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“Wait!” she gasped out. “Andrés, wait. Please.”
The tremor in her voice stopped me in my tracks. I could grab her in a few long strides, but her fear froze me in place.
“You’re upset,” she said quickly. “I don’t like it when you’re like this. You scare me. Please, don’t…don’t hurt me.” Her crestfallen, betrayed expression made my soul ache.
A low, feral sound rumbled from my chest, and my fists clenched at my sides.
“Please. Talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong. What happened? Is it your brother? What did he—?”
“Of course it’s my brother!” I shouted. She cringed, but that didn’t stop me from closing the distance between us and grabbing her upper arms. I pulled her body against mine, snarling down at her when she tried to twist out of my grip. “He wants to see you. He expects you to be ready by now. But you’re not. I’ve been too soft with you.”
“You haven’t,” she squeaked, desperate. “You don’t have to hurt me.”
“I don’t want to hurt you,” I bellowed. “He does. Why can’t you understand that? I’m not the one who wants to break you. I want to save you. I want to protect you. I can’t do that if you continue to defy me.”
“I haven’t defied you,” she gasped, shuddering in my grip. “I’ve done everything you’ve asked.”
“No,” I railed, shaking her hard. “I’ve given you everything you’ve asked. I’ve tried to make you happy here with me. I’ve indulged you and played with you when I was supposed to be training you. And now he wants to see you, and you’re not ready.”
“I am,” she insisted, her voice shaking with terror.
“Don’t lie to me, Samantha,” I warned on a growl. “You think you can manipulate me with your pretty tears? You think I’ll do anything you ask if you smile for me? I won’t allow you to play games with me. I’m in control. You belong to me.”
“You’re not in control.” Her pretty eyes began to shine. “You’re scaring me. You’re hurting me.”
I realized my fingers were digging into her upper arms with bruising force, but I couldn’t release her.
My heart stuttered when her expression softened, and she reached out to cup my scarred cheek. She’d never touched my face with tenderness. No one had. I flinched as keen, unbearable emotion assailed me.
She didn’t relent; she pressed her palm against my scar. The sensation of her tangible touch around the damaged tissue was exquisite torment.
“Talk to me,” she begged. “Tell me what happened.”
“What happened is my brother takes everything from me,” I said on a harsh whisper. “Abuela, Valentina. Now, he wants to take you.” I pulled her closer, until my face was an inch from hers. She filled my entire vision, my entire world. “He can’t have you. You’re mine.”
“Yes,” she agreed softly. “I’m yours. I’m not going anywhere. You won’t let Cristian take me away. I…I trust you.”
She traced the line of my scar with her fingertips, there was little physical sensation in my damaged nerve endings, but I felt the light touch deep in my soul. I shuddered and leaned into her hand.
My hold on her arms eased, and I embraced her, cradling her body carefully against mine.
“Sirenita,” I rasped, strained. “Lo siento.” I turned my face into her palm, kissing it in contrition.
“What happened to them?” she whispered. “The people your brother took from you. Your grandmother
and sister.”
My lips thinned in a grimace, but I didn’t tighten my arms around her. My Samantha was precious and fragile, and I’d handled her too roughly. I’d scared her. I kissed her palm again, placing my trust in her.
I braced myself for pain, and my confession tumbled from my lips. “Valentina…” My voice hitched on her name. “My sister. Half-sister. Cristian and I share the same father as Valentina. Our father kept her mother as his mistress after our mother passed away, but she died giving birth to Valentina. Father let Valentina’s grandmother live on our estate, so she could care for her. Valentina was my best friend. Her grandmother became mí abuela. I spent more time in their home than my own. Cristian was always jealous of our friendship, our little family. As the oldest, father was harder on him. He had more responsibilities, a legacy resting on his shoulders.”
I understood why my brother possessed such sadistic tendencies. He’d learned them from my father at a young age. That knowledge didn’t erase the years of torment I’d suffered at his cruel hands.
“Your father dealt in cocaine,” Samantha prompted gently, pressing me to continue. “He wanted Cristian to take over the business?”
“Yes. But then father died when I was sixteen. Heart attack.”
“I’m sorry.”
