Page 14 of When Sinners Hate

“You can’t make me–” I stop towelling down my hair and bring my stare back to her.

“I think you know I can. Keep trying my patience and you’ll find out how bad this might get for you.” My gaze drops down to her open mouth, and my own lips tip up at the potential that offers me. “You’ve been relatively good, Alexia. I suggest you remain that way unless you’d like to join one of our training camps. Women seem to learn quickly enough while they're there.”

We’re eye to eye. Both naked. And both trying to come to terms with our situation. The silence carries on while she thinks about the possibility I could force on her. Good. She should think hard because the facts are very real. They're cruel and savage and barbaric, especially with the women that fight.

Eventually, her eyes dip back to the floor. “You’re enjoying this.”

I walk out of the room and point to a spot where I want her. “You don’t get enough thought for me to enjoy you. Get on the floor.”

I look back as I’m pulling my pants on, and watch as she slowly, painfully lowers her ass to the floor. “On your knees.” She grimaces, winces, and turns her body, shifting herself until she’s perched there like a common whore.

I pull my shirt on, tucking it in and then doing up my belt. “Is this what you wanted from me? Are you satisfied?” She frowns and keeps looking at the floor. I sit and reach for my shoes. “I suppose you're right. We’ve got it out of the way now.” Her eyes look up at me, nothing but hate shining from them suddenly. I thread my cufflinks into place, then reach for my jacket with a sigh. “Hate is good. It makes you strong, which makes you useful as a Cortez.” I don’t mind her hating me at all. What else did either of us think this would be? I'd rather the reality of that than this pretence we're in. “But use it wisely, Alexia, because if respect doesn’t come with it, your life here will be miserable.”

She doesn’t even flinch at the sound of that. She just dips her head back to the floor again and stares at it. I’d like to think she’s learnt a lesson, but she’s too arrogant for that just yet.

I walk to her, picking up her chin so I can stare into those eyes. I like her fight, in all honesty. I find it provocative and stimulating, and perhaps, later down the line, we will find a balance in that. Until then, she has to be at heel. She has to toe the line and act like I need her to if I'm to bend for her at all.

Her chin gets dropped away, and my fingers run lightly over her silken cheek as I move for the door. “I'll be back to pick you up tomorrow. Remember what happened here. You forced this on yourself. You asked me for this.”

I leave with nothing more. I have work to do, and whatever this has been, and wherever it goes from here, we’ll probably have this argument again at some point soon.

She won’t win that one, either.

CHAPTER SIX

ALEXIA

I’m left, and for a split second, I’m grateful for the reprieve. My limbs ache, and my body screams, but it’s the noise in my head that shouts the loudest. The vows I gave myself – the promises I made are all lying in tatters, like my dress on the floor.

It’s been years, and after all this time, my future husband is the one to bring me to my knees. Up until tonight, we were in a game – a dangerous one – but still a game. We both knew this, and I, as I’ve done so many times before, won.

But not tonight.

I drag myself up and tread softly across to the bathroom. I keep the lights off and run a washcloth under the faucet. False illumination won’t show me anything I’ve not seen before, and I need to keep the memories blurred and fuzzy in my mind. Because no matter how much I hurt or how humiliated I feel, this is only the beginning.

With gentle hands, I wash the cloth over my skin and between my legs. I rinse it out and enjoy the relief of the wateron my skin. As I place it back in the sink, I notice two torn-off fingernails.

I take a glass and fill it with water to quench my dry throat. Tears sting my eyes and burn my chest as I fight to keep them in. I’ve been so strong – so controlled – against the likes of men like Abel Cortez that I’ve forgotten how this feels. I’ve proudly hung words like powerful, independent and confident around my neck and worn them like armour, each year adding to the protection against the sharks in this world. Sharks my father swam with and even baited the water for. And now, confident in seeking our revenge and being able to manipulate and coerce as I’ve done for years, I’m at a disadvantage because Abel isn’t like other men. He’s not a shark.

He’s far more deadly.

Hate.

There aren’t many in this world I’d describe as hating. It’s always felt like an ugly, vengeful word – unsophisticated and raw. Not an emotion associated with my actions. But after tonight, it infects me like poison and flows through my veins. It crystalises, straightening my spine and hardening me for what I now see coming.

I hate Abel Cortez – the man I’m meant to marry. He’s the man whom I’m supposed to seek my revenge from, but as I lie on the sofa – I can’t face the bed yet – all I can think of is how deep this well of coldness inside me can grow.

~

The morning arrives, and my body is stiff from remaining still for much of the night. I couldn’t sleep – my mind raced with regrets and sorrow, and now, it’s hard to recognise the woman who marched into this place with her own plans.

Last night Abel saw me at my weakest, and while I’m still licking my wounds, I don’t want him to see me as defeated. I’m not. I’ll never be that. But I do need some time to form a new plan.

The schedule for today involves wedding dress shopping. A delight for many a bride, but alas, I can’t count myself amongst them. Before I can face any member of the Cortez family, I have to make some adjustments to my appearance.

The light of the morning shows the true damage Abel inflicted last night, not that he’ll care to see it, but I don’t want others to see my weakness. I cut all of my nails, file and re-apply some polish. It’s a temporary fix, but one I can rectify with Jamie’s visit. I’ll ask her to bring her nail technician with her, too. Next, I fix the dark shadows under my eyes, hide the finger bruising on my neck, and choose an appropriately dressy outfit that makes me look as tempting as I know I am but also shows less skin than I’ve done so far.

An hour later, I go downstairs for breakfast.