None of that made me a whore, though. I was a survivor, just like Jaz.
“You and I are on the same side,” I told her. “But if you can’t see that, then we’re opponents of your own making.” I snatched my t-shirt from her, suddenly regretting I’d trusted her enough to undress in front of her. “And it’s señora de la Rosa to you,” I leveled at her as I pulled on my shirt. “Call me a whore again, and I’ll have Cristiano throw you out.”
“He would never,” she said without an ounce of doubt.
I had far less confidence, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t fake it. I tipped my chin down. “Who do you think he’d choose?”
“Me, if he’s smart. And he is. Smarter than you. We may be forced to wait on you,” she said, “but we don’t trust you. He lets you in his bed and drops his guard, but rest assured, if ever I come in here and find you’ve betrayed the man we consider our savior, you won’t make it off the property.”
She left before I could tell her to get out.
7
Cristiano
As we drove up the tree-lined road to the Cruz house, Natalia’s father came into sight, his wrinkled face set in a scowl and his arms crossed over his chest. Waiting at the top of the front steps under the porch, he was tall enough to reach up and touch the metal sconce over his head.
Or rip it out and beat me with it.
If I hadn’t known him almost twenty years, I might’ve been intimidated.
We parked on the rustic, Tuscan pavers Bianca Cruz had not only picked out but helped install herself—the way she’d painstakingly overseen every remodel or addition to this house.
As I exited the SUV, Costa raised his chin. “You’d better have one hell of an explanation, de la Rosa.” Natalia jumped out of the car before I could get her door. Costa kept his eyes on me as he extended one arm to her. “Come here, mija.”
Natalia went to her father, looking up at him with big, hopeful eyes. “Papá.”
“Did he hurt you?”
“No, but—”
He nodded shortly at me. “Talk. Fast, before I draw my own conclusions.”
I stuck my hands in my pockets and sauntered up the front steps with Max at my back. Barto took his position by Natalia. She should be by my side now. I’d grant her and Costa this time to adjust, but I’d never been known for my patience. “Our houses are one now,” I told him.
“If this is an effort to take over the Cruz cartel—”
“Not a takeover. A partnership.” I glanced at Natalia. Once, it’d been part of my job to keep an eye on her. Now, I was finding it hard to look at much else. And as time went on, it seemed, she looked back with a little more defiance. And a little more familiarity. “If not for me,” I said, “Diego would be dead.”
“A sacrifice I’d be willing to make in exchange for my daughter’s safety,” Costa said.
“Then talk to him,” I said. “But Diego didn’t only jeopardize his own life. He put you, your cartel, and your daughter at risk. Until I stepped in. So you can thank me.”
“He has thanked you,” Natalia said, her cheeks beautifully flushed, her hair slightly undone, “by not wringing your neck for kidnapping his daughter.”
Boldness agreed with Natalia. It always had, even when she’d demurred from it. But that didn’t mean I’d step back and let her accuse me of more crimes I didn’t commit. “Kidnapping? I didn’t drag you down the aisle.” And I wasn’t the one who’d dragged her away from the door when I’d been trying to leave the room the night before.
God reward me for my restraint when my dick had been painfully hard against her underwear and begging for relief . . .
I cleared my throat and returned my eyes to Costa. “I’ve kept her alive. I’ve kept her safe.”
Costa’s eyebrows lowered along with his register. “And she wears a ring.”
I nodded once. “A condition of our arrangement.”
“Look at your daughter, don Costa,” Barto said. “She’s terrified.”
Natalia cowered against her father. It was for show. Not since we’d left the church had she shown true fear. Even when she’d trembled against my body the night before, there’d been determination in her voice. One could even detect a hint of submission in the way she’d fallen against me during our kiss if one was looking for it.
And I was always looking for it.
Even if Natalia had been experienced enough to fake her arousal, she had no reason to. The kiss in the church, and then later in our bedroom, had swept her off her feet. She was right to be afraid of that, but she’d be wrong to deny it.
“I found her in his bed,” Barto continued, “and seeing as she’s hated Cristiano since the day she discovered him standing over Bianca’s body, I can only conclude the worst. Will you let him get away with that?”