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“My mother could never leave my father.” He steps back, throwing my hair behind my shoulders, and the emeralds feel so heavy on my ears, unused to any weight on them. “He was wealthy and famous, and she was a naive fool who fell in love with his looks. Too bad his soul was too rotten to cherish her. Whenever she wanted a divorce, he reminded her she had nothing to her name.” I rub my forehead. One might get whiplash from him changing subjects so quickly. “She had to sign a prenup before marrying him. All women in our dynasty do.”
“Except Madrina Calliope. Padrino Jacob never allowed for her to sign anything.”
I don’t know much about their romance, except that he was a divorced single dad since Florian’s mother ran away with her lover, and Calliope worked for them as a nanny for a few weeks before he married her. It was a huge scandal. Atlas didn’t approve. In fact, he threatened to disown his son but accepted the union when Jacob chose his wife above anything and anyone.
Clearly, the Price family loves to taste the forbidden fruit.
“Yes. Calliope managed the impossible. To have a loving, long-lasting, faithful marriage with a Price. She bewitched him, that sneaky creature.” He huffs again while Jimena rolls her eyes, but despite the heat in his words, there is a certain warmth when he speaks about his daughter-in-law.
“I’m so sorry about your mom,” I tell him. It must have been awful to grow up in that.
Not awful enough for him to be a faithful husband, though.
“Yes. It taught me a valuable lesson. A woman should always have a means to escape if she wants to.”
“I agree.”
“You’re broke. If you marry a wealthy man, you won’t have shit compared to him.” And we’re back to being brutally honest. “Don’t you worry, though.” He palms my cheeks and pats them. “Grandpa Atlas took care of that. No matter what happens, you’ll always have these emeralds. Consider it a welcoming gift, Isla.”
I haven’t felt a family’s warmth for so long, and right now, a sense of gratitude envelops me toward this difficult and complicated man who lives by his rules yet manages to love his family. “Thank you,” I whisper through my clogged throat, and he pats my cheeks again. “I have no plans to marry a wealthy man.”
“Ah, darling. Plans mean nothing when they’re met with determination.” He winks at me, and Jimena chuckles just as Atlas spins me around. All thoughts fly from my mind while heat zips all over me at the sight of the handsome and furious man marching toward me, his suit jacket long gone, and the veins on his arms stand out more with his sleeves rolled up.
When God created him, he gave him all the qualities that signal my downfall because I’m ready to run to him and wrap myself around him.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” And just like that, he ruins the mood once again.
“Having fun,” I reply, grabbing a grape from the nearby table and popping it in my mouth. His eyes darken when he focuses on my lips, and hotness washes over me, the dress tightening more on me as fire travels all over my system. “Seems to be the theme of the party.” I hook a strand of my hair behind my ear, touching the earrings. “Even got a gift.” The next grape slips through my fingers when he grabs me by the elbow, ready to drag me somewhere once freaking again, and I’ve had it. “Let go, or I’ll scream.” It’s an empty threat because the last thing I want is to cause a scene and be the headline of this event.
Instead of answering me, he addresses Atlas, who stands behind me and sips his whiskey. “Grandpa Atlas.”
“Yes?”
“No one gifts my woman jewelry but me. Expect a blank check in the morning. Write any amount and cash it in whenever.”
He toasts to us, and I barely have the chance to glare at him as Octavius keeps his tight grip on me and pushes us through the gaping crowd to the hallway. I hiss, “Stop it, Octavius.”
He doesn’t listen, just moves toward somewhere, and finally, we reach a massive door, and he gets us inside before shutting it.
Or rather an office, judging by the desk, bookshelves, and various machines all around us. “I’m tired of you manhandling me. That’s our fourth meeting, and in the span of one night, you managed to do that twice!” I cross my arms as he rests his back against the door and watches me with hooded eyes. “If you have a problem with me being here, you can blame the Price family.” He behaves like a caveman one minute and then treats me like a pesky insect, confusing and hurting me in the process. “This is the last time, Octavius. You might be powerful but you’re not immune.” One more empty threat, it’s not like I can ask anyone for help.
Well, maybe Callum…
“You look stunning.” I still, and while it should shoot joy all over me, instead it makes me tense because his voice is gruff and displeased. “I fucking hate this dress.”
“You can blame the Price family for that as well.” I applaud myself for keeping my tone even despite him managing to hurt me once again. “If you’re done berating me for the night, I’d like to—”
“I hate it because now everyone sees what I see.”
“What do you see?”
“Beauty. Grace. Sensuality. A body that belongs to me, yet every fucking man now can stare at it.” My cheeks heat while the air sticks in my lungs when his voice turns deeper. He pushes off the door, coming closer to me, and the familiar haze falling on us threatens to suffocate me. “Appreciate it. Long for it and crave it. So I fucking hate this dress because it shows off what’s mine, and no one has the right to lust after my woman. No one but me.” He cups my nape and drags me to him. “It’s selfish, but I don’t care. I found you first. They don’t get to even dream about you. They’ll never have the chance to indulge in their fantasies anyway.” He leans closer, his chin gracing my bare shoulder, and I clench his shirt while my eyes close. “I’d kill them all before they get the chance to touch you.” His fingers glide over my arm as he presses his mouth to my neck, sucking on the flesh and awakening a burning sensation within me, ready to erupt at any moment. “Because you’re mine.”
His touch and voice almost hypnotize me. It’s akin to the sweetest music luring me to the edge of a cliff while promising pleasure and euphoria as long as I trust it.
I want to soak up his nearness and let it soothe all the wounds, but another voice, harsher and cold, penetrates the fog, snapping me out of this moment and making me push at his chest hard.
You were a great lay, kitten.
