Page 20 of When Sinners Hate
“The marriage was arranged. This is a business partnership.”
“So romantic.”
“I thought I’d explained that already, or do you need another lesson.” His hiss imparts all the threat I need, but something has shifted between us, and I won’t allow that kind of treatment again.
“No. And I won’t allow another episode like our first time. Never again. It’s a vow I made to myself before, and you made me break that. But not for a second time.” I move my position to look at him, hoping he can see past the vengeance and hate and see the seriousness behind my words. “I mean it, Abel.”
My brilliant smile is an act for onlookers, but for a second, I think I see interest in his eyes. Words cease, and we continue the show of our happy first dance. Abel’s mask is less than perfect. The crease in his brow is a near-constant feature, showing me he's at least thinking, but he doesn’t miss a step.
Finally, the music ends, and I slide from his grip, but instead of heading to the sidelines, I catch Dante with Wren amongst the guests. It might be time for a little fun. I walk over to him and extend my arm. He just looks at it and then back at me. Wren nudges him with her elbow, which earns her a scowl.
“Come on, Dante. You can’t deny the bride a dance on her wedding day,” I tease.
“Like fuck I can’t.”
“Dante!” Wren steps in, and there’s a silent conversation between them as they look at each other.
He doesn’t say a word but does eventually lead me onto the dance floor and proceeds to dance. It's not as formal as with Abel. His body might be stiff with tension, but I can’t deny he can move.
“A dancer. I wouldn’t have expected that.” I try, hoping for conversation, but he doesn’t respond. “You know, out of the two of us, it’s me who should have the issue with you.”
“Don’t fucking start. I don’t care if you’re Abel’s wife.”
“Relax, I’m not here to make enemies. Isn’t that the purpose of this fucked-up wedding? Allegiances?” Again, no answer, and as we move across the floor I see Abel dancing with his mother, but he’s frowning in my direction. Maybe he doesn’t trust me with his brother, either.
“I think I’m done.” Dante finishes moving, but just as he’s about to let me go, he pulls me back so he can whisper in my ear. “I don’t trust you. And if I had my way, I’d gut you like I did your brother. Don't ever touch me again.”
“May I cut in?” My father’s timing, for once in his life, is impeccable. I smile at him and nod as he takes my hand and I watch Dante stalk off.
“Are you enjoying the wedding?” I ask.
“This isn’t a party, Alexia. This is an opportunity, and so far, Melena has held up her end of the bargain.” We sway to the music, and I bite my tongue and smile. “I see he’s not immune to you, Daughter. He’s been watching you since the two of you finished dancing. I trust you’ve been treating him right.” He glides us around the dance floor in an attempt to show some poise and skill but fails.
“Don’t concern yourself with how I do my job, Father. Just know there was never any doubt about my role in this. Yet you still doubt me, even as we dance in the middle of the wedding between our families. I’m now Alexia Cortez, and thus securing the alliance we need.”
“We, is it?” he chuckles.
“Well, Daddy, it is we. I just wish you could see that.” I stop moving and drop my arms from around his neck, stepping back and away from him. After everything I’ve endured today, I know my limits, and a screaming match with my father in the middle of the dance floor is on the cards unless I walk away.
I push past a few other dances and grab a flute of Champagne from a server on the way out to the lobby area. There isn’t enough alcohol to drown my emotions as of this moment, and playing pretend – keeping my mask in place is fucking hard. But at least, having had little input to the guest list, I'm not overwhelmed with people now. Frankly, I’m grateful that the few people around show no interest in striking up a conversation with me or having anything to say to the new Cortez bride. The few families that were here from my side are all distant relations, and Lolita’s family left hours ago.
I take a large gulp of the extra-dry bubbles, and my attention is drawn to voices. Looking over, I think I recognise Melena with a younger woman. They’re in a heated discussion about something, but I can’t see who she’s arguing with. And then her dark hair spins out, and I see it’s Mariana.
“Come on. I’m done. I’m taking you home,” Abel’s voice rumbles from behind me.
“Home, well, how lovely.” I turn and bat my eyes, even though I know it won’t affect him.
“Your home. And I want you ready at ten tomorrow morning. We have plans.”
“Oh, a honeymoon?” I know it’s not, but I can still point out all the shortcomings of this wedding union.
“No. Work. So put down the Champagne, smile, and maybe we can escape this charade.”
CHAPTER NINE
ABEL
The silence of this quiet area eases me awake, and I drop my feet to the floor and stare at my own walls. Dark grey surfaces stare back at me, all of them lined with equally dark, modern furniture and paintings that I didn’t choose. They suit me, though. She knows me well like that. I suppose she would. Carmen. She was the person I chose to match my own cruelty, and she’s good at it regardless of living in that life herself before I elevated her out of it.