Chapter 57
Chapter
Fifty-Seven
Alana
Istep out of Hugo’s car and press the button at the main gate. Jacob’s voice crackles over the intercom. He can see me on the camera, but I feel the need to announce myself anyway.
“Hi, Jacob, it’s me,” I say.
“A-Alana,” he stammers. “We weren’t expecting you so soon.”
I know that because I persuaded Hugo to assure Alejandro that I was safe and still in New York.
I want to walk through these gates and into this house under my own steam and of my own free will given what I’m about to do.
And I need to get this over with before I change my mind. “But I’m here now. Can you let me in?”
“Of course,” he replies quickly, and the electronic gates open.
I walk through the courtyard and to the front door, which is being held open by Magda. “It’s good to have you back, Alana,” she says with a smile.
I return her smile, happy to see her. I’ve been gone for a little more than a day, but it feels like longer. “Where is he?” I ask.
“Upstairs, in your bedroom.”
I want to run up the stairs, but I hold back, my heart pounding with every step I take.
In the bedroom, he stands with his back to me, looking out the doors leading to the balcony.
He’s dressed in only a pair of black sweatpants, and I take a moment to admire him.
He has a body that looks like it was sculpted by Michelangelo himself.
He must sense me in the room because he turns, shock all over his face. Poor Hugo has put his neck on the line for me, but I will convince Alejandro it was my fault. “Alana!”
“Hi.” I give him an awkward little wave.
“You’re back.”
I nod. “I spoke to my father. He confirmed everything.”
“I know. Paolo told me what happened. Are you okay?”
I nod and unconsciously rub my fingertips over my cheek. “I told him I never want to see him again, and I meant it. I know you’ll be angry with him, but I need you to promise me that you won’t hurt him, Alejandro.”
He stares at the bruise on my cheek for a moment, but then he nods. “Okay. If that’s what you want.”
“It is. He’s not worth it. I’d rather leave him and my mother to rot in the web of deceit they’ve woven around themselves.”
His jaw works back and forth, and he takes a few steps closer. “Is that why you came back here? To plead for your father’s life?”
“No. I came here to tell you that I want out of this ridiculous contract between the two of us.”
His face falls, and my heart almost breaks in two, but this has to be said. I will not be his property.
“My father will never return that three million dollars, but you don’t get to buy me, Alejandro. I was never his to sell. I’m not his property. Not yours either. You don’t get to buy love. Besides, mine is worth a hell of a lot more than that.”
“I know it is, Alana.” He stares at me with what I could swear are tears in his eyes.
I move forward until our bodies are only inches apart and brush his jaw with my fingertips, ignoring the trembling in my knees. “I want out of this contract, but I don’t want out of this marriage.”
His eyes search my face. “What?”
“You can’t buy my love, Alex, but you have earned it.
I want to be your wife, but only if it’s for real.
Not because it’s good for business or to open any doors, but because you can’t bear to wake up one more day without me by your side.
Because the thought of living without me would be like living without air. ”
He gently tucks my hair behind my ear. “Then you already are my wife—for real.”
My heart bursts with happiness. “Good. Because I love you, Alejandro Montoya. I cannot bear to wake up one more day without you by my side, and living without you would be like living without air.”
He pulls me into his arms and seals his mouth over mine with a kiss so intense that it takes my breath away. Then he’s scooping me into his arms and carrying me to the bed. I giggle as he pulls off my skinny jeans and tosses them on the floor.
“You know that I love you more than anything in the world, don’t you, princesa?” he growls.
“Yes, but I think you might have to stop calling me princess now that you know I’m really not one.”
He crawls over me and holds himself up on his forearms. “You’ll always be my princesa, Alana, even when I fuck you like a puta.”
I close my eyes as his words wash over me. I do love his filthy mouth.
“But never forget that in my heart, and to everyone in the outside world, eres mi reina.”
I really do need to learn my husband’s first language. “What does that mean?”
He cups my jaw, his touch reverent. “You are my queen.”
“Hmm. Alana Montoya, Queen of LA. I could get used to that.”
“You’d better.” He kisses me again, making my head spin.
What have I ever done to earn the devotion of a man as incredible as this one?
I might not be his property, but he owns me anyway. Body, heart, and soul.