows me, so I let them go. I scan Octavius and exhale in relief internally when I don’t notice any new wounds on him or a pained expression on his face. Then I shift my attention to Remi and don’t find anything on him either.
Although his clothes are smeared in dirt and he has new blisters on his hands, which means he’s been working in the garden to pick up the slack from his alcoholic father. My godparents don’t fire his father to keep Remi around, and even though they told him countless times to focus only on school, he still works in the garden, despising any charity.
They pay all his expenses—clothing, school, tutors, and everything in between—and he feels really bad about it, so he spends all his free time working.
When he can resist my stubborn self, that is, because I always drag him with us whenever we go somewhere.
“Have you seen her?” I ask him, and he shakes his head, so I frown. “Why not?”
He shrugs. “I thought we could do it all together.” The lie slips easily from his lips, but we can read him well.
He felt it was wrong to look at her without Santiago, and we all grow silent.
For the past four years, everything we do seems and feels wrong and like a betrayal to Santiago.
Our friend group is not complete without him. It’s like an important puzzle piece is missing.
Whenever we go out, we still automatically buy four tickets, ice cream, or any other stuff. Whenever teachers ask how many people will work on a new school project, we say four.
To us, he’s around, and we never voice our greatest fear.
That he’s dead, because how are we supposed to exist without him in this world?
There is no us without Santiago, so we pretend he’s around.
My parents got us all a therapist who did group sessions with us, which helped somewhat, but still, we can’t accept a reality without him. Not knowing is the worst thing in the world because it keeps you in limbo, where you don’t move forward.
“Hi, Aunt Calliope.” Octavius and Remi greet and hug my mom before going to my dad. “Hi, Uncle Jacob.”
“Hey, kids. Let’s go inside.”
We rush to the house, where I see a gaping Pablo. “Where is Jimena?”
“Upstairs. Your godparents are in the living room. Do you want to see them?”
“Could you give this to her, please? We’ll go see the baby first.” I practically shove the flowers at him as we race to the second floor and then turn to the right wing where there is a huge room dedicated for Jimena.
Aunt Esme forced us all to participate in decorating it so we are quite sick of the color pink right now.
We enter quietly and zero our gazes in on the white crib right in the middle as the curtains billow in different directions from the wind slipping inside this magical space filled with bright colors.
“I think she’s sleeping,” Remi whispers, and we nod, tiptoeing to the crib.
We all gasp as we look at her.
She’s wearing a blue onesie, her chest rising and falling as she sleeps, pressing her cheek to the pillow, and her dark hair contrasts with the white everything all around her. She’s so tiny and cute, and how do people hold someone so small?
We might break her!
“She’s beautiful,” Octavius whispers as we study her. “I think she looks like Santiago.” That’s when she opens her eyes, and a clear blue meets us, and we gasp again. “She even has blue eyes!” Remi says, and his tone breaks my heart.
She’s truly a female version of Santiago, and if we don’t have him…at least we have part of him with us.
“They can still change with time. We’ll know for sure in a couple of weeks,” I say. “She’s not crying.”
“Let’s introduce ourselves. Hi, princess. We are Octavius, Florian, and Remi.” Octavius points at us with his finger. “We’re your brother’s best friends. He’s not here now, but he’ll come back.”
“And until he comes back, we’ll be there for you and act as your older brothers. You’ll never be alone,” Remi finishes for him, and she makes a fussing sound. “Huh! I think she agrees.”
“Remi is suddenly an expert in all things related to babies. Maybe it’s gas.” I laugh at this, and Remi glares at me. “What would Santiago do? What should we do?” Octavius asks, and once again we grow silent because we have no clue.
We never discussed siblings with him.
Before any of us can reply, we hear Uncle Lucian’s voice. “Boys! Come here. I want to show you something.”
Octavius and Remi jump up, already running to the hallway, and I shake my head. They have this reflex of always doing whatever my godfather says immediately, no questions asked. “Florian!” they call after me.
“I’ll be right there.”
When I’m left alone with Jimena, we stare at one another, and I trace my finger over her cheek as she grumbles something. “I don’t know what Santiago would want me to do.” Especially if he knew about my dark cravings…the voices in my head that makes even the smallest of knives appealing and paint different images in my mind of cutting flesh open and seeing what’s inside.
They never went away, and the need to do something to someone just grows within me, but I control it.
My friends depend on me, and I can’t let them down. It’s my job to be strong and rein in my darkness because Octavius and Remi would crumble under the weight of their own traumas.
I should stay away from Jimena. She’s an angel and will stay that way, as her parents will never allow anyone to ruin her. But isn’t it better for the princess to be guarded by the villain rather than a brave knight who serves a higher mission?
The villain serves no one but those who he chooses to serve.
“I promise you, little Jimena…I’ll be whatever you need. I’ll always protect and love you. As long as I’m alive, no one will hurt you. That’s a promise I make to you because that’s what Santiago would have expected.” I freeze when she catches my finger and smiles. “You agree, princess?” She fusses a little. “He’s not here, but we are. And we will always be on your side.”
Life has a tendency to surprise us in the most unexpected ways.
I gave Jimena my promise, intending to treat her like part of the family because that’s what she is.
I was her friend when she needed a friend, a confidant when she had to share her pain and secrets, and a protector whenever she got in trouble.
Over the years, I acted out different roles in order to be there for her, as her happiness was vitally important to me.
I never acted like a brother, though, because that place belonged to my best friend.
Ironic, isn’t it?
No matter what I say now, it won’t matter, as the world will always see me as someone who corrupted her innocent mind.
That’s okay.
Because we both know she’s the one who corrupted me with her innocent and kind heart, slipping into the cracked pieces of my soul and putting them all back together.
I’m always going to be the villain in this story.
But you know what?
Villains take whatever they want and don’t care how morally wrong it is.
Jimena
“This is a disaster,” I whisper as I walk back inside the house, heading to the living room where Maxwell drinks tea. “What the hell did you do?”
He places the cup away on the table nearby while flashing me a smile that I wish to wipe away with my fist. This guy has been testing my patience ever since I’ve agreed to marry him. “What did I do, darling?”
“You agreed not to use my baby in this charade.”
“Correction. I agreed not to say anything to the press. I’ve made no promises when it comes to your family.” This fucking asshole. I hope Arson finds something on him and helps me out before the stupid wedding.
The Dark Protégés promised me they’ll do their best to figure out his agenda and destroy whatever he has on the dark four. I still shudder thinking about Arson asking me why he couldn’t just burn him down and save us all the hassle.
Needless to say, I requested to speak to Lachlan after that particular comment. It’s one thing to know what they all do and quite another to listen to them describe ways in which they would prefer to kill someone.
“You should be thanking me, darling. You were running out of time, and this way, you can relax and stop trying so desperately to hide your pregnancy.” Before I can say anything, my brother storms inside, followed by Remi, Penelope, and his wife. “Ah, Santiago. I’m sorry you had to find out this way.” He flashes him yet another grin. “But don’t you worry. I’ll be a good father to your future nephew or niece.” He waits a beat and adds, “Probably a nephew, though.”
My jaw about hits the floor when my brother punches him hard in the face, the cracking sound reverberating through the walls, and Maxwell falls on the couch behind him. “Listen here, you fucker. We both know you’re holding something against her, and that’s the only reason she agreed to marry you. We’ll get to that, but in the meantime, let’s make something perfectly clear.” Maxwell’s brow rises as he wipes away the blood from his lips, and somehow seeing this makes me happy. He deserves it for all this mess, and my heart still hurts thinking about Florian and what just happened. I might be angry with him, but…I never imagined the truth to cause this much ruin. “My future nephew already has a father. You have no fucking claim on this baby and never will. If you even try to suggest to someone otherwise, you’ll find out quickly what a huge mistake that is.”
“The loyalty runs deep, it seems. You’re still on his side despite what he did.” Maxwell whistles and gets up, adjusting his suit jacket. “Not sure if it’s foolish or admirable.”
Oh.
My brother may be furious with Florian, but it doesn’t stop him from protecting his best friend and reminding Maxwell that my baby belongs to us and not him in any way.
His words give me hope that maybe there is still a chance to salvage their relationship once all this is over, and he will forgive us.
It’s like with siblings, right? You can be angry with them and rip them a new one, but the minute someone else says shit about them, you’re ready to kick their ass.
“Nothing in my life concerns you, Maxwell. Get the fuck out of here.”
“You’re so rude. I’ll go, but I’m still marrying your sister in two months.”
“We shall see, Maxwell.”
“I love a challenge, Santiago.” He winks at me as he passes. “I’ll call you, darling.” He reaches out to touch my cheek, but Remi grabs his hand and shoves him away, making him laugh. “You guys are a possessive bunch. Ladies.” He bows to us and disappears into the hallway, then we hear the door shut behind him.
Santiago turns around to face me, and my fists clench when I see such fury in his eyes that is aimed at me. In all my life, my brother never looked at me this way, and it hurts.
Because it rubs my still open wounds raw, and the pain becomes almost unbearable.
“I just stood there and did nothing as Dad kicked out our godfather after repeatedly insulting him.” I shudder, remembering the disappointment on Uncle Jacob’s face because we both stayed silent. “He’s a man I respect the most after our dad. The man who’s been there for me even when I acted like a dick, and still loved me. But I stood there in silence and didn’t utter a single fucking word in his defense. Because family loyalty comes above anything else.” He yells the last part, and I jump a little, stepping back from his fury. “How could you do this to me, Jimena?” My throat becomes dry, and my heartbeat speeds up as panic sweeps over me. “How could you put me in a position where I had to choose between my friends, godfather, and family? You couldn’t fall in love with anyone else? Did it have to be my best fucking friend?”
An invisible chain holding all my pain, resentment, and anguish intact inside me snaps at his last question, and I can no longer contain the vile words spilling from my mouth. “How could I do this to you? Are you really asking me this question?” My hollow laughter echoes through the space. “My love for Florian is mine, Santiago, and has nothing to do with you,” I shout and see how concern flashes in his eyes, but I’m past caring about all this. I’m powerless to stop all my pent-up anger from spilling out. “My whole life was about you. I was born into our parents’ grief, forever existing in your shadow in a house that’s a museum of their lost hopes and dreams. Every single wall had your pictures on it, and Mom would stare at them for hours.” I gulp for air as tears fill my eyes. “For the first four years of my life, I had no idea what it was like to have normal parents. Because Mom wouldn’t leave the house as she waited endlessly for you, and Dad was roaming the world trying to find you. You know who took me out and introduced me to a life outside these walls? The Price family.”
“Jimena—”
“We didn’t celebrate Christmas, so Florian would pick me up and bring me to their house, where they showered me with gifts. We couldn’t be happy in this house because you weren’t here, and I understand.” My tears fall down my cheeks now, and I wipe them away. “I do. I can’t imagine losing my baby and not knowing where they are. And God knows you lived through hell, and it’s not your fault, but what about me, Santiago? Do you know what it is like to be the invisible child? To know that no matter what you do or how much you try…your parents don’t see you?”
“My God…” Briseis mutters.
“Finally, you came back, and I thought everything would be different. We’d no longer be sad, and Mom would go out. Except your pain was greater than anyone expected, and you constantly lashed out, so once again, everything was about you. Do you remember my kindergarten graduation?”
He swallows hard while pain fills his eyes, but I can’t focus on that. For once, I want to focus just on my emotions and not guilt. I’m allowed to feel left out despite his tragic past.
“You don’t. You know why? Because you guys had a huge fight so you crushed the car Dad gifted you. They rushed to the police station to handle all this, and once again, the Price family was there for me. Just one of many examples where everything was about your complicated relationship with our parents and their desperate attempt to love you.” I hold back my sob and wait a beat to compose myself. “I may sound selfish, and I’m not saying you weren’t allowed to behave the way you behaved. And I know you love me. I couldn’t wish for a better brother. But Florian…he was there for me when no one else was. He saw me and made me feel important when no one else did. You can twist my love for him and call it sick. You can judge us, and you can even think he groomed me into loving him, although it’s insane to suggest that. Don’t you dare, though, Santiago, say that my love for him has anything to do with you. It’s mine, and you have no right to it. If I have one thing that’s only mine in my life…that’s my love. You can have everything else, but not that.”
Exhaustion overtakes me, my whole body aching from saying all these things that were a long time overdue. I acted like the most understanding, perfect daughter and sister, but that’s no way to live.
For years, I felt guilty because my family truly loved me, so how could I have this much anger at them for making me feel left out. That’s what it’s about, though, right?
I never felt like I was fully part of the family as they all existed in their tragic bubble, and I could never share their grief because they wanted to shield me from it, but it just hurt me more.
Putting everyone’s emotional comfort above yours is not healthy.
How can you heal if you never tell anyone you’re sick?
“You weren’t born into our grief.” I freeze at my mom’s voice and turn around, swallowing hard when I see both of my parents standing at the threshold. Mom’s eyes are filled with tears, while Dad looks shocked. Above anything else…regret is the most prominent emotion on their faces. “We lost each other. After Santiago had been kidnapped, we became strangers locked in our grief. We couldn’t look at one another because it was unbearable, and we each dealt with our pain separately. So I thought for a brief while that maybe we needed a divorce.” I blink in stunned silence and glance at Santiago who has the same reaction. I never, and I do mean never, could associate the word divorce and our parents. “And then one night, we looked at each other and saw that our love was what held us together.” A smile shapes her mouth. “That’s the night that gave us you.” She comes to me and palms my head, wiping away the tears from my cheeks. “We couldn’t be more happier when we found out.”
“Whenever we look at Santiago, we are reminded about our beginnings. The passionate and obsessive, maddening love that consumed us. He represents the fire gliding through our veins for each other,” Dad speaks up, his voice tight yet firm.
“Seriously,” my brother mutters, and I feel him on this one. Little less details, please.
“And when we look at Jimena, we are reminded that our love was stronger than anything else. That no matter what happened or happens, it will stay, and we will always choose each other. Always find a way back to each other. If Santiago is our fire, you’re our strength, Jimena. You’re not an invisible child of this family. At least not to us. Everything you do is important to us, but if you feel like we failed you, then it means we failed you.”
“We knew about the pregnancy,” Mom says, and I gape at her. “I mean, you’re our kid, and you had similar cravings as me. Granted, we didn’t know who the father was. We knew about your crush and that’s why we sent you abroad to boarding school.” Oh. My. God. “We hoped it would cure it, and then you acted all weird, but we didn’t suspect anything. We should have, though.”
“We wanted you to tell us yourself.” Dad joins us and runs his hand over my hair. “Nosotras te queremos mucho, hija.”
“But we will talk more about this. Your feelings matter, and we’re sorry if you felt that somehow your brother was more loved or more important. Each one of you has a special place in our hearts.” Mom kisses me on the forehead.
We are a long way from me accepting my pleasing nature and always wanting to keep the peace going, but maybe that’s my road to healing. Santiago finally made peace with the past as well when he got married, so yeah. I might have seen everything through a different prism, not that my interpretations or feelings aren’t valid. They are, but it doesn’t mean it’s the truth.
The time has come to be freely myself among my family and unload all my baggage. Only then can they see the authentic me.
However, it doesn’t change the night’s disaster. “I love you too, but Florian…”
“No.” Dad’s voice hardens. “I will treat the Price men the way I see fit, and none of you can change my mind.” I wince at the harshness in his tone. “Get some rest.”
“You don’t have questions about Maxwell?”
“No. I won’t dictate who you can or can’t marry. It’s your decision. Just know that marriage usually means commitment. Be ready for yours.” Dad hugs me close, rocking me in his arms. “This family is not complete without you, princess. Never doubt it.” I sigh. “Now let’s all get some rest.” This is far from over, but knowing my parents, they need the night to think over everything they’ve heard before they come up with some kind of solution.
He squeezes me in his arms and steps back, grabbing Mom, who says, “Santiago?” I look over my shoulder to see him standing there.
“I’d like to have a moment alone with Jimena, please.”
I tense, but everyone complies, clearing the room so swiftly I barely have time to blink. “Santiago, what I said doesn’t mean—”
“Let’s go on a trip tomorrow.” I still at this, blinking rapidly. “To the mountains. Just the two of us.”
We’ve never been alone anywhere. I’m not sure how I’m supposed to react to that, so I just say, “Huh?”
“I want to tell you about my past. What happened, why it happened, and how it affected my behavior.”
Oh God.
His past was always locked away and never discussed, at least not with me. I hate that he feels that he has to share it in order for me to feel less hurt. “Santiago, you don’t have to, okay? I just have my own insecurities and hurts. It doesn’t mean I judge you or blame you in any way.”
He smiles, although his eyes are void of any humor. “In my desire to protect you from this, I drove a wedge between us. I love you very much, hermanita.”
My brother rarely says these words out loud. “I know. I love you too. And if you truly want to share, I’d love to listen.”
“You will tell me everything about yourself. And I do mean everything.”
“I think…that will be very strange for both of us.”
It sounds as if we’ve been shitty siblings all these years, which isn’t the case. But each one of us hid something from the other, so there was always this invisible wall between us.
The time has come to crush it.
“It’s only fitting. We’ll mend what got broken because of the person who kidnapped me.” He pulls me to him, and his strong arms capture me in a firm hug that speaks volumes about his internal turmoil. My brother isn’t a hugger and barely tolerates touches. He makes an exception only for his wife. “We’ll be okay. So don’t you worry.” He pats my stomach. “And don’t stress the little one anymore.” He grins, and this time, it’s genuine. “I’m going to be an uncle soon. That’s…something.”
“On both sides,” I whisper because he’d be an uncle to Florian’s children regardless.
His warmth is gone, and he straightens. “Just on one side, Jimena. I’m going to pick you up tomorrow at noon. Get some sleep and be ready. Wear something comfortable and warm.” He kisses me on the cheek and starts walking toward the hallway, but I stop him.
“Santiago…he didn’t seduce me. I was the one chasing him, not the other way around. Lying to you killed him, but he couldn’t say anything. There are multiple reasons.” We all saw him throw away his ring. “You don’t have to give up the Four Dark Horsemen for me. They lied because I wasn’t ready to tell anyone.”
“If he proposed, would you have been ready?” My silence speaks volumes. “That’s what I thought.”
“He’s your oldest friend and he’s been there for us all. Please, Santiago—”
“Do you really love him? Like Cortez-style love him?”
Once someone has our hearts…they have it forever.
“I do.”
An unreadable expression settles on his features. “I’m sorry, Jimena. I’ll never be able to forgive him. The sooner you accept that, the less hurt you’ll be in the future.” He walks away, leaving me standing there as my heart breaks once again.
And at this moment, I want and need only one person.
Florian.
Florian
“Here you go, buddy.” Dropping the steak hanging off the fork in Zeus’s bowl, I watch him flash me his teeth before diving into his food, barely sparing me a second glance. “You’re really hungry.” He huffs, munching on the steak, but I don’t blame him.
I usually come earlier and feed him, but tonight we had a sudden change of plans.
In the form of my father ripping me a new one when he called me and ordered me to come to the family mansion.
I wince as I discard the fork and reach for the whiskey bottle, guzzling the burning liquid, the conversation with my father playing on my mind over and over again.
“Sit down.” He points at the couch in his office where Grandpa is seething, glaring at me as he plays with his rings. “Now, Florian.”
“I’d rather stand.”
Grandpa huffs, “Smart choice. You come near me, and I’m going to cuff your ears.” He slaps his hand on the couch. “I’ve never been this humiliated.” He yells the last part as Dad pours himself a drink. “Lucian’s father was my best friend. Best friend! And his kid just kicked me out of their family home.” Another huff followed by him scanning me from head to toe. “You’ve made a mess, grandson.” A beat passes. “However, I approve of your choice.” A smile finally cracks across his face, deepening his wrinkles. “Couldn’t wish for a better granddaughter. Juan would have approved.” He looks up at the ceiling. “Did you hear that, my friend? Our grandchildren are going to have a baby together.” He winks. “Don’t worry. He was raised by his father, so he is not a cheater.”
I’d find the whole exchange hilarious if it wasn’t for the tension polluting the air.
“I’m glad you’re happy.” My father’s curt reply makes Grandpa frown. “Because Lucian will turn our lives into hell.” His splayed palm stops whatever Grandpa wants to say. “I know him better than anyone, and I can’t say I blame him.” He shifts his focus on me, and I feel like the six-year-old who constantly pulled some shit that drove him insane once again. “Do you have a reasonable explanation for me, son?”
Ah, hell.
I forgot about my dad’s character. He would never allow anyone else to hurt me, but in the privacy of our family home?
He won’t hesitate to tell me exactly what he thinks, and with that question alone, he lets me know he absolutely doesn’t approve of my behavior. In fact, he’s as angry as Uncle Lucian.
“I do.”
“Care to share it with us?”
“Not really.”
Fury crosses his face as he takes a huge sip from his glass and places it on the table with a loud thud as it rattles soundly. Grandpa whistles under his breath.
Let’s just say no one likes to get on Dad’s bad side. Uncle Lucian might be ruthless and vicious, but my dad?
He can be very cruel if he wants to. How else would he have pulled a mafia princess?
“Not really? Did you hear him, Dad? Not really.” Grandpa shakes his head at me, doing the cutting motion over his neck. “When your decisions affect the family, you have to give appropriate answers.” He exhales a heavy breath. “Do you understand that this is going to get bloody? My goddaughter is pregnant with my grandson, but she plans to marry my nephew. You’re doing nothing to explain yourself or rectify the situation. ‘Not really’ is not good enough of an answer, Florian.” Although he keeps his voice even, anger drips from his every word, and I’m starting to think I’m going to get my ass kicked again tonight.
“She won’t marry him, Dad. I won’t allow it, and once I do what needs to be done, everything is going to be okay.”
“Nothing is going to be okay now, son. You think you can get Jimena pregnant without consequences? Have you met her family?”
“All right, Dad.” I straighten up, my voice becoming harsher than appropriate, considering who I’m talking to. “Enough. I’m not a kid.”
“Ah, grandson. Do you want to die or something?” Grandpa mutters, reaching for Dad’s glass and quickly finishing it as Dad moves toward me. I half expect him to punch me in the face for all the disrespect. “Jacob, let me remind you that we don’t believe in violence in this family.”
Everything inside me tenses, so I freeze in surprise when my dad hugs me, and instant relief washes over me. No matter how old you are…you don’t want your parents to kick your ass, and truth be told…can someone be on my fucking side for once? “I love you, son.”
“I love you too, Dad.”
He squeezes me tighter in his hold. “I raised a good man, so if you do something, you have your reasons. I’ll trust your judgment and will be on your side despite all the losses we will face. Nothing is more important to me than my family.”
Up until this moment I didn’t know how much I needed to hear these words from him. When I chose Jimena as mine, I knew her family would take it the hardest. It was inevitable.
But my family…having my back is one thing. But to truly accept and love me and choosing me because of that is quite another.
Losing my father’s respect would have been harder than Uncle Lucian’s. Despite my godfather having a special place in my life, heart, and soul…no one can top Dad for me.
He leans back and lightly slaps me on the cheek, making me laugh. “But if you ever use that tone with me again, I’ll have to show you that your grandpa is not the only one who can whoop someone’s ass.”
My phone vibrates in my pocket, snapping me out of my thoughts, and I take it out, smirking at the message flashing on the display. It’s from our group chat, and Santiago hasn’t left yet. We hate all this bullshit, but we needed one in order to update each other on the club and some other major things. We rarely use it because, who has the time?
lt;Remigt; Just a reminder. We all own a club together. We have equal shares in it. What are we going to do about it?
lt;Octaviusgt; We can’t throw it away in the garden, that’s for sure.
lt;Remigt; I expected a more elaborate answer.
lt;Octaviusgt; Why bother with elaborate answers if we don’t decide anything?
lt;Remigt; Octavius.
lt;Octaviusgt; Remi.
lt;Remigt; Someone might want to leave the club.
lt;Octaviusgt; Then that someone needs to sell his shares to us.
We both know he is not going to sell them to us. And we have a rule…
lt;Octaviusgt; We all own equal shares, or the club doesn’t exist.
lt;Octaviusgt; What is it going to be, Santiago?
lt;Remigt; He won’t sell his share to anyone. Right?
Santiago has left the group chat.
lt;Remigt; Look what you did. He left. It’s your fault.
lt;Octaviusgt; First he didn’t say shit which is a win in itself. And second fuck you. You pointed a gun at me tonight.
lt;Remigt; Because you pointed a gun at my best friend!
lt;Octaviusgt; Who pointed one at mine.
This is getting us nowhere.
lt;Remigt; Both of you can go to hell. I’m doing my best to fix this shit before he does more damage and all you do is just throw some smart-ass comments that add fuel to the fire.
Are you going to leave the group chat too?
lt;Octaviusgt; After the gun incident nothing surprises me anymore.
lt;Remigt; And by the way I found his ring and will keep it with me for the time being. He’ll wear it again.
lt;Octaviusgt; We love your optimism, Remi.
Ah, your sentimentality is adorable.
lt;Octaviusgt; Marriage made him soft.
Poor Penelope then.
lt;Remigt; Fuck both of you.
Remi has left the group chat.
I’m about to write something else to Octavius when Zeus growls, and I hear the terrace door open, so I spin around only to still when I see Jimena standing on the other side.
“Hi,” she whispers, hooking a strand of hair behind her ears, looking more beautiful than ever despite her puffy-from-tears eyes and her tan skin practically glows under the moonlight steaming from behind her. “Zeus,” she calls my wolf, who abandons his steak and strolls to her, nuzzling his muzzle into her hip, making her laugh. “Hey there.” He purrs at her touch as she starts to pet him, running her fingers through his thick fur, and he eats up all the attention.
She was one of the first people to meet my wolf years ago, and he instantly liked her. He hogged all her attention and then circled around her, growling at anyone who came near her. Despite rarely seeing him, Jimena adores him, and clearly, the feeling is mutual.
Is it possible to be jealous of your own wolf? Because right now, I’d trade places with him, and by the triumphant look he sends my way, he knows it too.
My wolf is nothing if not competitive.
He rolls onto his back—onto his fucking back, seriously—and she pets his belly. “You missed me.” He barks at this, and I roll my eyes. At this point, he’ll be acting like a lap dog in no time. “I missed you too. Brought you something.” Only then do I notice a paper bag in her hand, and she fishes a bone from it. “Here.” He latches on it right away, rolling back on his paws and munching on it, forgetting all about her. “I think you like it.” She laughs again and gets up, our stares clashing as a raspy breath slips past her lips.
We stare at one another for what seems like forever, and I drop the phone away before putting my glass on the table.
Without uttering a single word, I open my arms wide, and she runs to me, wrapping her hands around my neck.
Holding her tight, I gently lift her up, and her long legs circle my waist. I take a deep breath, the beat inside me calming in her presence as her scent envelops me. “Hi, princess,” I whisper into her neck, rubbing my stubble over her skin, and a tremor rushes through her.
My body instantly grows hard in her presence; weeks without my woman is torture, and somehow I have no idea how I’ve survived years without her.
“I told them.”
“Told them what?”
“About my pain.”
I gently rock us from side to side while thunder bellows outside and Zeus freezes, his ears twitching before resuming his assault on the treat. When another boom echoes, though, he huffs, picks up his treat and strolls outside, clearly preferring to experience Mother Nature’s mood head-on.
“I imagine it was hard for them to hear.”
“I think they are all upset. They love me, you know.”
I know, it’s something I’ve tried to explain to her for years that she was never a second-rate citizen in her family and they adore her.
Jimena…
She’s the only one who wasn’t touched by the darkness. Their light and happiness, their hope and beauty, their reason to move on and hold on.
They say being the oldest sibling is a hard job because you always have to care about the well-being of others while no one gives a shit about yours.
Responsible. Trustworthy. Understanding.
Some of the adjectives that follow the oldest if they treat their siblings and parents right.
However, rarely anyone speaks about the pain the youngest siblings experience because according to everyone, they have it the easiest.
They grow up with more experienced parents who have softened with age and allow their child more freedom and have more time to love them.
Often, though, in the quest to protect the youngest, they shut them out of important decisions and fail to see how their actions cause pain and suffering as the younger ones struggle to find their place in the family dynamic.
Santiago hates me right now because he loves Jimena very much, and his greatest fear has always been one thing.
Anyone hurting his little sister and crushing her spirit beyond repair, something that had been done to him.
Jimena has no idea how much he actually controlled and tracked her life in Europe, she couldn’t sneeze without him knowing and whenever there was just a hint of trouble…he’d go ballistic and deal with it.
Before his marriage to Briseis I think Jimena was his saving grace, the remaining piece of his soul that got to live a life without horrendous monsters destroying it.
He wished for her to be happy in a way he could never be.
In a way none of us can be since our pasts shaped us into vicious creatures hungry for blood.
And I touched her. Tainted her. Forever drowned her in our world.
He could have forgiven my lies…he could have accepted my love for her…but this?
I’m afraid he’ll never forgive me for this.
“Yes. We all love you very much.” She sighs some more and leans back, pain flashing in her eyes as she touches my bruised face. Although it aches like hell, her caress soothes it a little and serves as in invisible balm over her brother’s rage.
He didn’t hold back and I would have never respected him if he did.
I don’t get a free pass just because I’m one of his best friends.
Or rather, used to be.
The jury is still out on that particular fact.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispers, tears sliding down her cheeks, and her fingers roam over my face gently. “So sorry.”
“It’s all right.” She rests her forehead against mine. “It doesn’t really hurt. I’m glad it happened.”
“You’re glad my brother beat you up?”
“At least now everyone knows. It was always inevitable.” Another long sigh. “You’re not marrying my cousin.” This comes out harsher than I intended, and she stills in my arms. “I don’t give a fuck what he’s holding against you. You’re mine.”
“Florian—”
“Tonight was supposed to be about us. I planned to announce to the whole family our secret and face the consequences. Instead you walked in with my fucking cousin, the son of the man who had an affair with my mother, and you let him touch you.” My tone drops a few octaves as my hand wraps around her neck while goose bumps break on her skin and the breath hitches in her throat, her heartbeat speeding up. “He acted like he had a right to touch you when he doesn’t. You’re mine.” Somehow I held back all the possessiveness and jealousy that my cousin inspired, but the emotions come to the surface once again in a powerful wave that washes away sanity and leaves only madness that has one wish. To own her and remind her that only one man has a right to call her his.
And that’s fucking me.
“Am I yours?” She lifts her chin, a stubborn expression crossing her face despite her body pressing tighter against mine and a gasp slipping past her lips when my hard-on digs into her stomach, a red flush covering her cheeks.
“Whose do you think you are, Jimena?”
She places her hands on my chest, gliding them up my scars, and I hiss when her nails cut into my skin. “Myself. Maybe it’s a hard concept to grasp, darling, but I belong to myself.”
I barely manage to hold back my laughter, considering she sought me out in the middle of the night and jumped right into my arms because that’s where she belongs. My woman has a hard time grasping the concept, though. “Is that so?”
“Yes.”
Oh, she shouldn’t have said that.
Jimena
I regret my words the minute they slip past my lips because instantly, the energy around me changes, growing tense with anticipation and a hunting presence that sends shivers down my spine and creates unfamiliar sensations in the pit of my stomach.
Florian’s emerald eyes darken and for the first time I feel like prey who caught the attention of its predator.
And what a stupid thing it was to say—belong to myself, please.
A grin shapes his mouth and I blink in surprise when his hand glides up my throat toward my hair and he threads his fingers through my dark locks. He yanks on it a little and I arch, exposing my flesh to his wandering gaze, and he places his lips to my pulse point, tracing his tongue over it. “For a woman who belongs to herself, your heart is beating awfully fast,” he murmurs, skimming his lips to my shoulder and sucking at the skin there hard, leaving a hickey that will be impossible to cover up.
My raspy voice gives away the desire spreading in my veins, shooting arrows strait to my core that dampens at the contact and another gasp leaves me when he tightens his arm, hiking me higher, and his hard-on brushes over me, just hinting at what he’s capable of giving me. And a hint is enough to tempt me. “I’m just nervous. I’m locked in a house with a man who thinks he has rights over me.”
I really need to shut up, but provoking him brings me pleasure. Maybe because I’ve been going insane from lust these past few months, remembering our passionate encounters and heated kisses Florian stole whenever he caught me alone.
I stayed strong, though, and never let him seduce me but the ban I’ve put on our relationship is unbearable.
I wake up in the middle of the night all sweaty and needy for him and it doesn’t help that the pregnancy only added to my libido, reaching epic proportions and demanding for my man to come and fix the desire clawing at me from the inside out.
He chuckles, peppering me with small kisses all over my collarbone and neck before shifting lower and biting on the mounds of my breasts, and I moan as yearning zips through me, the little touches causing fireworks to erupt within me. “Ah, sensitive, aren’t they? I’ve read an interesting book lately. Your body needs me, princess. Are you done denying us both?”
“Florian, this is a mistake.” Even though my entire being cries out to him, I’m engaged to another man. “We should stop.” I shouldn’t have come here, I can’t resist him on most days let alone when we are left alone without anyone breathing down our backs.
My engagement to Maxwell is fake and I owe him no loyalties, but who knows if this psycho is spying on me or not. I don’t want him to take offense in something and put the dark four in danger.
“Because you’re engaged?” he asks calmly, too calmly, but I have no time to focus on that as he moves his mouth upward until we share a breath and our lips brush against each other’s as longing rushes through me, my stomach dipping at the lust shining in his eyes that promises me lots of things.
Mercy and listening to me, though?
Are not one of them.
“Yes. I’m engaged to someone else.” Even saying these horrible words feels wrong, as if I’m betraying him, and I hate Maxwell.
I should never wear anyone’s ring but Florian’s.
“Jimena?”
“Yes?”
“Your fake engagement means fucking nothing to me.” That’s all the warning I get before he slams his mouth on mine, trapping us both in a deep, sensual kiss designed to drive me insane and remind me that there might be countless men out there…but none of them will ever measure up to my man.
His tongue explores inside my mouth, marking his territory and staking his claim all over it as if asserting it anew so no one else would ever dare to touch me or think they have a chance with me. A kiss that’s punishing in its nature and serves as a warning to everyone else, but the experienced and confident strokes create a cocoon around me, pulling me in a world where only our passion exists and all the voices in my head go quiet.
All sans the one screaming at me to get as close as possible to my man so he can finally take care of me and all these wicked desires he’s awakened.
Tearing my mouth away, I breathe air into my lungs as we stare at one another and capture his mouth again, gasping when he tightens his hold on me and starts to move somewhere, every movement pushing his hard-on into my clit. Hot flushes slide through me, my core dampening, and I hate our clothes for preventing us from truly touching each other.
Even them separating us is unacceptable.
His lips drop to my neck, traveling to my shoulder, and the strap of my dress skates down my arm, my nipples poking out from the cloth, and a moan escapes me because they’ve been extremely sensitive lately, and wearing lingerie is a chore, so I gave up. They are probably sticking out through the dress, showing him how much he arouses me, and my whole being begs for him to bring me pleasure where eternal bliss can consume me.
“Florian. I changed my mind,” I pant as he bites on my shoulder, his teeth sinking into my skin and making me jerk in his arms. “Please do something.” My pleas fall on deaf ears, though, as he locks us in a deep and hot kiss once again, our tongues entwining and mimicking the art of lovemaking that pours gasoline in the fire growing in the pit of my stomach, and hugging him closer, I shift my hips a little, tapping my clit against his thick bulge, and almost see stars.
If he can just…
My ass touches a flat surface and I gulp in surprise when he steps back a little, both of us panting, and I finally look around.
He placed me on the dining table as the dim light mixing with moonlight streaming through the huge window transforms the energy around us into something sinister and forbidden, urging us to indulge in all our vices and promising rewards that my body will gladly accept. Thunder beams outside, followed by lightning gracing the sky, and the rain intensifies, the storm matching the complete chaos in my soul that aches for one thing only.
Florian.
My gaze slides over his majestic and perfect form, his bare chest with tan skin and carved six-pack along with mouthwatering, wide shoulders.
His eyes shimmer in the light, the possessive glint in them unmistakable, but something else flickers in them as well.
Viciousness and determination, and my core spasms just imaging what his punishment for denying his claim on me entails.
My man reminds me of an ancient warrior and the green monster rears its head inside me, the idea of any other woman appreciating him like this awakens my own possessiveness that shocks me and yet it won’t be denied.
Putting my hands behind me to keep myself balanced on the table, I hold his eyes when I say, “You’re mine.” I think I’m starting to understand why all the men in my family like to repeat this phrase so much.
Heat flares in his emerald orbs. He grabs my thighs, moving them apart and making room for himself. He crumples the hem of my dress in his hand and starts to slide it upward while lust drums between us, my body shivering at the contact. “You are right. I am yours.” The sense of pressure disappears from my chest and an odd sense of joy replaces it at hearing him say that, which is so ridiculous and unhealthy. This is not how a sane relationship should be like. “Do you want me to prove it to you, princess?” His hands reach my hips and we both glance down at my sodden lacy panties stuck to my core, and my cheeks heat up. “Ah, look at you all wet and needy for your man.” I expect him to touch me there but instead, his hand drifts around my hip and skims up my back, settling on the zipper. “What does my pussy need, Jimena?” He starts to slowly pull at the zipper and the dress slides down. “My fingers probing it deep?” The air hitches in my throat at his barely audible hushed whisper. “Or maybe my tongue licking it clean until nothing but me remains in this pretty head of yours?” He pulls on the dress hard and it falls down my waist, exposing my breasts to him, and a smile curves his mouth when a whimper slips past my lips. “Or should I forget all the foreplay and just fuck you hard on this table until your throat becomes hoarse?” He cups my breasts, squeezing them in his hands, and I moan when his thumbs brush over my sensitive nipples. “Paint this pussy with my cum so you have no doubts about who owns it.” I lean back farther as he lifts my breast to his mouth and sucks on the tight peak, my fingers curling around the edge of the wood as fire slides down my veins while he flicks his tongue back and forth, playing with my nipple but not really giving it any relief.
“Florian, please.” I’m not sure if I’m begging him to stop this torture or prolong it, but he sucks on it hard to the point of pain, only for my sob to echo in the room when he delivers one last lick and shifts to the other one, repeating his actions. Fisting his hair and pressing him to me, I try to lock my legs around him, but his other hand quickly falls to my hip, keeping me firmly in place, and my starved-for-his-attention body goes insane with need.
My fantasies have been enough of a foreplay, my core desperately demands for him to enter me and end this all-consuming fire burning everything in its wake.
“Please what, princess?” he asks, leaving small kisses on my breasts before trapping my other nipple with his teeth, the light sting shooting desire straight to my core. “Voice your wish.”
“I want your cock.” My palm slides down between us and I cup his thick bulge, rubbing up over his length, and his grip on my hip becomes almost painful. I gather all the courage and add, despite shyness clogging my throat, “Fuck me hard please, Florian.”
He stills at this and straightens up, his muscles growing rigid against me, and he kisses me again, devouring my mouth while he covers my core, the heel of his palm pressing on my clit as he drags his fingers through my folds, pushing my panties harsher into me and drenching them completely. “You’ve missed me, princess?” I nod. “I’m going to fuck you.” I sigh in relief, only to groan when he gently pushes me until I’m lying flat on my back, seeing our shadows on the ceiling and my lust only increases at the sight of it. “First, though, I’m going to taste you. You’ve denied me long enough. I’m starved, love.”
He takes off my heels, kissing the soles of my feet, and the touch is so soft compared to anything else, it makes me smile. He puts them on the edge of the table and opens my legs wide, hooking his thumbs in my panties and ripping them off, his hot breath fanning my core. Fisting the skirt of my dress, I arch my back and beg, “Please.”
He scrapes the inside of my thighs with his teeth before sucking on the skin and brushing his light stubble over my sensitive flesh. “There is nothing hotter than seeing you burning for me.” His palms slide under my ass and clench hard as he places his mouth on me, invading me with his tongue, and I sob, twisting my fingers in his hair while electric volts charge me and dump me straight into the fire of his creation.
He lifts my hips up, probing me deep as if he’s reminding me about the pleasure he’s capable of giving me, all the while ravishing me in the most sweetest and hottest way.
He flicks his tongue through my folds before licking them and nibbling on my clit, and my hips shoot up only for him to keep me steady in his grip as scorching heat hits me in waves. Combined with the cold air nipping at my nipples, I’m afraid I might burst at any moment.
Coating my clit in his saliva, he skims his lips back down and roams his tongue through me as I sob and writhe underneath him.
I hike my leg up, putting it on his back, and tug at his hair harder, which results in a groan that sends vibration all over me, adding to the tickling sensations spreading through me in spades. Matching his maddening rhythm, I start to raise my hips, grinding on his tongue, and the friction increases the tension inside me, my skin growing taut. Lacing my hands in his hair, I ride his tongue and the lust threatens to break me apart in his arms, but what a sweet thing it would be.
“No, no, no.” I whimper when he slowly slips out his tongue and licks me up again, his hand skimming to my core, and he pinches my lips right before he bites on them, and I cry out, “I can’t.” He sucks and licks some more while his thumb presses on my clit, and the double dose of sensations push me so hard to the edge, the pleasure becomes almost within my reach. “Not like this, Florian,” I beg, my thighs clamps around his head while he laps at me. Despite knowing he can easily get me off like this for hours, I want him inside me after such a long separation and rather disastrous evening. “Please.”
Tickling sensations rush through me once more when he kisses my center and rubs his chin on my navel, smearing my juices all over me, only to make me moan when he straightens up, all his handsome male glory on display for me, the wild look in his eyes making my need torturous. “Florian.”
He unhooks his belt with a loud whoosh and drops it on the floor before he unzips his pants, the sound mixing with the thunder echoing outside, and I whimper at the sight of his hard length spraining free, my core squeezing just remembering having it inside me.
On instinct, I lick my lips when I see the precum leaking from the tip, and he hisses through his teeth, “Ah, Princes. You had me in your mouth once and you’re already begging for another taste.” He strokes his cock from base to tip and pulls me upward with his free hand as he nestles between my legs, and my arms wrap around his neck. His hot palm skims from my waist to my collarbone. “I promise you, later on tonight I’ll come down this pretty throat and let you play and explore for as long as you want.”
“Oh God,” I whisper, the images flashing in my head intensifying the lust consuming me because I so want to do that.
Try everything with him and use his body as the canvas and outlet for all my carnal fantasies—because he’s mine.
His hands fall to my hips, drifting up and down my thighs, and each stroke sends tremors through me as he circles around my opening, the tip of his cock grazing my core but not entering inside. “Jimena, mírame.” I look at him. “Eres mia.” He swallows my gasp at him calling me his with a hot kiss, his tongue roaming inside my mouth and hammering his point across, as the inferno erupts all around me. He finishes it too quickly and my protesting whimper rocks between us while his voice drops a few octaves, becoming more hoarse, and we both pant heavily. “Tell me you’re mine.”
Who else’s would I be?
Tangling my fingers in his hair, I caress his face and smile despite the need urging me to just push my hips forward and have him finally inside me. Palming his head, I whisper right before kissing him, “Soy tuyo.”
We both groan when he finally drives into me, the thrust so hard and deep it shifts me on the table and makes me hold on to him tighter.
Our mouths stay locked, our tongues dueling against each other’s as he stays still inside me, both of us marveling at finally being together again.
Staying away from him was torture, and right in this moment as we entwine in a kiss that’s hot yet gentle, a sense of hopelessness fills me.
Compared to the other dark four brides, I knew about his nature all along, but somehow our love story ended up being the most forbidden of all.
Our families, Death, Maxwell…just how many obstacles does a love like ours need to have? Why couldn’t it be easy like the rest of the dark four’s relationships?
I throw my head back, gulping for air as he trails his lips to the underside of my chin and nips on it softly while swaying his hips back and thrusting into me again. “I live for you.” My whole body jolts at his admission whispered over my throat, and my thighs clamp around him, my nails digging into his back earning me a growl. “I love you, princess.” Warmth envelops me as he slowly pulls back and slams into me again, his mouth sucking on my shoulder while his fingers grip my hips so hard, I know he’ll leave new marks for me to admire. “You’re mine.” Another hard thrust that provokes heat to zip down my spine while the tension in my body grows, his cock stretching me so wide, and yet it seems not enough to reach the pleasure hovering in the distance. “My woman.” His lips drift to my neck, where he places a soft kiss on my pulse point as he pushes back and drives into me again, harder and deeper than before, and I cry out. “The mother of my child.” A shivers rushes through me at the possessiveness ringing in his tone while he enters me again, gradually speeding up his pace. He presses his lips against my ear, whispering, “No one exists for me but you.”
“I love you too,” I rasp as thousands of tingles send warmth all over me as his thrusts turn rougher, his cock pushing harder and harder until I can’t take it anymore and my core clenches around him.
He finds my mouth again, imprisoning us in a kiss once again as he continues to slam into me several more times, and I welcome his groan into my throat when he spills inside me, making the need flare in me all over again.
We tear away from each other and I hug him close, our breaths filling the air along with the thunder still bellowing outside, and right in this moment I’m where I truly belong.
If only I could stay here forever.