Violent Ends (White Monarch 2)

Though Cristiano was as calculating as Diego, it was in a different way, and I couldn’t quite put my finger on why. Most men around here shot first and aimed later. “Why not?”

“Costa was right—the men were in there. But I was right, too. There were also women and children in the house who would’ve paid the price if we’d attacked.”

Maybe that was it. Diego looked out for himself, and Cristiano looked out for others. Which was nice and all, except that nobody seemed to be looking out for me. Diego had acted in his own best interest by offering me up, and Cristiano in his by taking me.

“Weren’t you so noble, then?” I asked, sitting back. “And I suppose you feel that Diego and I forced you into a life you’d once looked down on.”

“Only as much as I have forced this life on you.”

So what did that mean—we were even? Hardly. Even if he’d been wrongly accused and forced out of the cartel, at least he’d had his freedom. “Do you still think you’re the voice of reason?” I asked, my temper rising. “Did you think if you cornered me, you could then convince yourself that you had saved me?” I rolled my eyes. “Maybe you hoped I’d see it that way, too.”

A server I didn’t recognize cleared our plates as we stared each other down.

“Did you roll your eyes at me?” It was a warning more than a question. Cristiano grabbed a toothpick from a tin and stuck it in his mouth. “You’re certainly brave for someone who thinks I’m capable of murder on a whim.”

That image of him didn’t match the man sitting in front of me, who’d restrained himself many times over in the weeks since he’d returned. Who was he? How long until he showed me? I was rolling my eyes and sniping at him because I was frustrated. “I think you still need me, so you’re playing nice,” I said. “I just don’t know why, or for how long.”

“I never needed you.”

The cutting words snipped at my already short wick. “Then why am I here?” I retorted.

“Because I wanted you.”

My heart thumped beneath his suddenly darkened gaze. All playfulness evaporated from between us and in its place was whatever inexplicable charge had existed the night of our costumed dance. Of the morning he’d bandaged my feet. Or of any time since I’d arrived when I’d been under his spell.

“I told you that merging our families through marriage wasn’t my idea. I have no need for you and your family. Only desire.” He relaxed into his seat again and chewed on his toothpick. “I took you, yes. The idea of having you as my bride appealed to me for several reasons. But now, I can’t imagine things any other way.”

11

Natalia

As Cristiano paced by the pool on a call, I rationed what remained of my wine. I picked up the glass. Backlit by the turquoise pool, it glowed ethereal blue. It was tempting to drown myself in the wide, generous wineglass after the day I’d had, but I had to be smart.

I’d wasted too much time being gullible. I’d hated Cristiano for orchestrating an elaborate plan to get me to the Badlands, but it was Diego who’d orchestrated everything. Forty-eight hours earlier, I would’ve sworn on my mother’s grave it wasn’t possible.

But I knew it was the truth.

As I tilted my glass, watching the white liquid pool to one side, I recalled something Diego had told me before we’d slept together.

I’d have to be willing to promise him anything to get him on our side. Even if I don’t mean to keep those promises.

Now, thanks to Cristiano, I was thinking like Diego. If he were here now, he’d spin the tale in his favor. He’d tell me he’d promised Cristiano the world to get him to agree to help us, but that he’d planned all along to free me once the coast was clear.

I righted the wineglass. Two more sips, I decided, but then I’d stop. I doubted I’d get tipsy after the snails, duck, mixed salad, and cheese, but I wasn’t taking any chances. Reading a man like Cristiano required my full, unadulterated attention.

Especially when I had his.

I drizzled honeycomb over blue cheese, impressed by the meal we’d just eaten. Recreating world-class fare my mother had made might’ve been a way for Cristiano to distract me from the truth of my situation—but the walk down memory lane was welcome nonetheless. It was as close to time spent with her as I’d get.

Cristiano made his way back to the table, tucking his phone into his shirt pocket. “I have to leave town for the next couple days, so we’re going to go over some things.”

And of all people, I had brash, taciturn Cristiano to thank for my night with Mamá. Not that I would.