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“I’m sorry.” Her voice broke on the apology, the words shaking almost as violently as her willowy frame. My fingernails bit into my palms. I wouldn’t comfort her. She wasn’t innocent.
He cocked his head at her. “I know you’re sorry that you got caught. I don’t know if you’re sorry for putting my cartel in jeopardy. No, I don’t think you are sorry for that,” he continued on before she could offer a protest.
His sharp eyes cut to me. “You took responsibility for her once before, Sebastián. So, I’m making her your responsibility. Permanently. You will oversee the Vera family fortune and keep her in line. You will marry Isabel.”
“No.” The refusal burst from my chest before I could consider the wisdom of defying my boss. I didn’t want to be anywhere near the little traitor with the bewitching eyes. I couldn’t trust myself around her. She fucked with my instincts and my judgment.
Marry her? Fuck no.
“I’m nearly twice her age,” I growled. “Find someone else to keep her in line.”
A cruel smile tilted Stefano’s lips, but no humor reached his eyes. “As her husband, I’m sure you’ll be more than capable of disciplining your wife when necessary. I’m not asking, Sebastián,” he warned.
“Please,” Isabel squeaked as she edged away from me. Her cheeks were unnaturally pale, and she looked like she might vomit at the prospect of being my bride.
The idea made me sick too. I couldn’t spend the rest of my life looking into those eyes. I’d go mad.
“I don’t want to marry him,” she gasped, tears streaming down her face. “I’m sorry I wrote that blog post. I am.”
“Yes, I know you’re sorry now,” Stefano said, his pitiless gaze sweeping to me. “You will marry.”
I swallowed a snarl, forcing my body to stillness when all I wanted to do was attack the bastard. I’d expected to be punished, maybe even killed. But I never could’ve predicted this particularly cruel judgment.
My boss didn’t know about my past; he didn’t know why I loathed the idea of being permanently tied to Isabel and her haunting eyes. But my barely concealed rage seemed to satisfy his need to punish us both. Others in the cartel might see my possession of Isabel Vera as a gift, but Stefano knew better. We would both suffer in this marriage.
Marriage. To Isabel. The young woman who’d squirmed in my lap when I’d spanked her. The bewitching beauty who’d made me lose my senses when the tantalizing scent of her arousal lured me into maddened desire.
I gritted my teeth, steeling my resolve. I might have to share a home with her, but I wouldn’t have to share her bed. That mansion she lived in was massive, and since I was to take control of the Vera’s wealth, it would only make sense for me to move into the property. I would take a room as far from hers as possible.
Somehow, I would avoid her. I wouldn’t have to look into her entrancing eyes, be surrounded by her gentle lavender scent.
I wouldn’t have to withstand the fucking idiotic impulse to comfort her when she cried, an impulse I was currently resisting. She trembled next to me, her face buried in her hands as tears streamed over her fingers.
My control snapped when her shaking knees gave out, and she sank to the floor on a harsh sob.
A low curse dropped from my lips, and my hands were bracketing her waist before I knew what I was doing. The slight flare of her hips was an aching reminder of how fragile and feminine she was, and my touch gentled as though she might shatter if I gripped her too firmly.
“I look forward to attending your wedding,” Stefano announced. “I expect it to be lavish. Invite all of the Vera family’s many friends.” He wanted witnesses to her humiliation, a clear message to anyone who might consider defying him. Stefano ruled our cartel because he was wickedly clever, not through brute force. He didn’t have to spill blood to make a point. “You have one week. Then I expect you to be man and wife. Understood?”
“Yes,” I hissed through gritted teeth. Something twisted inside me when Isabel’s slight frame convulsed on another sob.
The prospect of being my wife repulsed her. I couldn’t blame her. I was practically an old man compared to her. She would hate me for this. Dread sank in my gut as the awful future yawned before me: years of misery trapped in a marriage with a woman who loathed me.
I lifted her to her feet, but she swayed before I could release her. A growl slipped from my chest. I couldn’t carry her out of here. I couldn’t cradle her to my chest and endure her crying against me. I’d fall back under her spell, deluded into thinking I was her protector.
