Page 4 of When Sinners Hate
A tray of cold iced- tea arrives, and I muse to myself that it might have some advantages marrying into this family. They certainly know how to staff a house.
My nails begin to tap, my leg bounces, and my overall impatience crawls up inside me as I wait. Wait to meet the man I’m meant to marry. Wait to meet the men who killed my brother.
Finally, another servant appears and nods in my direction. I stand and follow her into the house and to a set of doors. She nods and leaves. So with a deep breath, I push the golden handle down and let the door swing open. Pulling myself up, I stand as tall as possible as I enter the room.
My eyes do a quick sweep but don’t really recognise any of the men in the room.
“Hello, Melena. Boys.” I watch as they all glance and take their fill. Judging by some of the reactions, they weren’t expecting me. Interesting. “So, who’s it going to be?”
CHAPTER ONE
ABEL
There’s silence in the room for a while. I let it linger, waiting to see how Alexia Ortega reacts to a Cortez welcome. Even our mother sits there unsure which way this will go because I haven’t told her yet either. I was waiting for this moment before I confirmed it, perhaps wondering if Knox would show enough interest. He hasn’t.
Unsurprisingly, Shaw can’t keep his eyes off the newcomer, and makes his way over to introduce himself. I understand that from his perspective because she is stunning. Unfortunately, she’s also stunning in a way that makes me question if there’s any reality left in her. That’s not the kind of woman he can handle on any level.
I’ve been watching her for nearly six months. I was about set to make a choice for this family, but then Dante decided he wasn’t going to play ball and found himself something special. Screwed my plans, because he was the only one of my brothers that could have managed her successfully. Shaw was always a pointless discussion. She’d eat him alive unless we constantly fed him instructions. Knox? I could push him – make him, andhe'd do it. He’d also probably manage her with the precision of a blade. However, the moment her family took on mine this became my problem to deal with.
Mother eventually stands up in greeting, as if bowing down to some unwritten rule between our two families. That might have been true before, but there are no rules now as far as I’m concerned. Whether Alexia agreed or not, or knew or not, that family came for us. They took something precious to one of us and they threatened it. Dante may have made sure Nicolas never got a chance to breathe again, but now it's my job to send a message back loud and clear to the Ortega family; we will not be fucked with.
I watch the greeting between the women, and then catch hold of the newcomer’s eyes. She stares without an inch of backing down. In fact, she lifts her chin in defiance. Perfectly poised. Perfectly dressed. Perfectly fucking aimed at anything her father wanted to aim her at. Miguel Ortega trained her well. She’s been moulded enough to drive any man to distraction.
A low rumble of chaos runs through me. It winds my dick into a frenzy of outrage. I smile at what’s coming, as Dante looks back at me. He’s still got that scowl embedded in his brow, confusion marring his thoughts presumably. I put a hand on his shoulder and nod, pointing at the rest of the family in the same breath.
“You can all leave. We’ll be fine on our own,” I offer.
There isn’t one flinch or show of interest on her, barely even a movement in her lips.
Dante’s body spins fully to look at me, his glare questioning what the fuck I’m doing when we could be using Shaw for this. I nod at him again to get out of here. He’s got a life to live now – a lover to enjoy. I was still curious about his commitment to her until Nicolas interfered. I wondered if I could turn him back to us – make him do this – but I only hadto see his fear to know exactly where his loyalty was. The only way we keep him now is by me giving him everything he needs, because if he has to make a choice between us or Wren, I’m not sure it’s going to be us that win.
“It’s alright, Brother,” I murmur. “Go.”
He frowns, but turns and walks towards the others until he’s leading Mariana out behind the rest of them. Frankly, I pity him the responsibility and feelings involved in a relationship, but his choice is made. I respect it. In fact, I'm relatively pleased with it given the woman he’s found. It's a shame she has no idea what we do yet, because I'm damn sure that's going to sting like a bitch when she does find out.
The noise of feet and low talk slowly quietens to nothing, and I turn to the sideboard to fetch some Champagne. The liquid pours slowly, giving me a few seconds to think. There isn’t much need for thought. I doubt fucking her will be a chore, but there definitely will be a standard to set clear if this is going to end up relatively amicable.
By the time I turn around she’s out on the veranda, her long, lean body standing tall in the middle of the space. Platinum blonde hair, no doubt fake, hangs loose down an exposed back, and leads to deeply tanned legs perched taut on black heels. Appropriate clothing for her wealth. Clinging to her shape, and just on the line of slutty. Can’t say I mind that at all.
“You chose yourself, Abel,” she says, as I approach. “I'm honoured.”
Her face turns to look at me, red lips smiling broadly. I hand the Champagne over, looking at the intensity that perfection gives her. I doubt anyone’s ever said no to her, or imposed rules on her privileged little ass. That's about to change.
“You shouldn’t be. I’m far from the life you’re used to living. This will be more like a prison sentence for you, Alexia.”
I let her name linger in my mouth, as I look at hers, unsure of its familiarity. We’re not familiar. I doubt we’ll ever be past fucking because this is just a convenience – a union. And, whether she likes it or not, I am more of a monster than either her brother or father have even been. She just doesn’t know it yet.
“I don’t know. This place is nice enough. A little small, but it will do for us.”
I chuckle and stand beside her, casting my stare out to the view rather than her. “This is my mother’s house. I don’t live here.”
“You don’t?”
“No.”
“Where do you live?”
I turn and lean on the rail, choosing to look back at her instead of the same grounds I’ve seen a thousand times. “Where I live is of no concern to you.”