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I bit back a groan. She wanted me to take her virginity.
The wait for Ronaldo to die was going to kill me.
“I’ll make sure you’re ready for me,” I promised roughly, my lust for her setting my teeth on edge.
“Okay,” she breathed.
Her touch skimmed over my abs, her fingers fumbling at the button on my jeans.
I grabbed her hand, jerking her away more roughly than I intended.
She peeked up at me, her eyes tight with uncertainty. “Do you want to be the one to do that? I can take off my dress, if that’s better for you?”
Jesus. She wanted to do this right now.
“I can’t—” I cut myself off before I said I can’t fuck you. That language was too crass for her first time, and I would have to let her down gently. I didn’t want her to think I was rejecting her by delaying.
“We can’t have sex,” I said instead. “Not today.”
“What?” A wrinkle appeared between her brows. “Don’t you…Don’t you want me?”
“I want you more than anything, sweet Sofia,” I promised, pressing my hard-on against her for emphasis. “But I can’t take your virginity yet.”
The wrinkle drew deeper. “How do you know I’m a virgin? And what do you mean by yet?”
“Your engagement to Ronaldo is the answer to both of those questions.” I couldn’t help the anger that bled into my tone. The fact that Ronaldo thought he still had a claim on her made me see red.
“Engagement?” She pulled back, putting a few inches of space between our bodies. “What are you talking about?”
All the air was knocked from my chest. “You don’t know?”
“Know what?” she demanded, her voice growing louder with her own anger and a note of fear. “Who is Ronaldo?”
“That fucking bastard,” I seethed. My hatred of Caesar was poison in my veins, a burning sickness driving me to the brink of sanity.
He’d sold Sofia to Ronaldo without asking for her consent. Without even telling her it was a done deal.
She scooted away from me, her lovely eyes wide with panic. “Explain what’s happening. Right now, Mateo!” she shouted when I didn’t answer immediately.
“You’re engaged.” I couldn’t help snarling the words.
“Are you crazy?” she demanded shrilly. “Trust me, I would know if I was engaged. I’ve never even had a serious boyfriend.”
“That’s because your piece of shit father didn’t tell you, apparently,” I barked. “He arranged for you to marry Pedro Ronaldo.”
Her head shook back and forth, her curls swaying wildly. “I don’t know anybody named Pedro Ronaldo.”
I spat a curse, rage at Caesar riding me hard. “Ronaldo controls one of the Mexican cartels that traffics our product into the States. Caesar arranged the marriage six months ago. I assumed you’d agreed to it.”
“Why would I agree to marry someone I’ve never met? Daddy was going to hook me up with a drug lord?” She shook her head more forcefully. “This is insane. It’s not true.”
“That’s what you said when I told you that your father had kidnapped Valentina,” I reminded her harshly, my tenuous hold on my anger slipping in response to her disgust at the idea of being with a drug lord.
Sofia seemed to keep forgetting that I was a criminal, just like her father. Just like Ronaldo.
She paled, her jaw going slack. My cruel retort had shocked her like a slap to the face.
“I won’t do it,” she said on a horrified whisper. “I’m not going to marry a stranger.”
“No,” I agreed, some of my ire fading. “You’re not going to marry Ronaldo. He’ll be dead soon, and then, there won’t be anything to keep you from me.”
Her eyes met mine, the horror focused in my direction. “Dead?” she repeated. “Why will he be dead? I’ll just tell him I won’t marry him.”
“That’s not how this works, belleza.” I tried for a gentler tone. “If your father cared about your opinion on the matter, he would have asked you.”
She pushed off the bed, standing on shaky legs. “You knew about this.” It wasn’t a question. It was an accusation. “You knew I was engaged, and you…touched me anyway. Because…” She swallowed, as though fighting down nausea. “Because you knew Ronaldo would be dead soon. What if I had wanted to marry him?”
“But you don’t want to marry him,” I snapped, knowing that she wouldn’t like my truthful response: that I didn’t give a fuck if she wanted to marry Ronaldo. As soon as I’d taken her as my hostage, her fate had been sealed.
“You said we couldn’t have sex because I’m engaged,” she continued, as though I hadn’t responded. “But if you know I’m not going to marry him, why does that matter? Why did you say we couldn’t have sex yet?”
She was picking at this, her mind wading through her horror and anger to seek out an answer I didn’t want to give her.
