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“Thank you for being honest with me earlier,” he rumbled.
I bristled. “You say that like a had a choice.”
His dark eyes peered deep into my heart, laying me bare. I suppressed a shiver at the intense vulnerability that assailed me whenever he trapped me in his keen onyx gaze.
“You didn’t accept the cop’s offer for help because you were protecting me. I know what that must’ve cost you. Thank you.”
I tossed my head, freeing myself from his gentle hold on my chin. “If I’d known you would beat me as soon as Rafael dragged me home, I would’ve chosen differently.”
He blew out a heavy sigh. “We don’t have to be enemies, Isabel. I take no pleasure in causing you pain.”
I scoffed and snapped before I could think better of it. “Liar. You liked it. I could tell. I might be a virgin, but I’m not completely ignorant, Sebastián.”
My cheeks burned as soon as the words left my lips. I didn’t want to talk about his arousal. It cut too close to my own confusing physical responses to him, and I couldn’t bear to discuss that.
I stared down at the rich, dark soil beneath my feet, unable to meet his eyes. When he reached for my face again, I flinched, anticipating violence. I’d snapped back at him. There were always consequences when I lost control and spoke to a man in that tone.
He grunted and slowly withdrew his hand. “Look at me.”
Something rough about the command had my eyes lifting to his once again. They flashed with a fierce light. “I will not beat you, Isabel,” he said with the weight of an oath. “You never have to fear that from me.”
“Then what do you call it when you hit me with your belt?” I countered breathlessly, unable to control my tongue around him.
He grimaced. “I have to make sure you don’t do anything rash again. You’re my wife. I have to protect you, even if that means giving you a hard lesson. You could’ve been killed if the cartel thought you were betraying them again. I’d rather see you have a sore bottom than allow you to die.”
I scowled at him. How dare he call what he did to me protection?
“I’m not a child,” I spat. “Don’t treat me like one.”
His jaw ticked. “Then don’t act childish. I know you’ve been sheltered, but you have to understand that you’ve made dangerous choices. I won’t allow you to make any more. Whether you like it or not, I intend to keep you safe, Isabel.”
My mind spun. His reasoning was crazy. Men didn’t hit me out of some strange desire to protect me. They hit me in anger. Or in Daniel’s case, for his own sadistic amusement.
“What you’re saying is ridiculous,” I declared. “Whether you hit me with your fists or your belt, you still hit me. And you liked it.” I twisted the knife at the end.
His eyes sparked. “And so did you.”
I sucked in a gasp as the words punched my chest. I hated the reminder of my mortifying reaction to his hands on me. I didn’t understand if it was the heat of the punishment or simply his touch that aroused me, but the loss of control was shameful.
He heaved a sigh. “Let’s make an agreement. I’ll never punish you like that again if you never put yourself in danger. I’m not like the other men in your life, Isabel. I won’t beat you out of anger.”
I was shaking my head, words spilling from me before I could think clearly. “But you liked it. You’ll hurt me because you like it. Daniel enjoyed hurting me too. It’ll be the same.”
I would never be free. When Daniel died, I’d thought I might have a chance at a life of contentment. Not happiness—I’d never be foolish enough to dream for something so out of reach—but at least contentment. I’d been free to choose who I married, and I while I knew any man would want to use my fortune for his own ends, I could’ve chosen someone gentler than Sebastián Castillo.
But there was nothing rough or aggressive about how his big hand caressed my cheek, drawing my face to his. Those keen eyes pinned me in place, and his handsome features were firm with determination.
“I’m not like him, Isabel. I swear. I will never hurt you like he did. I won’t allow anyone to hurt you like that ever again.”
My eyes burned, and a stupid spark of hope flickered in my chest. I wanted so badly to believe him, but I couldn’t trust this man: my fierce husband, the cold-blooded killer who’d murdered a rival on our wedding day.
I recalled the gory scene in sharp detail, remembering the fury in his dark gaze when he’d pulverized Carlos’ face. He’d attacked the younger man to stop him from stealing me away. But that wasn’t the moment that’d made my husband turn feral. It’d been when he looked at my face, when he’d noticed the red mark where Carlos had struck me.
