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I scoffed. “Don’t hide behind noble notions of being some Principe Azul. I don’t need saving.”
The car slowed, so I stopped speaking, but he wasn’t done.
Antonio smoothed out a crease on his pant leg and leaned forward to get his winter coat. “It’s not about saving you; it’s about being smart. Making careful logical decisions is important, and you know that.”
I carefully leaned forward, mindful of my headdress, and picked up my coat. “Perhaps I wouldn’t be so contrarian if you didn’t switch your demeanor so often.”
“What does that mean?”
The car pulled to a stop, but Antonio was still watching me intently, waiting for an answer. I was interrupted by a knock on the window.
Antonio rolled his down the exact moment he rolled mine up, and we found Javier standing outside, tall and imposing. “Señor, we are going to secure the area. We will come back when it is clear.”
Antonio nodded and then said, “Knock when we can leave.”
My bodyguard nodded and then left. The sound of the shutting window grated across my skin, and I knew our conversation wasn’t over.
I took a deep breath. “We kissed.”
He raised an eyebrow. “We did.”
“You haven’t mentioned it since then.” My hands fisted, and the tension was building in my chest. How was it possible that he had turned so infuriating?
He eyed the door as if wishing it would open and free us from this conversation. “Did you want me to kiss you again?” Then, the weight of his full attention slammed back onto me.
This was unexpected.
I couldn’t breathe.
He shifted his weight closer to mine. People surrounded us, but none could penetrate where we were seated. Even so, the proposition was just as delicious as it was dangerous. It made my blood pound through my veins, and I felt powerful.
“Yes.” I angled my chin upward, and his eyes gleamed. In one swift movement, he leaned over, grabbed my chin, and turned my face so that our lips fit together perfectly.
Sensation bubbled over me, exploding across my skin and making me ache with the desire to be closer. I moved over, practically in Antonio’s lap, as his fingers slid across my skin. I let my full weight anchor us to the seat as his sweet kisses trailed down my jaw.
I was lost in him, my heart soaring with something I’d considered impossible, coming to life in the most beautiful ways. I wished time could stop so that I could freeze this happiness forever.
Then, in one heartbreaking sound, there was a soft knock.
We both froze, and Antonio moved me from his lap, pausing to smooth back a piece of my hair before opening the door. A gust of cold air was left in his wake, but I didn’t mind. My whole body was on fire—the relief was welcome.
Seconds later, Antonio was helping me out of his car, and the flashing cameras were everywhere. I averted my gaze from my mentor, knowing that if I looked at him, I would betray my feelings for Antonio, and everyone would see it. The tabloids had already married me off to Isaac, so I was on dangerous ground.
I smiled, waved, and headed toward the sizeable temporary amphitheater. One Trabajador was recording a program for the games. He was gesturing around, and I caught a part of what he was saying.
“It is so heartening to people from all life classes mixing and mingling. The Blood Tournament has such a deep cultural impact, and one of the fruits of that is commonwealth unity.”
My eyebrows furrowed. On the surface, people from all different classes mingled, united in celebration. Yet as I watched more closely, I noticed the subtle differences. The Élites wore gowns with intricate lacework and jewels, while the middle class adorned themselves in colorful but simpler attire. The few Dregs were visible were huddled near the food stalls, carefully counting out their coins for a chance to taste the rare delicacies on offer.
I just barely leaned in toward Antonio. “Did you hear that?” feeling a twinge of sadness at the divisions still so clear between us.
He nodded, smiling at someone shouting my name. “He’s not entirely wrong,” Antonio replied thoughtfully. “Tonight is about unity, even if it’s only an illusion.”
We wore dresses and shirts embroidered with the patterns typical of each Isla. My gown was a deep crimson adorned with golden roses. My hair was piled high atop my head, secured by a delicate gold headdress that shimmered like a ray of sunlight on water. I felt exposed, vulnerable, like a rose stripped of its thorns. All would see my new tattoos in a matter of minutes.
“Renata Valarde! La Chica Dorada!” fans called out as we approached, their faces alight with excitement. Reporters snapped photographs, the flashbulbs blinding, each click a reminder of the heavy mantle I now bore.
“Just breathe. Remember,” Antonio whispered, his breath warm against my ear, “this is your moment.”
