The Hustle (Irreparable 4)

Tug saw the tattoo I got to remind me of what truly being loved feels like. Getting the tattoo was the last time I defied Eduardo, but it was worth the two days locked away from Javier and a beating I’ll never forget.

I took a risk trying to warn Tug about Eduardo. He’s too trusting. He believes Eduardo needs him for reasons I’m unaware of, but I know Eduardo plans to destroy him and his career, possibly even kill him. I have to find a way to make Tug understand that he has to abandon his pl

an. My only hope is Marco. I’m not sure he can be trusted, but I have to try.

When Eduardo is fast asleep, I tiptoe quietly through the mansion headed toward the servants’ quarters to Marco’s room. Maneuvering through the guards on watch in the foyer proves difficult and a squeaky floorboard nearly gives me away. I freeze outside Marco’s door when I hear footsteps around the corner. There’s no escaping whoever is about to discover me.

“Maria,” Marco whispers as he rounds the corner. “What the fuck are you doing out here?” He grips my arm and shoves me into his room. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

“I need your help.” I sound like I’m begging, which I’m about to.

“No!” His head shakes frantically. “I can’t.”

“Please.” The desperation of my plea echoes in my ears.

“No. What do you think Eduardo will do if we get caught? Think about Javier.”

“He’ll kill him, Marco. Please.” I stare up pleadingly into his eyes. “You and Tug were practically friends. I just need your help to get a message to him. That’s all.”

“You need to get back to your room.” He pushes me from his room into the hall. “Go through the kitchen and forget we had this conversation.”

“Please,” I say one last time.

He rubs his eyes before looking at me. “All right, I’ll think about it.”

I bite down a smile. “Thank you.”

He closes his door and I walk quietly through the hall. I tiptoe through the kitchen, careful not to make a sound, but as I approach the door on the other side, the light flips on.

Eduardo’s dark and haunted eyes meet mine. His jaw ticks with anger as he marches toward me. “What are you doing in here?”

I back up away from him until I hit the cold marble island. Our chests meet as his stubble scratches my cheek. He asks what I was doing again and I swallow my fear. “I needed a drink of water.”

His eyes narrow as he pinches my chin. “Sneaking around in the dark for a drink of water?”

The disturbing tone of his voice makes me shiver. “I didn’t want to wake anyone.”

His nails dig into the skin of my thighs as he lifts me onto the countertop. He splits my legs with his body while shoving my nightgown up to my waist. A second later he tears my underwear from my body.

My heart rate gains speed as my insides rattle with fear. I close my eyes and visualize Tug in front of me. His lips graze my ear as I feel his cock nudge my opening. I chant Tug’s name in my mind, hoping if I say it enough times, I’ll wake from this nightmare in the arms of the man who owns my heart. But it’s Eduardo’s voice in my ear, reminding me that I’m very much living in reality.

“I saw you on the cameras trying to warn your lover,” he says, kissing behind my ear. “Mr. Hunter never loved you. He told me you were merely a pleasant lay, and he pretended to care about you to save face after people learned of your sleazy profession.”

I fight impending tears, refusing to believe the malicious words of a man I detest. With a powerful surge of his hips, he enters me. He pulls the back of my hair, exposing my neck and holds firm. His teeth graze a line before sinking into my skin until the pain brings a flow of tears. “I own you, Maria. You and Javier are mine.”

“Yes,” I say imagining it’s Tug declaring his possession.

“No one else will ever have you. Are we clear?”

“Yes,” I cry out. In my mind I shout, yes, Tug repeatedly, until I bring myself to believe it’s him making love to me. Soon, I crumble and succumb to a mind-numbing climax. The satisfied smile curling Eduardo’s lips as my eyes open, steals the minuscule moment of happiness I allowed myself.

I hate this man with every fiber of my being. One way or another, I will find a way to make him suffer.

I spend the night in a hotel and fly home Saturday morning. While sitting in the plane on the tarmac, I receive a text from Peyton with a photo of the office in my house. Laughter falls from my lips as I stare at the photo. It looks like someone threw up bubble gum on the walls. Like fucking Barbie’s moving in.

P: I told you it was a beautiful shade of pink. So cheerful, don’t you think?

My laughter continues as I reply.