Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 59405 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59405 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
“Stefano Duarte is my friend,” I said coldly, even though I didn’t feel a shred of kinship with the man. He’d backed me into this corner, forcing me to support him in exchange for safe passage back to America.
Delivering this blow to Caesar, disrupting his plans to increase his wealth through marrying off his daughter to Ronaldo, gave me some measure of satisfaction. I’d never liked Caesar, but I’d allowed him to live, as long as he served me faithfully. If he defied me now, he wouldn’t leave this house alive.
“I won’t betray my friend,” I continued, my voice deadly soft. “If there’s a war between Duarte and Ronaldo, we’re going to support Duarte.”
Caesar’s fists curled at his sides. “But what about the wedding? What about Sofia?”
I shrugged, unconcerned. “Marry your daughter off to a dead man, if you like. Ronaldo won’t survive long. Maybe you’d be able to collect his wealth, once he’s killed. But Sofia might suffer in the fallout.”
I heard a grunt behind me, something like a stifled growl. Mateo had taken his usual place at my back, guarding me. Now, I felt malice pulsing from his direction. The fine hairs on my neck prickled with awareness of a threat.
Apparently, Mateo didn’t like the idea of Sofia in danger.
His infatuation with the girl was none of my concern. He’d never made his move, so he didn’t have a claim over her.
The color drained from Caesar’s cheeks, leaving his tanned skin uncharacteristically pale. He didn’t like the idea of his daughter in danger, either. Even though Caesar Hernández was one of the most ruthless men I knew, he did have a soft spot for his precious little princess.
“We support Stefano from now on,” I reiterated, enunciating each word. “End your alliance with Ronaldo. Are we in agreement?”
Caesar didn’t have any other choice, but I needed to hear him promise to obey me.
His green eyes narrowed on me, his thin lips twisting in a scowl. “You’re doing this because of Valentina,” he accused. “You took Hugo’s wife, and you’ve given power to Duarte to save both your necks. Vicente won’t let this rest. He won’t let you weaken our business in order to keep that whore.”
Rage washed over me in a red haze, and I moved without thought. In an instant, Caesar was sprawled out on the marble floor beneath me, blood spraying from his mouth as my fist connected with his jaw. My hands closed around his throat, squeezing hard enough to cut off his air supply. He clawed at my forearms, struggling to jerk free.
His face turned purple again, this time from lack of oxygen. His lips moved, struggling to beg for mercy. His pleas were no more than choking sounds trapped in his constricted throat.
“Jefe,” Mateo called out to me, his tone sharp with warning. “You’re killing him”
With great effort, I harnessed my fury and wrenched my hands away from Caesar’s neck. I shoved up onto my feet, breathing hard. All my muscles tensed with the need to punish him, violence rippling just beneath my skin.
“Get out,” I seethed.
Caesar gasped, clutching at his throat as he desperately sucked in air. He couldn’t stand on his own.
I turned to Mateo. “Get him out of my sight,” I ordered roughly. If the man wasn’t taken out of my house immediately, I would kill him for insulting Valentina. As it was, I barely managed to hold back.
Mateo nodded and grabbed Caesar’s shoulders, wrenching him upright and dragging him out of my living room.
When he disappeared from view, I heaved in several deep breaths. Darkness raced through my veins, my cruelty seeking an outlet.
There was only one thing that would soothe me.
I stalked across the house, closing the distance between myself and my innocent prey.
Chapter 17
Valentina
I heard Adrián’s heavy footfalls on the hardwood floor, and I turned away from the drama of my telenovela to beam at him. My smile melted into concern when I took in the wild light in his eyes, the disarray of his glossy black hair. It looked as though he’d run his hands through it in frustration. He held tension in his powerful body, his muscles straining against the crisp white button-down he wore.
“What’s wrong?” I asked as he stormed toward me. I didn’t shrink away, although alarm did stir at the back of my mind. I was addicted to the little thrill of fear he incited when he was on the edge of control.
He simply growled in response, closing the distance between us. His hands closed around my waist, and he lifted me up from the couch, tossing me over his shoulder. Memories of how he’d carried me out of Vicente’s wedding reception raced through my mind. He’d taken me like a prize of war.
I’d been frightened of him then. I was frightened now, but I didn’t struggle. I didn’t want to escape his harsh hands, which were firm on my upper thighs, his fingers digging into my flesh in a brutal hold. I shuddered in his grip, reveling in the dizzying cocktail of trepidation and desire mingling within me. Adrián could do anything he wanted to me, and I moaned at the prospect of being helpless under his ruthless hands. My sex pulsed, and my panties became damp with my arousal.