Chapter 17
“I’m not sure what most brides think on their wedding day…
But choking the groom, who’s been a thorn in your side for months, probably is not one of their thoughts.”
Jimena
Jimena
“It’s a mistake,” I whisper and sigh when the organ music fills the space, coating the energy around me in misery and doom while sending shivers down my spine as fear sinks into every cell in my body. “It’s such a mistake.” The silky wedding gown feels impossibly heavy on my body, and I scrunch my eyes when the tiny voice in my head screams for me to save myself from the inevitable misery and run far, far away while I still can.
The asshole even forced me to wear the stupid dress because he wanted this thing to look as real as possible. I wonder how real it would look if I punched him for everyone, including the press, to see.
Biting on my lower lip, though, I shake my head and take a deep breath before stepping out in the hallway, and my heart pangs painfully in my chest when I see my father waiting for me. “Pápá,” I say and muster up a smile for him.
“Mi princesa!” He comes closer and gently cups my cheeks, his scent enveloping me and urging me to find solace in the protection and love his arms have always provided. Because my dad would slay any dragon for me. Except this time around, I can’t ask him to slay a dragon because the said dragon…is myself. “You look beautiful.”
A single tear falls down my cheek, and he wipes it away with his thumb while darkness settles on his features. His brown eyes flash with worry and fury alike. “If you don’t want this, we can stop it.” His tone turns almost deadly, making me swallow hard while the music only intensifies, the loud piano notes grating on my nerves and sending tremors down my spine as they speak about my unfortunate fate. “All you have to do is tell me.”
It’s so easy, isn’t it?
Just say the words and put an end to this charade that has my misery and chaos written all over it because my upcoming marriage will destroy my soul, even if it’s fake.
How could I not when I despise the groom, and my heart cries out for another?
On instinct, I place my splayed palm on my stomach, rubbing it while warmth travels through me and my memories.
Memories that are painful in their nature, for they pull at the strings of my soul, whispering to me about a man who’s forbidden and dangerous.
He vowed to take me away, everyone else be damned, and I can’t allow it.
Not when everyone’s freedom is on the line. I love them all too much for this. I still can’t believe Arson couldn’t find anything to use against him.
The last thing I expected was for a Price man to be a freaking saint!
So I force a smile, although it probably does little to fool my dad.
Still, as he promised me, he doesn’t interfere in my decisions and hasn’t said anything about my private life all these past months. He even controlled Santiago, who practically cornered me every day, trying to make me spill the beans and confess what Maxwell holds above my head. He finally backed away when I screamed that I never questioned his marriage and choices, so he should respect mine.
“Gracias, Pápá.” I kiss him on the cheek. “I want to do this. Let’s go.” I squeeze the rose bouquet in my hands so hard, the sharp thorns dig into my skin and draw blood. The red droplets fall on the floor, smearing my white satin shoes, and it would have been tragic to have such bad luck on my wedding day.
Except this wedding is already a tragedy, and I welcome all the bad luck. Maybe it will stop the whole farce.
Dad takes out a handkerchief from his pocket and presses it to my finger, clicking his tongue. “You should be careful, princess.” He steps toward the bride’s chambers again, trying to drag me right along with him. “Maybe we should check it first before we—”
“I’m okay.” I put the handkerchief on the nearest bench and give him my bouquet so I can adjust the veil on my hair. “We really have to go.” I catch my reflection in the window, my hollow blue eyes staring back at me while this stunning dress seems almost like a mockery for something that’s supposed to be glorious.
Thunder echoes in the sky, the lightning flashing through the window and brightening up the darkness around us. Dark clouds gather, ready to pour rain on the sidewalk and create a gloomy atmosphere designed to showcase Mother Nature’s mood that matches the one in my soul.
Because even Mother Nature doesn’t approve of my union. Should this be a sign to bolt?
You can run away from me, darling. But I’ll catch you every single time. You belong to me. Never forget it.
“Jimena?” Impatience coats Dad’s tone, and I focus back on him, wishing for the seductive and tempting voice to disappear because it shakes my resolve. All this time, he’s been acting as if this engagement doesn’t exist, but I wonder…maybe deep down, hes hurt. I can’t imagine watching him being engaged to someone else. Just the idea fills me with rage. “If you change your mind at any moment from now on, I’ll support you and be on your side.”
He desperately wishes for me to stall and think clearly. However, his every action pushes me further toward this marriage because he’ll never accept what’s in my heart.
So what choice do I truly have, especially when my brother is in danger?
I shake my head again, refusing to think about the hideous and horrible images playing in my mind, akin to the horror movie that has no end, just endless terror, and there is no reprieve from them.
Sans the marriage to a Price man.
Because that’s what I’m about to do, right?
Marry a Price man.
Except…
I’m marrying the wrong Price.
Dad extends his arm to me, and I hook mine through it while taking the bouquet back in my hands. “Okay.” We start moving toward our destination, my heels clicking on the marble as my eyes drink in the beauty around me. As a little girl, it made me gape in awe at how hauntingly gorgeous it is.
The church has expensive stained glass in the dings, and the ceiling is curved in an oval shape, almost giving a fairytale-like experience, creating a magical atmosphere where everything is possible.
Even atoning for most mortal sins.
If you pretend hard enough, you can almost imagine angels descending from heaven and casting a spell on you, washing away all your worries while stilling everything around you, forever trapping you in this state of mind.
Where your emotions push to the surface, yet you can never allow them to reign and ruin your family because all the choices one makes…inevitably lead to consequences.
And mine are so hideous one might wonder how I’m still surviving with the guilt eating at me.
The golden marble glistens under the candlelight, pointing at the various expensive artwork gathered all over the world by my family, who founded this church and displayed it on the walls, matching the exquisite design.
Various flowers are spread all over the perimeter, roses and orchids mingling together and forming rather weird combinations while their scent floats in the air, making my nose twitch and the bile rise in my throat.
As we stop at the entrance, the organ player blinks at us, straightens up, and starts the music from the very beginning. The people occupying the pews stand, grinning at me, although their eyes tell a different story altogether as they’re filled with resentment and concern bordering on hate.
I blink in surprise since I don’t see any reporters. Maxwell turned this engagement into such a social affair that I expected them all here. However, most of these people are in his close circle and some of our own.
No strangers.
This marriage will be my ruin, breaking the remaining pieces of my soul and coating me in darkness and dirt so strong, nothing and no one will be able to wash it away.
Authentic or fake, it’s going to be a marriage.
Slowly, we start to walk down the aisle while I focus on the groom waiting for me in the distance, looking handsome and dashing in his suit, and even through the veil, I can see satisfaction on his face that my nails itch to scratch.
Despicable, despicable man belonging in hell, yet he is acting like a saint needing God’s blessing for this union he practically blackmailed me into.
Another truth I can’t share for now, but everyone suspects it.
I halt my movements when I feel a flutter in my stomach, making me gasp, and my eyes close because my little one reminds me that he doesn’t agree with my decisions either.
Even though I’m doing all this to protect his father and uncles. Men in this family don’t appreciate any sacrifices.
“Jimena?” Dad whispers, and I look at him, swallowing. “Are you all right?”
“Yes.” We resume our walk, although I notice several people shooting me questioning glances. Some men among them even share a drink, seemingly bored with the whole thing.
Five more steps and we pause in front of Maxwell, who extends his hand to me. “Jimena.” Disgusting shivers rush down my spine as his presence alone makes me nauseous. “I’ll take good care of her, Lucian,” he addresses my father, who tenses beside me, and I have to pull at my arm to finally free myself from his hold. His brown eyes scan the groom from head to toe, and he probably wishes to punch him and wrap me in a protective cocoon so I won’t have to go through with this.
Sometimes I do wonder why my dad allowed me to go this far when the whole family urged me to reconsider. It’s almost as if he is waiting for someone to prove something to him.
If I only knew who and what it was.
“If anything happens to my daughter, I’ll kill you.” Coldness seeps from his words as he utters them and finally steps back. “Remember that, Maxwell.” He sits next to my mom on the pew, who conveys all her love for me with one stare alone. I quickly turn all my attention back to the groom.
I won’t withstand seeing her disappointment yet again.
The tension permeates the air as it grows thick and heavy, serving as an invisible weight on us all because one wrong move may signal our downfall.
Father Paul, who’s wearing a colorful mantle, flips open the Bible but not before his eyes linger on me while devastation etches on his features. He shakes his head, probably hating all this as much as I do.
Marrying anyone but Florian feels wrong.
So, so wrong.
He clears his throat as Maxwell grips my cold fingers, his touch sending repulsion through my system, and I barely hold back the need to snatch my hand away. “Dearly beloved…” His voice becomes muted in my head while the groom continues to grin because we are closer to him finally getting what he wants.
Revenge on his cousin. And I’m the perfect weapon, right?
I feel something and catch my brother’s blue pools, but compared to everyone else…they have no emotions.
Nothing, just endless hollowness while he fixes his stare on me, and I hate it. Why the hell is he so hard to read?
“Any reason that this couple should not be joined in holy matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace.” Father Paul takes a long pause, longer than necessary, judging by how everyone shifts in their seats impatiently, and he sighs heavily, ready to continue the ceremony when everyone remains silent.
What did he expect? A divine intervention?
One would have to be completely insane to interrupt…
I hear heavy footsteps rocking off the walls and alerting us to someone’s presence right before the husky and deep voice straight from my dreams and nightmares alike booms through the space. “I do.” Scorching heat travels through my system, powerful relief slamming into me, and the baby kicks several times as if greeting his father.
“Oh, thank God,” Father Paul mutters, shutting the Bible while I gasp in shock at the sight of the handsome blond man entering the church. His green eyes scan the crowd until they land on me, and internally, something inside me snaps when possessiveness and complete ownership coat them.
His three-piece suit only accentuates his features that are so haunting one might think he isn’t real as his handsomeness can rival those of gods.
Florian is here.
Oh my God.
He came to stop it? Is he insane?
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Maxwell asks, and Florian smirks. “Get out.”
He ignores him and instead says, “The bride is pregnant with my child, cousin. She’s mine.” No one in the crowd blinks an eye, so I guess everyone knows. At least Maxwell kept the whole thing private. It’s still shocking and embarrassing at the same time, though. “Father Paul.” I blink when the priest hastily steps away from the altar, but I have little time to dwell on his behavior as Florian extends his hand to me. “Come here, princess. Now.” His tone leaves no room for argument.
“Don’t you dare, Jimena.” Maxwell snaps his fingers and instantly several men get up from the pews, my heart plummeting when they point a gun at Florian. “You really shouldn’t have come here alone, cousin.”
So all these people are his security guards? He must have expected it, and I want to scream in anger.
What a coward!
“Stop this!” I say, licking my dry lips while chaos erupts around me, and I feel powerless to stop it because these two cannot listen to each other. “Stop it, Maxwell.”
Amusement flashes on Florian’s face, and he asks, boredom coating his voice. “Alone?”
On cue, two men I hadn’t noticed earlier get up as well, removing the safety on their own guns, and I whisper, “No.” Because their presence will start another mess.
Although I should have expected that, right?
It’s either all of them or none of them.
“Come here, Jimena,” Florian repeats just as Maxwell grabs my elbow, holding me still. “You have one second to remove your hand before I cut it for you,” he warns, and Maxwell, to my astonishment, listens to him.
Before anyone can say anything, though, my brother gets up, and I gasp again when he snatches his own gun and points it at the man who once was his best friend.
Until I ruined their friendship.
“Get out, Florian, while you can.”
“I won’t go anywhere without Jimena and my baby, Santiago.”
It always comes back to this, doesn’t it?
He’s a monster hungry for the blood and agony of his victims, and will stop at nothing to get what he wants.
And Maxwell is an obstacle he wishes to eliminate.
Even if it means destroying my family and soul in the process.
Because this isn’t really about the wedding, is it?
It’s about two dynasties going to war because of me. They can’t fathom losing to each other, so they use me as collateral damage in their hatred for one another.
Love doesn’t set us free.
As dramatic as it sounds, it traps us in a cage with no escape.
“You’re outnumbered, Florian,” Maxwell says and laughs. “Although all this can end if you give me what I want.”
Oh.
Did the dark four figure out what he truly wants?
Then it hits me.
Arson must have tattled on me! And that’s why Santiago backed off. They all expected something like this to happen, and to think I was worried over nothing.
The only thing that scares me about this is the fact that Florian’s actions complicate our families’ relationship even further. My father won’t forgive this offense. I couldn’t utter his name in our house without his face darkening.
And apparently, my opinion didn’t matter in my household as they went for each other’s throats and ignored common sense.
“To win a war, you don’t need the quantity. You need quality.” Florian cocks his head to the side. “And leverage.” He grins. “Like finding a certain woman named Eleanor and bringing her to Chicago. Against her will.”
Maxwell tenses, all amusement vanishing from his eyes, and my gaze shoots between them two, watching in fascination as a rather ruthless expression crosses my fake fiancé’s features.
So all this was about a woman?
“If you did something to her—”
Florian clicks his tongue. “You’re not calling the shots anymore, Maxwell. Choose what’s more important. Your woman or your desire to win this.” He looks at me. “Come here, Jimena.”
I step toward him, but then Santiago grabs my hand, stilling my movements. “Don’t you dare, Jimena.”
I’m standing between two men who mean the world to me, and whatever choice I make will hurt the other.
Although this was always the inevitable outcome of my forbidden love.
That’s how it works.
Someone always gets hurt.
This time, though, I refuse to think about anyone else.
I deserve to make a choice that makes me happy and hope for the best rather than play the martyr and suffer.
Before I can do anything though, my brother warns me, “You take one single step, and I’m going to shoot him.” The minute he says it, a hissing sound echoes through the air, making everyone frown as Florian picks me up in his arms and spins me around just as the fog surrounds the place.
Someone fires several bullets as people hastily try to run away from the fake smoke, but Florian navigates through the church toward the back door so swiftly, I don’t even inhale any of it.
“What are you doing, Florian?”
“Kidnapping you, princess.”
Oh my God.
I have no idea where he’s taking me, but I hope it’s far away.
Because this time around, my brother will really kill him.
I guess I’m finally living up to my namesake.
Lucian
Your son just kidnapped my daughter.
Good for him.
That’s all you have to say?
Compared to some people, I love my godchildren, and Jimena looked miserable in all the engagement photos. So yeah. Good for my son. I raised him right. In my dynasty of whores and all.
We can press charges against him.
Wouldn’t be surprised if you did. After all, what else should I expect from a man who punched my kid? Nothing less.
I haven’t punched him. I just raised my hand. Stop acting so dramatic about it.
The intent was there and the only reason you didn’t act on it was because I stopped you.
My godson got my daughter pregnant. Of all the men in the world, I trusted him around her the most. How did you expect me to react? Pat him on the shoulder?
In many ways that didn’t include wanting to punch my kid.
Your kid is thirty-one years old, man. If it was the other way around?
Great question, actually. Imagine if it was the other way around. And I would have raised my hand on your precious son. How would you feel, Lucian?
You don’t have to answer. We both know you’d protect your kid because he did nothing wrong. When two adults have a consensual relationship, no one deserves any punches.
If you had a daughter, you’d understand.
Sincerely, Lucian. Go fuck yourself with that attitude.
Likewise, Jacob.
Five minutes later
In a few months, we’ll have a grandkid.
I’m aware.
Do you think your son will marry my daughter before that?
You’d have to ask him. I don’t make decisions for my kids. They are adults. I know it’s a hard concept to grasp for you.
Ah, I see. If he doesn’t marry her, the kid’s surname will be Cortez. Can’t say I mind.
Like fuck it will be. He’s going to be a Price.
My surname is no less powerful.
And I’m sure Santiago’s kids will appreciate that someday.
Are you implying my daughter is less important than my son?
Are you implying my grandchild has no right to his family’s legacy?
I can’t believe we’ve been friends for more than fifty years. You’re a stubborn asshole, Jacob.
Likewise, Lucian.
Ten minutes later
lt;Father Paulgt; I think you both forgot this is a group chat, and all these messages are deeply disturbing to read.
lt;Jacobgt; You find everything we do deeply disturbing, so your opinion doesn’t count for much.
Hate to agree with the asshole here, but he’s right.
lt;Jacobgt; Call me an asshole again, and you won’t like it.
lt;Father Paulgt; Please stop acting like children. Your kids are in love with each other and are expecting a baby. Isn’t this a great time to mend all the fences and be happy for them? I’m very happy for them. Love should be celebrated.
lt;Atlas Pricegt; For once in my life, I agree with the priest.
lt;Jacobgt; What are you doing in this group chat, Dad?
lt;Atlas Pricegt; Father Paul invited me earlier and I gotta say, I am enjoying every minute of being here. Although your conversation as a whole is pathetic.
Hey, Uncle Atlas?
lt;Atlas Pricegt; Yes?
Remember the expensive painting someone stole from your house? It was your favorite, and you mourned the loss deeply.
lt;Atlas Pricegt; Of course. I still want to catch the fucker who stole it.
lt;Father Paulgt; Let’s try to keep this chat profanity-free.
lt;Atlas Pricegt; No.
lt;Jacobgt; Shut your mouth, Lucian.
Well, it’s your lucky day because Jacob accidentally destroyed it when we all got drunk on his seventeenth birthday.
lt;Jacobgt; And he helped me to cover up the crime, Dad. He came up with the idea to tear it up and bury it somewhere so no one would find it.
Couldn’t handle the heat on your own, could you?
lt;Father Paulgt; We should calm down…
lt;Jacobgt; And Paul was there to pray for our souls as we laughed our asses off. Did I mention we were also high?
lt;Atlas Pricegt; This chat is getting more embarrassing by the second. You’re about to be grandparents, for fuck’s sake. There is only one drama king in this family, and that’s me.
lt;Atlas Pricegt; Now apologize to each other and make up. I have a headache from all the business-related problems both of you are causing each other. Not to mention I can’t even enjoy the upcoming birth of my great-grandson because of you two. I expect a super-exaggerated baby shower with all the hoopla.
Jacob has left the group chat.
Lucian has left the group chat.
lt;Atlas Pricegt; Looks like it’s just an old manwhore and you, Father Paul. Does discussing my latest threesome count as a confession to clean my soul?
Father Paul has left the group chat.
Fifteen minutes later
I have a hundred-year-old scotch in my collection. My father always said I should use it to celebrate the birth of my grandchild. The idea seemed funny at the time because I never wanted a family until I met my beautiful wife.
You’re sharing this with me because?
Let’s drink it together. Tonight.
And we should do that why?
I’m extending an olive branch here, fucking accept it before I get annoyed and take it back.
I think by extending an olive branch, you mean apologizing to me?
Fucking hell, why do you have to be so difficult about this, Jacob? We’ve had our arguments over the years, but you’ve never held a grudge for so long.
Because you matter to my kid, and you hurt him.
He hurt me too.
Doesn’t sound like an apology to me.
Will you apologize to me, then?
For what?
For raising a son who stole my daughter’s heart. It’s an unforgivable sin to any girl dad in the world.
Fine. I’m sorry for raising such a great man that Jimena couldn’t resist him. If you ask me, though, she has excellent taste. Clearly, she takes after her godfather.
I’m sorry for kicking him out and starting a business war with you. I’m sorry for calling your family that has helped ours and stood with us through everything a dynasty of whores. But I’m not sorry for raising my hand to him. He went behind my back instead of coming to me like a man. I would have listened. He owed me this much, Jacob, and we both know it.
Okay.
So scotch and expensive cigars in an hour?
You got it.
I love you, man, and missed you even if I sabotaged your ten-billion-dollar deal the other day.
You did what?