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“Fabricating a story isn’t going to get me to change my mind about letting you travel to the US. I’m not a fool.” The words are sharp and the delivery searing, but she doesn’t show any sign of backing down.
“It’s the truth. I swear on my mother’s soul.”
She’s as earnest as I’ve ever seen her. But it’s impossible.She’s just shy of twenty-five, and from what we know, Valentina’s twelve.That would have made Daniela—too damn young. Plus, we would have known if the kid was hers. We might be wrong about Valentina’s age, but how far off can we be?
Seven people are dead and a piece of iconic history destroyed. While I’m skeptical, this bombshell requires a ruthless pursuit of the truth—wherever it leads.If she’s lying, she’ll never lay eyes on that kid again. I’ll keep them separated forever, regardless of the cost. That’ll be her punishment. It’s harsh, but she’ll have earned it.
Daniela’s eyes are trained on the rug, again. She can’t even look at me.Because she’s guilty as fuck.
I lift her chin, forcing her to look me in the eye. “How old is Valentina?”
2
ANTONIO
“Twelve.” She doesn’t blink, and she doesn’t hesitate or stammer. There’s not a hitch in her voice, or anything else to suggest she’s lying.
“Twelve,” I mutter aloud, my gut gnawing like a sonofabitch. That would have made Daniela twelve when—
“She’s just a few months younger than I was when she was born.”
Her features soften, but the anguish lingers in her eyes. Her pain hits me hard, and I release my hold on her, so that I don’t do something stupid like pull her against my chest.
I remember her as a young girl atop a feisty horse, brave and spirited, eyes sparkling with light. No sorrow anywhere to be found. She was so young. So innocent.
The bile tickles my throat as the pieces form a vile picture. Abel and Tomas are up to their eyeballs in this.I’m sure of it.
That’s not the only possibility, Antonio. Don’t let a sentimental moment from more than a decade ago cloud your thinking. She’s neither young nor innocent.
While she certainly didn’t kill Isabel, Daniela would do anything for the girl. If she can convince me Valentina’s her daughter, I might let the kid come live with us. This could be another lie. Just a few weeks ago, she took a huge risk to get to the US. She’s capable of anything in that regard.
“We need to talk,Princesa.” I take her elbow and lead her to the edge of the bed. She sits, while I stand, positioning myself to assess her veracity as she speaks, like she’s a criminal I’m waiting to trap.It’s monstrous under these circumstances, but I can’t afford to be taken in by her again.
Besides, even if this new admission is true, she lied to me about Valentina. Even after several warnings and punishment that left her skin welted, she lied. She had plenty of opportunity to come clean, but she never did.
“You’re a liar,” I growl. “And you’re not going anywhere until I know the truth—every disgusting detail.”
A muffled cry twists from her lips. It lands squarely in my chest. But despite my warring emotions, I’m not prepared to grant clemency at this point. Although, the longer I watch her, the softer I’m becoming. She’s mired in grief and uncertainty, with a fragileness about her I haven’t seen since the funeral home after her father died.
I step back to put her at arms’ length and bolster my resolve.
The bed is high, and Daniela’s feet dangle well above the floor. Pale, and naked, except for a wrinkled sheet wrapped around her, she eyes me like a broken bird waiting to be eaten alive.
This is how I prefer to run interrogations. Where there’s no doubt about who holds the power.
Normally I strip away every creature comfort, leaving a prisoner better incentivized to speak truthfully.But Daniela’s not a prisoner. She’s my wife.In the end, I don’t have the stomach to question her while she’s so vulnerable.
I glance at my T-shirt on the floor. It’s exactly where I dropped it last night before dragging her to bed, and burying a myriad of tortured feelings inside her, along with my dick.She welcomed you.She embraced your pain. Offered her body as a vessel for your anguish, right on this very bed. For that alone, you owe her some decency.
I snatch the shirt from the rug. “Put this on.”
She takes it from me without balking and slips her arms through the soft cotton. It’s a simple act, not meant to provoke, but even under these conditions, everything about her is arousing. My cock twitches when she raises her arms above her head, fully exposing her breasts. All I can think about is how she looked last night as her pussy squeezed my throbbing shaft, until I gave it up for her.
The room still reeks of sex. The kind of sex that sends seasoned men to their graves with a smile. She has little experience, but the passion burns hot inside her. And nothing,nothinghas ever given me more pleasure than coaxing that passion from her, teasing her until she begs shamelessly, whimpering my name into the thick air. I could spend a lifetime worshipping her luscious body.And up until a few moments ago, I thought I would.
Stop, Antonio. Stop. You have responsibilities that are bigger than yourself. Bigger than her.If I say it enough, maybe it’ll knock some sense into me, because right now I’m having trouble focusing on what’s important—on what’s expected of me as a leader. I need to stay strong. Tough. It’s the only road to the truth.
Daniela fidgets with the T-shirt hem, her nipples beaded and her limbs covered in gooseflesh. It takes everything I have not to use my mouth and hands to warm her supple skin. But I don’t bow to those desires. Instead, I quietly offer her a velvet throw from the foot of the bed.
