Violent Triumphs (White Monarch 3)

I looked over my shoulder. Jaz stood in the doorway with an armful of towels, a green plastic bowl, and a sponge. “He needs to be cleaned up,” I said.

She entered the room. “That’s why I’m here.”

My husband receiving a sponge bath from another woman? That wasn’t going to happen. I rose from the edge of his bed. Our bed. “I’ll do it.”

She set the items on his nightstand and unfolded a towel from the top of the pile. “I’ve been tending to señor de la Rosa for years.”’

“That was before,” I said.

“Before what?” she asked but kept her eyes on the task in front of her. She knew the answer.

“Before me,” I said.

Alejandro had been right earlier—gone were the days of conceding to others. Cristiano needed me to step up now and act as his wife. To care for him as one, and to make decisions in his best interest.

“You care about Cristiano,” I noted.

She paused and dropped the towel to her side. “And you’ve made it clear you don’t.”

“Things change,” I said. “People change.”

Jaz shook her head. “People don’t change. Circumstances do. I don’t trust you alone with him.”

“And I didn’t trust you, either,” I said. “You eavesdropped on my call with him last night, then threatened my life, not for the first time. But you also helped get me and Pilar to safety.”

She shrugged and took the bowl and sponge to the bathroom. “I did that for Cristiano,” she said over the sound of running water.

“Then we do have something in common,” I said. “Our loyalty to him.”

She poked her head into the room. “You call feeding outsiders information loyalty?”

The cell phone Diego had given me. Jaz had likely helped Cristiano find it. “I never shared information outside these walls,” I promised. “It was a mistake to accept the phone. I paid the price. Cristiano has forgiven me.”

She turned off the faucet and returned to his bedside with a bowl of soapy water. “He’s blind when it comes to you.”

Her words echoed the distrust she’d made clear to me the night before. But then there was also that other thing she’d said. The one I hadn’t remembered until this moment.

“Even if he doesn’t know it yet, he loves you . . .”

Last night, I hadn’t known how to feel about that, but now? Was it possible I felt the same about him and hadn’t known it, either?

I went quiet with the startling thought. Then pushed it away, considering Jaz tilted her head as if she could read my mind.

“Nobody can deny you’ve been good to him,” I said. “But you have to make room for me, because if it’s one or the other, you know who Cristiano will choose.”

Jaz crossed her arms. “You’re sure about that?”

I couldn’t fathom Cristiano having to pick between the two of us, but he’d worked hard to get me here—and even harder to ensure I couldn’t just walk away. I pulled my shoulders back as I nodded. “I am.”

“Jaz.” Alejandro leaned in the doorway. How long he’d been listening, I wasn’t sure. “This is Natalia’s job now.”

Jaz sighed. “I hope you prove me wrong,” she said to me and walked away.

Alejandro winked, then shut the door to give me privacy.

I picked up the sponge.

And I prepared myself to tend to the devil. To fix the monster who’d destroy all other monsters. To bring my husband back to life.

4

Cristiano

I’d opened my eyes once and seen my dark angel above me, silhouetted by sunlight streaming through the balcony’s arched doorways. She wasn’t here now. Maybe it’d been a dream, but she was one I hoped to have over and over. And yet, I’d almost died without having her even once.

I ached for her gentle touch, the curled ends of her midnight-black hair brushing my skin as her oval eyes soothed me, even when they were filled with defiance. “Natalia.”

“Welcome back to the living.” It was Alejandro who stepped up to the bed, crashing through my fantasy with a grin on his face. “You’re a little slower to recover in your old age. I had my money on you waking up this morning.”

Reality hit with brutal force. I shot into a sitting position, pain searing through my chest and down my side. “Where’s Natalia?” The words scraped from my dry-as-fuck throat as the machines around my bed beeped faster, louder. “What happened to her?”

“Don’t move.” Alejandro laid a hand on my shoulder to try to ease me back down. “Your wife is here, don Cristiano. She’s sleeping.” He nodded backward to where her sock-clad feet stuck out over one arm of the sofa. “She hasn’t left your side.”

Even my relief was exhausting, hitting like a tidal wave and forcing me back against the bed. “Is she okay?”

“She’s fine, but she hasn’t slept much in the last thirty-six hours.” His voice deepened. “I can wake her, but first, I should debrief you.”