Violent Delights (White Monarch 1)

He worked silently a few moments. “You forget I’ve lost parents too—and a brother as far as I’m concerned. I was thrown out of the only life I knew and forced to fend for myself.”

“You have only yourself to blame for the consequences of your actions.”

He glanced up at me. “You still think I’m guilty?”

“Yes,” I said. No matter what questions I had, he’d latch onto any weakness I showed, so I kept my mounting doubts to myself.

“Nah,” he said. “I’m innocent. You know I am. Yet my brother chose not to believe me, even though it would end my life. So what do you suggest I do about that?”

I tried not to let his twisted truths worm their way into my consciousness. He was only trying to manipulate me against Diego, that was all. “Nothing.”

Like Diego, Cristiano had long, full lashes. But behind them, his dark, calculating eyes betrayed the differences between them. “You know I can’t let something like that slide.”

Goose bumps spread over my skin, prickling my hair under my silky robe. “So you are here for revenge.”

He returned to the task in front of him. “I reached out to him once, about four years after Bianca’s death. Did he tell you? I wanted to come home. To tell Costa the truth and pledge my loyalty to him.”

I shifted on the seat. I’d only been thirteen and already away at school. I hadn’t heard anything about Cristiano reaching out then or since. “What happened?”

“He said he’d broker a meeting between your father and me, but it was a setup. He tried to have me killed.” Holding my wrist in one hand, he ripped open a bandage with his teeth and stuck it on one of my cuts. “There’s no trust amongst us, and there never will be.”

It wasn’t as if my father or Diego told me much to begin with, but that seemed like an important detail to keep from me. And if they’d hide that, what else didn’t I know? Could I even believe Cristiano?

“What about me?” I asked quietly. “I said you were guilty too. You must think I also betrayed you.”

I swallowed when he didn’t respond. If Cristiano had anything to do with the fall of the Maldonado deal, he must’ve known they’d come after Diego—and the people he cared about. “I guess that was your plan all along. We didn’t give you a chance to prove your innocence. My father and Diego hunted you for years. Now, the Maldonados can take us all out in one fell swoop and you command both cartels.”

“If you believe that, why aren’t you running for your life?”

“I wouldn’t leave my father or Diego behind.”

“You don’t know what you’re toying with, mamacita,” he said, shaking his head. “Where was Diego when you were on the roof alone? He left you behind.”

“He had to salvage what he could of the product. When he ran downstairs, the fire hadn’t started yet. He couldn’t have known that would happen.” I adjusted the ice pack. “He was coming back for me.”

“It only matters that you believe he would’ve.”

He released my arm, and I pulled it back, cradling it to my body. “That’s not fair. Diego has been there for me my whole life.”

“It must be coincidence that staying by your side also serves his best interests.”

I wanted to ask Cristiano what he meant, but giving him the chance to spin more lies felt like a betrayal to Diego.

I bent my knee as Cristiano picked up my foot and placed it in his lap. He held my ankle in one hand and ran his fingers along my arch. I jerked but tried to hide that I was ticklish. His touch firmed and my reflex to squirm disappeared. A sharp, pleasant thrill traveled up the inside of my thigh. My instinct should’ve been to pull away, but warmth coursed through me instead. Satisfaction bloomed like surrendering to a protective embrace as arousal tightened my insides.

Cristiano had a face made to lure prey, a voice as powerful as the sensation of skin on skin, a presence that demanded my attention. But I knew the danger he presented—how could I possibly harbor any attraction to him? What had given me the confidence that he hadn’t brought me up here to hurt me? My body and mind betrayed me.

As he dug the tweezers into a particularly sensitive spot, I clenched my fist around the towel of ice and sucked in a breath. He raised his eyes to mine. “Mmm,” he said. “Qué interesante.”

“What’s interesting?” I breathed.

“You’re excited by a little pinch.”

“I am not. I’m in pain.”

“And a part of you likes it.” He blinked lazily at me. “A part of me likes it.”

I inhaled. Please tell the heavens it is my dying wish to hear you scream. The warmth he’d awakened in me simmered to a tingle between my legs. Why did things that should intimidate me arouse me instead? So far, his threats had been hollow, but just because Cristiano was handling me gently now didn’t mean I was in the clear.