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But this…
She brought the police to my house. She wanted me dragged away in chains, caged like an animal.
A feral roar ripped from my chest as something inside me withered and died; an anguished bellow of loss.
Everything had been a lie. Her sweet sighs, her tender touches, her soft submission.
I’d known I shouldn’t believe her lies, but I was too weak to resist temptation. Like a pathetic, needy child, I’d craved for our connection to be real. The false light in her eyes that had entranced me—when she looked at me as though she saw something good in me—had been my undoing.
A cold, maddened laugh encased my body in ice.
Evil was in my blood. It was embedded in my soul, and I’d known that irrevocable truth forever. It was etched into even my earliest memories: the deep, inherent knowledge that I’d been born a monster.
Allowing myself to pretend otherwise with Marisol was the greatest shame of my life.
Evil was my strength. It’d kept me alive and made me powerful. Untouchable.
And I’d let my ridiculous infatuation with a frail, deceptive woman to strip me down to nothing.
I raked both hands through my hair, scoring my scalp as though I could claw the treacherous images of her sweet smile from my mind.
I will not let her ruin me.
I’ll ruin her.
She would pay for what she’d done to me.
Moving with savage purpose, I threw myself into the SUV and tore back down the drive. Cruel punishments for Marisol rattled through my mind, but the shameful memory of my cowardice when facing the police danced around the edges of those ruthless plans.
I had to do immediate damage control.
“Fuck!” My fist released its white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel to punch the dashboard. I was going to have to reveal my lie to Stefano. He’d find out about the blog post soon enough. He’d know that I’d been keeping Marisol at my house, when I was supposed to have brought her to Carmen.
There was another call I had to make first. I needed to at least be able to inform Stefano that I was doing what I could to clean up the mess I’d made.
Sebastián Castillo answered on the first ring. “Yes?”
“I need you to pick up Isabel Vera.” I didn’t waste time providing an explanation, and I knew I could rely on Sebastián. He wouldn’t question me. “Find her, and do whatever it takes to confine her. Stefano will want to talk to her very soon.”
“Okay, boss.”
I ended the call, confident that he’d handle the other little traitor in our organization.
My fingers twisted around the steering wheel, itching for an outlet for the aggression that churned just beneath my skin.
I gritted my teeth and forced myself to make the call to Stefano. If he chose to kill me for this, I hoped he’d at least hold off for a few hours. Better yet, several days; long enough to allow me time to make Marisol thoroughly regret crossing me.
“Raúl. To what do I owe the pleasure?” Stefano greeted me with his usual deceptively delighted tone. He wouldn’t be bothering with the pretense once I made my confession.
“The police just showed up at my house.” Each word dropped from my tongue as a shard of ice. “They want to ask me questions about some fucking vigilante blog post. Apparently, there’s a detailed account about my recent activities. We need to do damage control.”
Stefano allowed a long moment of silence, stretching the tension between us. “I’ve heard of that blog. How did you end up featured on it? You’re not usually the talkative type.” He said it like an offhand, rueful comment, but I knew him well enough to understand his mind games.
“I wasn’t the one who talked. Isabel Vera posted the information. I’ve sent Sebastián to pick her up. He’ll hold her until you can deal with her.” I made sure to present this aspect of my early efforts at resolution before telling him about Marisol.
His regretful sigh sounded through the phone. “Good. That gives me time to start applying pressure on the right people and placing some strategic bribes. We can make this go away, my friend. I’ll handle it.”
His icy tone very clearly reminded me that I wasn’t his friend. I was his ally, but I’d fucked up. I’d threatened the stability of our business.
Although I’d already braced myself for it, my stomach dropped at his next casual question.
“What was the topic of Isabel’s little exposé?”
“Marisol.” I hissed out my admission through gritted teeth. “She’s with me, at my house. I invited Isabel to come visit her, and they must’ve planned this together as soon as my back was turned.” I hesitated for a beat before pressing on. “Marisol’s been with me for nearly three weeks. Apparently, the blog post provides details.”
Silence.
He let me stew in it, forcing me to languor in the knowledge that my life was on the line.
