Yours.
I was a married man.
I didn’t wait to hear what she thought about it. She wasn’t in a place to thank me for anything yet, and if she was going to tell me she hated it, because it didn’t come from Diego, I was in no mood to hear that.
“You haven’t touched your fruit,” I said. “In Greek mythology, pomegranates are the fruit of the dead.”
“That was true for Persephone,” she said right away.
Ah. I wasn’t expecting such a smart comeback. Between us, we seemed to possess a wealth of knowledge on tempting berries. “If you see her time in captivity as a death sentence, then yes. Some would be willing to die in order to become the queen of hell, though.” I sliced my pomegranate open to get to the juicy red center. I couldn’t wait to sink my teeth into Natalia, too. “Es un delicia inigualable.”
A matchless delight. Her cheeks pinkened as she watched me scoop out the seeds. “Jaz,” I called, and she appeared in the doorway. “Pack Natalia a bag. We’re not staying here tonight.”
Jaz nodded. “Yes, sir.”
Natalia stilled, her palm still pressed to the table. Her fingers curled. “We’re not?”
“You said you were bored.” My tone dropped, making it sound like a threat—and I was fine with that. “We’re going out.”
“Out?” She met my gaze. “Where?”
There it was. The slight tremor of fear in her voice that she tried to hide. It did something to me, owning that fear. That was at least one thing Diego had never gotten from her. Perhaps he’d made her quiver, but I could inspire the deepest tremble. I would make her shake.
I’d make her beg.
Natalia jumped up before I could answer. “Wait,” she called across the room, but Jazmín was long gone. “I can pack my own things.”
“Sit and finish—you’ll need the energy,” I said. “Jaz will do it.”
The phone wouldn’t last another night.
With an audible swallow, Natalia lowered herself back into the chair. “Where are we going?”
“To La Madrina. You remember my nightclub?” I allowed myself a smile at the way her spine lengthened. “But first, I’m going to introduce you to the Belmonte-Ruiz cartel.”
14
Natalia
In Cristiano’s closet, I quickly dug through the bag Jaz had just packed while Cristiano showered. During Cristiano’s absence, I’d gotten my hands on a sewing kit and stitched a secret pocket into the lining for the phone. I tore through her precise folding and the tops she’d rolled into neat, tidy torpedoes until I felt the weight of it in my palm and breathed a sigh of relief.
“All there?”
I jumped at Cristiano’s voice behind me, then tucked the phone back into place, piling clothing on top of it. “Yep.”
I turned around and darted my eyes away. I didn’t think I’d ever get used to the way my heart skipped seeing him in just a towel—all the trim, powerful muscles that lay in wait beneath his clothes on display. The fact that his body had pinned me to the mattress several days ago made me want to sneak another peek when it should’ve made me desperate enough to throw myself over the balcony just to escape. I’d never felt that kind of firm, promising weight on me, not even with Diego. And it made my insides tighten with desire.
I was a traitor to myself and my gender.
And Cristiano was a smirking jerk who seemed to read my mind.
“We’ll leave in ten minutes,” he said. “Wear the same black dress you had on the night you came to my club.”
But it was so short. So revealing. I’d only worn it around Cristiano knowing Diego was nearby. And we were meeting the Belmonte-Ruiz cartel, a thought that immediately dried my throat. I was supposed to meet sex traffickers in a skimpy dress? “I don’t think it’s clean,” I lied.
“Even better. Put on the dirty little dress you wore for me that night.” His pupils dilated as he looked me over. “We can role play what would’ve happened if you’d come up to my office like I’d asked you to.”
“What if there are people I know at the club?”
“Doubtful as it’s out of town. But you don’t need to worry about that. You won’t be seeing anyone I haven’t arranged for you in advance.” He turned his back to me. “I don’t like surprises.”
My eyes drifted to the carpet. “And yet a life in the dark is nothing but surprises.”
“At least it’s not boring, eh? Now, where’s that dress?” He discarded his towel on a chair and surveyed his extensive suit collection. “I want to watch you squeeze into it.”
I lost my breath at the sight of his ass. I could’ve flicked a quarter at it and ducked as it ricocheted right back at me. Smooth with bronze, concave cheeks, it had more definition than his top-of-the-line TVs.