Stealing Beauty (Stolen 1)

I’d liked her fear, even then. I’d watched her, wanted her. Stalked her around the estate as we were forced together under the same roof. Over time, we developed a close companionship. Some might call us childhood sweethearts, but the darker games I’d liked to play with her in the jungle hadn’t been sweet.

For a while, I’d protected her from my father’s and Hugo’s advances. I’d taken her for myself. Valentina had been mine. She’d loved me, and I couldn’t help loving her.

This woman cowering in the back of the car wasn’t my Valentina. This woman had betrayed me. She’d chosen to love Hugo, the man who used to beat me when my father was too bored to be bothered disciplining me. She’s chosen to share Hugo’s bed and let him use her body however he wanted.

I swallowed my mounting rage and turned my attention back to Mateo. Her betrayal didn’t matter now. The only thing that mattered was punishing them both. If she loved her husband, I’d make sure she never saw him again. Valentina was my property now, my prize.

I just had to get her out of Colombia.

“We’ll need plenty of cash for bribes,” I told Mateo. “U.S. dollars and pesos.” The dollars would serve us best in our illegal dealings, but pesos were less conspicuous for more ordinary purchases. Like new clothes, for starters. I couldn’t allow Valentina to walk around in that dress. Too many unwelcome eyes would be on her.

The very idea made my blood boil.

“We can ditch the Porsche here,” I announced when we were deep into Los Mártirez. What better place to get a car stolen than the district known for selling stolen goods?

“You’re going to replace it, right?” Mateo asked for confirmation. The man did love his fast cars.

“I’ll get you whatever model you want, once we get back to California.” That promise could cost me anywhere from two hundred thousand to two million, but I’d pay any price to take Valentina away from Hugo. I’d fantasized about this for years, and no amount of money was too high to make it happen.

“Deal.” Mateo shot me a wide, boyish grin, reminding me of his age. Usually, he was all sharp angles and terse words, and his black beard added to his air of maturity. I often forgot that he was only twenty-three; five years younger than me. He’d been with me almost as long as I’d been in California, and I trusted him more than anyone else. Really, he was the only person I trusted.

I could rely on him to help me get Valentina safely out of Bogotá and back to my home in L.A., where Hugo and my father would be powerless to take her from me. They might rule in Colombia, but America was my domain.

Mateo pulled up to the curb and put the car in park. He didn’t bother to take the keys out of the ignition. We wanted to invite someone to steal it as soon as our feet hit the pavement. This car needed to be as far from our location as possible, preferably in pieces. With the back window shattered, it would probably be stripped for parts before we found a hotel to check into for a few hours.

That suited my needs perfectly.

I got out of the car and helped Valentina out of the back seat. Her hand trembled in mine, and I squeezed her slender fingers. I had no intention of releasing her, in case she had any foolish ideas about making a run for it.

She wouldn’t get far in her black stilettos, but I didn’t want her to make a scene that might draw attention. I didn’t want anyone to remember our faces once we abandoned the car.

I passed the gun to Mateo, entrusting him with our safety. He followed a step behind us, shielding our backs with his bulky body.

As soon as we started walking away from the Porsche, I knew there was no chance we’d go unnoticed. In this neighborhood, we stood out in our formal attire. Our suits and Valentina’s dress practically screamed money, and the sharks were already circling. Two men who’d been casually leaning against a shopfront straightened as we approached. Their eyes skipped from my suit-clad form to Valentina’s clinging, low-cut dress.

“Mateo,” I growled, barely mastering the rush of fury in response to their eyes on her. I had to regain my usual cold control if I was going to get her out of the city in one piece. This half-mad rage she incited in me threatened to make me lose all composure. I recognized that the anger held a possessive edge, but that didn’t mean I loathed her any less. If anything, my inability to control myself in her presence made me resent her more.

As my hand tightened to a vise around hers, Mateo made a loud, obvious show of loading a bullet into the chamber of his Glock. The sound warned off the encroaching threats, and the men who had been approaching slunk back into the shadows.