The Devil's Plaything - Page 75

“I know. And that will come. It’s something you slowly work toward. If it happens too fast, it may trigger you. Start slow. Tell me what you felt when Victor arrived?”

“Relief. Happiness.”

“And do you know what he did to the man who attacked you?” she questions, not mentioning the name of my rapist either, and I’m thankful for that.

“He took care of it,” I tell her. Victor told me she’s worked for his father, and him, for years. She knows what they do, so she isn’t someone who would be shocked by his actions.

“And how do you feel about it?”

“Relief. Happiness.” It’s like those are the only two emotions that I can feel right now. And in some way, I think it’s good, but I’d also like to find my way back to me. “But I want more. I know it’s only been a few weeks, but I feel like I should be stronger.”

“It takes time to overcome a trauma,” Dr. Santiago tells me with a gentle smile. “I’m here to help you through it. And you will get through it.”

“What if I don’t?”

“You will, Sofía. Tell me about that night? Are you still having nightmares?”

“I am. There are some nights I wake up in a cold sweat, it’s as if I’m right back there. As if I’m still being used, bound and helpless.”

“The helpless feeling is normal, what you’re experiencing is normal.” I watch her make notes in her book, then she looks back at me. “I’ve had clients who’ve been through the same thing, and they’ve overcome it, just like you will.”

“I’m meant to be planning my wedding,” I tell her. “He loves me so much.”

“Do you love him?”

“Yes, of course.” My response has no doubt in it. There was never a question about my love for Victor. And I know his feelings are the same. After the betrayal of him sending me to that asshole, he’s made up for it by being there for me twenty-four-seven.

“And when you look at yourself in the mirror, who is it you see? Sofía Montero or Victor Cordero’s wife?” I frown at her question, my mind drawing a blank for a moment, but then I realize what she’s trying to do.

“They’re one and the same. I’m Sofía Montero, soon-to-be Mrs. Cordero.”

“And you’re a strong woman who is stepping up to sit beside a Cartel leader.” Her voice has a hint of pride in it, and I can’t help but smile, just a little.

“Yes.”

“A queen can heal from any wound,” she tells me, and I know in that moment, she’s right. I will get better, I may not be the girl I once was, but I’ll be a woman who is stronger than ever before.

38

Sofía

One month later

Victor’s office door whooshes open, and a woman walks in. I recognize her immediately. I saw her once when I was here as a prisoner. She tried to lay a silent claim to Victor, but she seems to have moved on because she’s wearing a large diamond ring on her left hand.

Camila.

“You’re quite the talk of the town, princess,” she says, as she strolls forward on her four-inch heels. Her dress shimmers in the dim light of the office, and I smile at her, satisfaction painted on my face.

“It seems everyone needs royalty in their lives. Perhaps they wanted someone they could look up to alongside their king.”

The corner of her mouth twitches, her eyes don’t hide the venom that’s she’s so clearly wanting to throw my way, but nothing can change the fact that Victor chose me over her. I’m not here for a cat fight, but if it came down to it, I’d claw her eyes out if she even attempted to take my man.

“I’ve come to return Victor’s key,” she tells me, keeping her expression schooled and her voice cold. Her disdain for me dances in her gaze, and I allow her to see that I’m unaffected by her attempt at pushing a barrier between us.

“Thank you. He did tell me to take out the trash when I was done with his office,” I inform her, snapping the key from her blood red fingertips. “I trust you know the way out.”

“I was the one promised to him.”

“And I am the one he chose.” I rise to full height, stalking around the large mahogany desk that Victor just fucked me on an hour ago before he left for a meeting. I settle on the edge, my arms crossed over my chest as I regard her in a challenge.

“You won’t last,” she tells me.

“And why is that?”

“You’re too soft. Nothing like the women who Victor is used to. And you wouldn’t be able to stomach having to kill someone if you had to.”

“I’ll gladly pick up one of Victor’s knives right now and show you just how soft I am. Shall I demonstrate?” Tipping my head to the side, I regard her through a narrowed gaze. I want her to force my hand, my blood burns hot in my veins. If she wants a fight, I’ll happily give her one.

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