Violent Delights (White Monarch 1)

Perhaps the monarch hadn’t come to deliver a wish or a message—but a warning.

Run.

20

Natalia

Sunshine streamed through the archways on both sides of the church, but it didn’t touch me in the center. The aisle that would lead a bride to her groom remained dim and candlelit.

The aisle that ended with Cristiano de la Rosa.

He stood in Diego’s spot wearing a perfectly cut suit and a satin tie as sleek and jet-black as his styled hair. His eyes trailed from my lace-adorned neck, to the rosary and bouquet in my hands, to my ankles. Even in such a modest dress, his perusal stripped me bare. Heat warmed my cheeks. He acted as if he had every right to linger his gaze on the curves of my breasts and hips. As if he was deciding where to start. As if he owned me.

The room had gone still, not even a breath exhaled.

A pit formed in my stomach. There was a chance Cristiano had come to stand for his brother, but with the way he looked at me—possessively, but with more satisfaction than longing—I knew he wasn’t here just to show support for the joining of our families.

“What have you done with Diego?” The panic in my voice reverberated off the pews around us.

Cristiano’s eyes shifted over my shoulder. I turned. Diego stood at the door, sagging under the weight of something I couldn’t name. It didn’t matter. He was here. I ran to him and threw my arms around his neck, breathing in the heady fragrance of my bouquet and Diego’s soapy scent.

He hugged me back until Cristiano barked a single warning that echoed off the high ceilings. “Diego.”

Diego moved his hands to my shoulders and peeled me off, separating us. He seemed to have aged years since I’d last seen him. “My dearest Talia,” he whispered, his green eyes searching mine. “My love. You know you are, don’t you? My only love?”

It felt like a good-bye. Since I’d stepped into the garden, dread had been slowly gathering in me like the dark clouds on the horizon—and a storm was about to hit. I moved back and stepped on the bouquet I hadn’t even realized I’d dropped. I held the rosary with both hands, as if in prayer. “Please tell me Cristiano is only here to see this merger through.”

Diego scrubbed both hands over his face, then smoothed back his hair. “Everything is gone, Talia. I can’t replace it, and I can’t pay for it. If the Maldonados aren’t already on their way, they will be soon, and they’ll come after all of us.”

“I know,” I said. “I know, but you said you had a plan—you said . . .”

“Cristiano has admitted to the attacks. He sabotaged my deal with them.”

I knew it. It should’ve come as no great shock, but heat rose up my neck and cheeks as anger brewed inside me. I gritted my teeth. “Then let him pay for it.”

“I can’t prove it. I have no credibility or influence with them. But he does.” Diego nodded over my shoulder. “There’s only one way out, and it’s through him.”

The only way out was to form an alliance and stand against the Maldonados. We’d already figured that out, so what did Cristiano have to do with it? “What do you mean?” I asked.

“Cristiano will settle our debts and smooth things over with the Maldonados, but only if . . .” He trailed off as if he couldn’t bear to say more.

“Only if what?” I asked. “What about our plan? By marrying and uniting our families, we’ll—”

I froze.

Make an unworthy man happy.

Meet me at the church this Sunday.

Diego had never actually proposed.

He went to touch my face but stopped himself at the last second. “I swear to you, Natalia,” he said so softly, I almost didn’t hear him, “I will fix this. Trust me. Please.”

I reached out for something to steady myself as I became light-headed, but there was nothing. “This . . . you . . .”

Cristiano cleared his throat. “My patience grows thin, hermano.”

Diego glanced over my shoulder and wiped sweat from his forehead with the butt of his palm. “I told you there’d be a union of families today—”

“No.” I was shaking my head—slowly at first and then harder. I ripped off my veil as it came loose. “No.”

Diego gripped my shoulders. “It’s the only option. Cristiano will throw us at the mercy of the Maldonados unless you agree.”

I breathed out a shuddering gasp, and a laugh of disbelief escaped. The space around us sharpened into a distortion of reality, as if I’d been hit with déjà vu. “Unless I agree to . . . to what?”

Diego nodded once. “To marry Cristiano today.”

My heart thudded painfully. I dropped the veil and my rosary clattered on the wood floor. Marry Cristiano? I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. I shifted my gaze over Diego’s shoulder to Pilar, whose eyes flitted from the men at the altar to us to the armed Russian next to her—guarding the door. Had this been planned? When? How long had Diego known?