Stealing Beauty (Stolen 1)

The ceremony passed by in a blur. I drew in deep breaths to suppress my rising nausea. When the priest pronounced Vicente and Camila husband and wife, I managed a wide smile. My eyes watered with empathy for the girl, but I’d be able to pass it off as tears of joy.

I followed the stream of guests as we exited the white and gold opulence of the basilica, stepping out into the heavy dusk heat. Hugo waited by the black limo outside the church, gesturing that I should get in the car. Vicente and Camila were already in their vintage Rolls-Royce, which would take them to the reception space: an imposing, historic castillo located outside Bogotá.

I smiled at my husband and took his hand, allowing him to help me slide into the back seat. He settled in beside me, pressing his doughy body close to mine. The sickening scent of his amber cologne mingling with his sweat washed over me. I’d become accustomed to it over the years, but today, the overpowering reek made me want to retch.

Seconds later, my nausea intensified. My gut lurched as Adrián got into the limo, his stunning blonde date sliding into place at his side. Her dark eyebrows didn’t match her platinum locks, but the obvious dye job didn’t diminish her beauty.

I couldn’t focus on her, though. My eyes locked on Adrián’s burning green stare.

My breath caught, and my pretty smile melted.

Hugo’s meaty hand rested on my thigh, high enough to be indecent in front of strangers.

But Adrián wasn’t a stranger. He was a ghost from my past. A horrifying apparition that appeared all too corporeal. His massive body filled the space, his bulk obvious even beneath his sharply-tailored black suit.

I could feel Hugo’s hot breath on my face before he pressed a wet, stomach-turning kiss against my cheek. “Are you all right, cariña?”

Adrián’s nostrils flared, his full lips thinning. His square jaw hardened to granite, and his high cheekbones appeared sharper than ever.

For a moment, the world spun around me, the sickly-sweet stench of my husband powerful enough to make me lightheaded.

Hugo’s fingers dug into my thigh, a clear warning to behave myself.

The flare of pain helped me focus. I tore my eyes from Adrián’s, staring out the window instead.

“I’m fine,” I managed.

I couldn’t look at my husband. I could barely draw breath when he was so close, and Adrián’s hatred pressing against me like a tangible force didn’t help me breathe easier.

I tried to focus on the glittering lights as the city lit up around us, the historic sites of La Candelaria district beginning to glow against the falling darkness. The limo’s tires rumbled over cobblestones. I kept my attention on the soft, purring sound to soothe my raw nerves.

Eventually, the pavement evened out, and the city disappeared behind us. We made our way along a darker road to reach the castle where the wedding reception would be held.

The historic edifice appeared as we rounded a curve, the stone façade shining under golden lights. Vicente had spared no expense on this sham of a wedding, inviting hundreds of people to witness his defiling of a young, unwilling girl. The ostentatious display was disgusting, but everyone in attendance seemed to think it was a joyous occasion.

The limo slowed to a stop, and Hugo ushered me out of the car. We stepped onto a red carpet, which led us through the open, massive wooden doors. More golden light spilled out into the night, welcoming us with false cheer. Marble floors shined under the massive crystal chandelier that lit the foyer.

Hugo wrapped his arm around my waist, but I stepped away as my stomach lurched. Over the years, I’d become numb to his touch. Tonight, it made my skin crawl. The memories of my own wedding night threatened to bubble up, and bile rose in my throat.

“Excuse me,” I murmured. I couldn’t come up with a good reason to leave Hugo’s side, and I knew I’d pay for abandoning him later.

But all I could think about was fleeing from his slimy touch and rank scent.

I moved too quickly as I headed for the stairs, seeking privacy on the second level of the castle. No guests lingered around the banister on the upper floor, and I darted for the solace of a quiet room, where I could break down without witnesses.

The only thing worse than leaving Hugo standing alone in the foyer would be making a public scene. He’d be able to shrug off my sudden absence as the result of illness—I was sure I’d appeared pinched and pale enough in the limo to warrant that excuse.

No matter if the guests accepted his reasoning, he wouldn’t allow me to go unpunished.

I could only hope that he’d wait until we were back on our estate. It was the most likely scenario. He wouldn’t want to leave marks on me at this garish event; above all, he wanted others to believe that I truly was his devoted, loving wife. Anything less would be humiliating.