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4
ISABELLA
The sight of the Gonzalez compound ahead of us, barely visible through the tinted windows of the SUV at night, steals the last shred of hope I had from me.
I don’t know what I thought would happen. I’d hoped my father’s men would chase down Diego’s convoy, maybe, steal me back and take me home. It was a foolish thought, a foolish hope.
I’ve been a fool all along. And now it’s time to face the consequences.
When the SUV comes to a stop in front of the main house, the doors open, and I’m immediately grabbed by two of Diego’s men and hauled out. More of my dress rips, gems scattering to the dusty gravel beneath me, and one of my shoes catches on the door, yanking it off my foot. I let out a cry as the strap scrapes across my skin, abrading it, but no one seems to care—about the torn dress, the scattered gems, or me.
I’m nothing to them. Nothing to Diego, either—except for a toy. Something to play with, amuse himself with, until I break.
That’s what he wants. Me, broken and biddable, his conquest. The eldest daughter of the great Santiago family, their princess, on her knees in front of him. Begging.
I have to keep that from happening. I have to stay strong, somehow, keep him from breaking me entirely while still pacifying him, until someone comes to save me.
What if no one is coming, Isabella? What then?
“You’re home now, princess,” Diego says with a cruel smirk as his men hold me for him to look at, his thick finger running along my jaw. “Myhome. So come and meet the family.”
My stomach twists with fear and revulsion as he thumbs my lower lip, pressing down on the soft flesh, and then thankfully jerks his hand away. He reaches down, gripping my left hand in his so hard that the ring on my finger bites into my flesh and pulls me forward with him as we walk up the steps to the grand mansion in front of us.
The wide front doors open, revealing a thick woven rug over stone floors and buttery warm light filling it, a house that looks far too beautiful to belong to such an unpleasant man. Two women are standing at the entrance, both looking about the same late middle age, one stout and plump and the other tall and painfully thin, with her wiry greying hair pulled back in a tight updo and a pinched look on her face. Next to her is a cruel-looking man with Diego’s features, more handsome than Diego and in better shape, but with a leering expression on his face as he catches sight of me that makes me feel sick all over again. Next to him are two more women, one who looks only slightly older than me, with a young boy standing next to her—very beautiful, but with a fearful face, and a blank-faced girl that looks about Elena’s age.
“Introductions.” Diego claps his hands together, straightening as he lets mine go for a moment, and I bite my tongue to keep from whimpering in pain as the blood rushes back to my fingers. “My mother, Renata Gonzalez—” he gestures to the pinch-faced woman, “and our housekeeper of two generations, Maria. My mother runs this household, and you will answer to her in all things as you learn to do the same as my wife. It’s clear from your behavior tonight that the Santiago family, for all their wealth and supposed breeding, did not raise you to be the kind of woman capable of running a decent household. You will learn how things are run from my mother and Maria.”
He gestures then to the other man. “Juan Gonzalez, my brother, his wife, Lia, and their son Luis. Until you give me an appropriate heir, Isabella, he is the Gonzalez heir. I expect that will change within the year.” Diego gives me a smirk, his eyes raking over my tight bodice and torn skirt. “You’ve shown yourself to be quite wanton, Isabella. I expect I will enjoy making a son with you.”
I have to bite my tongue to keep the nausea that wells up at bay as he gestures to the last family member, the blank-faced girl who looks younger than me. “My sister, Lucia,” Diego says. “She will make sure that you have everything you need.” His smirk only deepens as he says it, and I know exactly what’s going on.
His sister is going to act as my maid, both to torture me and to spy on me. She’ll resent me and hate every second, which means she’ll make my life even more miserable than it already is, and anything I say or do will be reported back to Diego.
The look of pinched disapproval on his mother’s face, and the outright hatred on his brother and sister-in-law’s faces, round out the realization that I’ve truly stumbled into hell. Not only do I have a cruel fiancé who will make it his singular goal to punish me for what I’ve denied him, but his family will be in on it.
I’m not wanted here. Not by anyone, really. The only reason Diego wants me here is to hurt my father—and me.
“We’ll show her to her room,” Renata says primly, her lips pursing together with obvious distaste. “The one upstairs will do.”
“In a moment.” Diego grips my elbow, the same one my father held onto so tightly earlier, and I wince as his fingers dig deeper into the bruises. He drags me past the family, into the wide entryway of the house that opens out into the various rooms, and looks down at me with narrowed dark eyes and a satisfied expression on his face.
“I know you’re thinking of escaping, little one,” he says in a low growl, his hand tightening painfully. “I know you think someone is coming for you, but no one is. Your father knows better, and soon your Irishman will be dead. You’re only putting your family in danger, and yourself through more suffering, if you struggle. But I hope you struggle, princess, because that only means I need no excuses for everything I want to do.” His tongue flicks out, running over his lower lip as his eyes skate down my body, and I jerk backward. I can’t help it.
“I hate you,” I hiss, and Diego laughs.
“Of course you do. You’ll hate me even more by the time we’re wed. But be that as it may, Isabella, we’ll be married as soon as I can arrange to have it done properly. Your lost virginity will be our little secret, and if I have my way, I’ll be putting my son in your belly before your Irishman’s blood has cooled on the ground where he falls. No one will ever know what happened between the two of you. Your father will never tell; it would only shame him if others knew.” He leans closer, his breath hot on my ear as his lips graze my cheek, and I have to swallow down another wave of nausea as I physically recoil from him. “But I know, princess. I know what a little whore you are. So you will behave for me, or I’ll send you away to learn your proper place. And if that isn’t enough, well—” He pulls back, shrugging. “Maybe I’ll decide to take your sister as a mistress and make you see how I hurt her. You would be a proper wife then, wouldn’t you?”
“Stop it,” I hiss, my eyes filling with tears. “My father will never let you near Elena.”
Diego shrugs. “Maybe not. But the threat is enough, isn’t it?”
“Nothing will ever be enough to make me beg for you.” I rear back, intending to spit in his face, but he once again moves faster than I expected.
The crack of his hand across my cheek startles me, the pain blooming there as my head snaps to one side. “I don’t want to blemish you, my pretty bride,” Diego croons. “That was to let you know how serious I am. But there are more painful ways to hurt you in places that won’t show.”
He jerks me back towards where his mother is waiting, keeping me close by his side. “Go upstairs and get some sleep, princess,” he says, releasing my elbow and making me gasp with pain. “Don’t get any ideas about escape, either. You’ll be far too high up, and my guards will catch you. Maybe I’ll reward them if they do. After all, your virginity can’t be lost twice.”
Diego winks at me then, and I look at his mother, his sister, expecting some reaction. But there’s nothing. His mother pushes me forward towards the stairs, close on my heels.
