Page 97 of No Darker Temptation

He takes my face in his hands and kisses my forehead. “I’m not thinking of dying any time soon, mi vida. But it’s important for someone like me to have my affairs in order. Diego and Lettie have them too.”

“They do?”

He nods. “Take a look. I promise it’s not as scary as it seems.”

Hands still trembling, I remove the first document from the portfolio and skim through the pages.

“In the event of my death the house is yours. Beni, Pedro, and Rodrigo will remain as your security detail for the rest of your life.” He skims the page in tandem with me. I move to the next one. “You’ll receive a portion of my shares in the family company. Non-voting ones but they’re worth millions. And then a third of my personal assets—that’s money in the bank—to be split evenly between you, Diego, and Lettie.”

“What’s this amendment here?”

“If at the time of my death we have children or you’re pregnant, my entire portfolio, save for whatever assets are already set aside for you, goes into a trust that you and Diego will manage. My portfolio is everything; properties, businesses, controlling shares in the company. The child, or children, will become the heirs to all of it.”

My breathing slows as I continue reading. “And the rest of these additions?”

“Other, more personal things I didn’t want to leave out. A property in Mexico I want my cousins Anastasia and Belinda to inherit, my collection of vintage cars for Arias, stocks for Anthony⁠—”

“What’s with all the A names in your family? Is no one aware there are twenty-five other letters in the alphabet?”

That earns me a smile. “It’s tradition. Someone always gets an A name for my grandmother, Aurelia. Usually, the first born but not all the time.”

I move on to the next document in the portfolio which is significantly shorter so I don’t bother pulling it out. I skim the top page. “This is medical stuff.”

“If I turn into a vegetable, pull the plug.”

I snap the portfolio shut. “Please…don’t joke like that.”

All hints of humor melt away from him and he says, “If something ever happens to me, I want to make sure you’re okay. Please understand that. Dad was a young, healthy man in his prime. He didn’t think he needed a will. Luckily I was already eighteen, and Abuelo had no intention of leaving my mom unprotected but that could’ve easily gone a different way for her. If Abuelo had been killed too in the months that followed and if I was still a minor. We could’ve lost everything.”

As much as it hurts to have these difficult conversations, I understand why he feels the need to have them. They’re terrifying but necessary and I can’t say I’m not a little relieved or even touched that he would think of me this way. I hope I never have to use what’s in this portfolio but if one day I had to, it’s my safety net, and for that I’m grateful.

The sting of tears as I blink jolts me from the depths of my thoughts and I set the portfolio aside on the desk, documents and all. “I don’t have much but if something ever happened to me, I’d want you to have all of it too.”

He shakes his head. “Leave it to Karina.”

“But why? The house⁠—”

“Because if something ever happened to you, rest assured that I’m either dead or already halfway there.”

A strangled sound leaves me, a cross between laughter and unshed tears. “You’re so stupid.” I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him down to meet me. “I love you,” I whisper between kisses. “I hate you. I love you.”

His mouth is so gentle as he kisses my top and bottom lip, each corner, and then descends down the length of my neck and across my collarbone. Gripping my hips, he hoists me further onto the desk and steps between my thighs where I straddle his hips. Hooking his fingers under the flimsy straps of my nightgown, he removes them from my shoulders and lets the satin fabric glide down my body before pooling around my waist. He lets me tangle my fingers in his hair as he takes a nipple into his mouth and sucks. Stars line my vision and he nibbles and bites, causing a sting, and then licks the pain away.

Moving to the other breast, I lift my hips in search of him, of friction, but he stays mere inches out of reach just to prolong my torture. When I try to slide a hand between us, he clamps down on my breast with his teeth and I cry out.

“Be patient.”

One thing that drives me to the absolute brink of madness? His hands. My God those hands could bring a saint to sin. Just the right amount of rough while still capable of great tenderness. His open palms skim up my calves, under my knees, and over my thighs, the touch so sensual it makes me tremble. Heat gathers in intimate places, between my legs where it’s hot and slick. I feel his fingers skim the edge of my underwear then travel upward and over my lower abdomen before coming back down.

He cups me through the damp fabric of my underwear and says, “Ask me nicely.”

I hate it when he does that. I don’t have an ounce of patience in my body and he uses it to torture me.

“I highly suggest you forgo the foreplay for tonight and fuck me already.”

He drops his hand and pulls away. “We can go just go to bed⁠—”

“No! No, no, no, I’m sorry.” I dig my nails into his biceps and pull him forward. “Please.”