My driver,Rodrigo, arrives at ten sharp. He opens the door to the Escalade, and I slide into the passenger seat. He gets in beside me and starts the drive toward the Falcon building.
I side-glance him. He has that same sour expression he’s had since he was informed that as part of his punishment for his betrayal, he’d have to be my personal assistant for six months. That means he’s my chauffeur, bodyguard, secretary, handyman, and whatever the hell else I can come up with. Then after the six months, I’ll get to evaluate his work and determine if I want him to stay.
At first, I took advantage, making up extra tasks. It irked me that Esteban kept him on in spite of his actions and irked me even more that he’d assigned him to me as punishment. Really, I wasn’t sure who he was actually punishing, because there’s a slight possibility he still resents the whole knife incident.
But after a few days, his broody mood grew on me.
“Did you get the file I sent you?” I ask him as I pull down the visor and check my makeup. The dark eyeliner is still perfectly smudged and my red lipstick just as glossy as when I applied it.
“I’ll have it all set for you in about an hour,” he replies.
“Good. Thank you for your help on it.”
He scrapes his palm across the full beard he’s sporting now. “Your instincts were spot on.”
“I believe that’s the first time you’ve complimented me. It was a compliment, right?”
With a curt nod, he returns to his surliness, maintaining it all the way to the club. I’m dropped off at the private entrance, where I’m greeted by the guards, now so familiar with me, they allow me passage, even without my own keycard. They know I’m with Esteban now.
Speak of the devil… The elevator doors that lead to the private club within Azul open to reveal the man himself. His gaze rakes over me from my loose wavy hair, to my black strappy heels, pausing to appreciate everything in between. I spin in place, giving him a better view of the barely there slip dress, the one he had sent to me this evening.
He extends a hand, calling me to him. I go into the elevator and allow him to wrap his arms around me. “You look ravishing,” he whispers against my neck, kissing me there. “The dress fits you exactly the way I wanted it to.”
I squirm under his touch. “It shows everything.”
Pulling back slightly, he drops his gaze to where the front of the dress plunges all the way to my navel, then moves it farther down, just slightly below my crotch, where it ends.
“You are beautiful, Aurora.”
He’s just about to lean in for another kiss when the elevator bell dings and the doors open. Sighing, he takes my hand and tugs me into Club Voyeur.
We move toward our private table to find the manager, Angelica, waiting for us. “Congratulations on the announcement,” she says to him.
“Thank you,” he replies.
“I have your bottle ready, as well as the other item you requested,” she tells him, pointing to a box on the table. “Would you care for dinner tonight?”
“Perhaps later,” he says impatiently, as if he wants her to go.
She dips her chin and leaves us to sit. I stare at the champagne, which seems curiously out of place at Esteban’s table, and the black box with a silvery blue bow on top, wondering what it could be. It’s too wide and short to be a ring.
“What did you get me?” I ask Esteban, accepting the tall glass of bubbly he offers and take a sip.
“Open it.”
I set my glass aside, then slowly lift the top of the box and gasp. “Esteban, is this what I think it is?”
“It is.”
Removing it from the box, I stare at the golden yellow keycard with the word Falcon engraved on one side. “And you had it made in yellow!” I cry.
“I want you to have free reign over everything that belongs to me. I want it all to be yours.” Then he digs into his coat pocket and, from it, produces a platinum ring with a princess cut diamond. Simple. Classic. Breathtaking. “I also want you to say yes so that I can place this on your finger. Say you’ll be my wife.”
“Yes, I’ll be your wife.” Tears spring from my eyes as I fling myself on him. “Of course I will! I love you.” I press my lips to his, savoring the warmth that envelops me every time he touches me.
He winces when I slide my palm over his chest, and I instantly jerk it back. “I’m sorry. Does it still sting?”
“The only thing that hurts is my ego,” he says, touching the spot where he chose to place the Diablos tattoo Santos demanded he get to show he now belongs to them. “It irks me that I’m at his beck and call.”
“And you did it all for me.” Love swells within me at the knowledge that this man, powerful and deadly himself, would swallow his pride for me.
“He knows I’d die for you.”
“I’m your weakness.”
“My strength,” he corrects. “I certainly could never put up with Cruz otherwise.”
“Would you feel better if I got a tattoo as well? Wherever you belong, I want to be there too.”
“The only mark I want on you is mine.” He slips the ring onto my finger, then brings it to his mouth and kisses the tip.
I lean against him, admiring the beautiful piece that marks me as his. After a while, I lower my hand and choose to watch the crowd instead, wondering if any of them are as happy as I am at this moment. Then I view the beds that line the perimeter of the club and the men and women on them.
I’ve watched them many times now, and the sight of them having sex on stage, their bodies entwining, fucking, moaning, still turns me on the way it did the very first time.
The day Esteban told me he’d fuck me there too.
Heat pools between my legs as I recall what it was like to be laid on that mattress, with every eye in the place upon us. I was more than willing to let Esteban do whatever he wanted to me while the audience observed. Only, he didn’t go through with it because he was angry.
“What are you thinking?” he asks, startling me. “You’re flushed.”
“I’m thinking that as much as I love this ring, I like your other mark on me better.” I swallow hard, my mouth gone dry at the thought of what I’m about to do. “Every bed is taken,” I whisper hoarsely and peer up at him.
He frowns, flicking a glance toward the stages. “Yes.”
“That leaves me with only one option.” Wiggling slightly to divest myself of one bothersome article of clothing, I turn and lift myself onto the table, setting myself in front of him.
“What are you doing?” he asks, though his gaze has already darkened several degrees.
“You once told me you would fuck me here, but you’ve yet to follow through.” I spread my legs, forcing the short skirt of my dress to rise.
Esteban arches a brow as he stares at the juncture between my thighs. “Where are your panties?”
I dangle them from the tip of my finger. He snatches them up and brings them to his nose. Shutting his eyes, he inhales deeply, the sight of it making me instantly wet.
“I want you to fuck me, Esteban.”