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“Whoever loses sets up a billion-dollar trust fund for the kid that he or she can access at the age of eighteen.”
My blood boils. “My kid doesn’t need your money.” I can provide for my baby, and my entire fortune will be his someday. In this moment, I discover my possessiveness extends to my baby as well because I don’t even want the Cortez family to set up anything for him.
Mine—and that’s final.
“What if she falls in love with someone and you don’t approve, will you threaten to cut her off? I can’t have my future niece go through that.” Remi shakes his head. “It’ll break my heart.”
“Or what if he wants to do something else besides designing, and you might disapprove? It’s good to have a billion dollars to fall back on,” Octavius adds, and they high-five each other. “I’m in.”
“Sweet. Let’s get that in writing.” He sighs dreamily. “Now this makes me feel better.”
“Yeah, it’s fun. Good thinking, Remi.”
“Fuck both of you. I’m not going to cut off my kid for anything.” I already love the child so much it’s sometimes hard to breathe, and it’s mine.
They don’t get to step in and be the heroes.
Jimena and her baby are mine, and the world needs to finally know this.
“I have a plan,” I tell them both, and they turn serious again.
Because this plan?
It’ll fuel an already burning fire.
But then again…my woman is worth everything.
I’d burn alive for her.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“I’m not sure what most brides think on their wedding day…
But choking the groom, who’s been a thorn in your side for months, probably is not one of their thoughts.”
Jimena
Jimena
“It’s a mistake,” I whisper and sigh when the organ music fills the space, coating the energy around me in misery and doom while sending shivers down my spine as fear sinks into every cell in my body. “It’s such a mistake.” The silky wedding gown feels impossibly heavy on my body, and I scrunch my eyes when the tiny voice in my head screams for me to save myself from the inevitable misery and run far, far away while I still can.
The asshole even forced me to wear the stupid dress because he wanted this thing to look as real as possible. I wonder how real it would look if I punched him for everyone, including the press, to see.
Biting on my lower lip, though, I shake my head and take a deep breath before stepping out in the hallway, and my heart pangs painfully in my chest when I see my father waiting for me. “Pápá,” I say and muster up a smile for him.
“Mi princesa!” He comes closer and gently cups my cheeks, his scent enveloping me and urging me to find solace in the protection and love his arms have always provided. Because my dad would slay any dragon for me. Except this time around, I can’t ask him to slay a dragon because the said dragon…is myself. “You look beautiful.”
A single tear falls down my cheek, and he wipes it away with his thumb while darkness settles on his features. His brown eyes flash with worry and fury alike. “If you don’t want this, we can stop it.” His tone turns almost deadly, making me swallow hard while the music only intensifies, the loud piano notes grating on my nerves and sending tremors down my spine as they speak about my unfortunate fate. “All you have to do is tell me.”
It’s so easy, isn’t it?
Just say the words and put an end to this charade that has my misery and chaos written all over it because my upcoming marriage will destroy my soul, even if it’s fake.
How could I not when I despise the groom, and my heart cries out for another?
On instinct, I place my splayed palm on my stomach, rubbing it while warmth travels through me and my memories.
Memories that are painful in their nature, for they pull at the strings of my soul, whispering to me about a man who’s forbidden and dangerous.
