Page 23 of Vendetta

Oh my god, I almost choked to death on broccoli… in front of someone I was trying to seduce.

This was going perfectly…

Wait, what had my father just said? Lorenzo was coming here? My eyes darted to where he perched half out of his seat, concern pinching his sun-weathered face.

“Are you okay, my little Rosita? It seems Cruz is even more useful than I thought.” My father settled back into his chair, tucking his cloth napkin back over his lap.

I cleared my throat, trying to soothe the scratchy ache, and with watering eyes, I asked, “Can you repeat that?”

My father adjusted the collar of his white button-up. “Yes, I was just saying Lorenzo will be coming to visit the estate tomorrow. He’ll expect to spend some time with you.”

Fucking wonderful. Even though I didn’t really want the answer, I couldn’t help but ask, “Will his pack be coming?” An omega was usually expected to service the entire pack when claimed. Although sometimes there were exceptions, like my mother and father. And Diego and Maria, whose pack, all but Javier, died defending my family from the massacre.

“No, they won't be accompanying him. They have responsibilities elsewhere that will keep them occupied. You’ve met them before, anyway,” he replied, settling more deeply into his high-backed chair.

I didn’t remember much about the previous meeting other than they looked like street thugs and smelled like moldy laundry. They were the typical hired muscle, and I wanted nothing to do with them. “Good.”

My appetite was ruined, and so was my plan.

Not only was I at the end of my patience, I was completely humiliated. My only strategy for salvation was gone in a spatter of broccoli bits. Cruz wouldn’t take me seriously now that he’d saved me from certain death in a spray of green vegetables and spit. I groaned internally.

In order to avoid another confrontation with my father, I brushed the reminders of my choking episode from my shirt and headed for the door.

No one moved to stop me.

Chapter 16

Rosalina

The sound of tires on the cobble driveway skittered across my skin, pulling my attention from the book lying unread in my lap. I hurried to the library window and nudged the linen curtains apart a sliver. My attempt at being cute for Cruz was a smoldering pile of shit, so I was done with that, but I noticed him stifling a grin from the corner of my eye. I edged the curtains a smidge wider, in case he had any interest, and peeked outside.

The shine off Lorenzo’s rectangular forehead was nearly blinding in the tropical sunlight. He could almost be considered passable-looking if it weren't for the pinched-up scowl he wore, and his beady little pig eyes. Surely he thought he looked intimidating, but in reality, all the scowl did was make him look like he’d smashed his face on the steering wheel of the flashy red sports car he’d just stepped out of. His tacky, pointy-toed loafers scuffed across the driveway and up the entryway steps.

Who was he trying to impress with that cheap polyester suit and knock-off Rolex? It wasn't even a convincing fake. Being a decent human being would have been a thousand times more impressive than this bullshit front he was putting on for my father.

I stepped back from the window, letting the curtain fall closed, blocking out the sight of the train wreck that was my fiancé. This meeting was inevitable, and I wasn’t going to be able to avoid it much longer.

When I turned around, my dour bodyguard was straightening his already straight silk tie and looking at his shoes. If I didn’t know better, I might’ve thought he was still hiding a smirk in the shadows of that corner. He seemed amused at my discomfort, and I couldn't blame him. Me, childishly spying through a window, and my ridiculous fiancé strutting around like a rooster in heat, was plenty to laugh at. Even more reason flirting with him was off the table now. That ship had sailed, but it didn’t stop me from admiring the way he filled out his tailored suit so nicely, unlike the little weasel who had just walked through the front door.

Muffled voices echoed down the mellow plaster walls of the villa, but were growing fainter. Father was probably trying to soften him up with whiskey and cigars in his office, but I wanted to get this over with. I rubbed my damp palms on my denim-clad thighs and took a deep breath. I could do this.

“Let’s go, bodyguard,” I said before marching out of the double doors in my fluffy socks.

Something dressier might have been a better idea, but I wanted to meet Lorenzo on my own terms, wearing something comfortable. Something defensible. Snug denim jeans and a T-shirt would stop wandering hands more easily than a sundress would. Just in case he got any ideas.

The further down the hall I went, the more nervous I got. My pulse sped up, pounding like a drum in my throat, and I sucked in gulps of air in short gasps. Fuck, fuck, fuck. This was not the time for a panic attack. I glanced over my shoulder, and Cruz’s dark brow rose in question. If I turned around and ran back to my room, would he let me go? He probably would, but I wasn’t willing to show Lorenzo any fear.

“Hey.” His deep voice rolled over me like liquid velvet, and my heart instantly slowed to a soft pitter-patter. “Are you all right?” He prowled closer, and his heavenly sandalwood scent soothed me to my core.

I looked up into the depths of his midnight eyes, falling into an abyss of protection and comfort. Why did he make me feel so safe, like nothing could ever hurt me again?

Slowly, he brushed a wisp of my dark hair behind my ear. His touch lingered against my skin longer than would ever be considered appropriate. “I got you.”

His growled words steeled my resolve, and I reluctantly turned away, heading down the hall to my father’s office. Shouts erupted from behind the closed door. My feet froze, not wanting to interrupt the heated conversation, but also, I was curious as to what they were saying. Cruz fell back, keeping a respectful distance. As an alpha, his hearing was heightened, but at least he was trying not to hear the confrontation.

It was not good.

The words were muffled by the door, but clear enough that I was reasonably sure Lorenzo was threatening not to help unless I was ready and willing to kneel for him.