“And for that,” he muttered against her jawline, “you are lucky. If not for the guards, we would have been having a very different discussion.”
“I did nothing wr—”
“And you’re also a lying whore, Val. You already got out of my hands once, but I promise it won’t happen again. I will have you put in a shipping container and sent to the highest bidder who will keep you under lock and key until they tire of fucking you before you’ll ever get away from me again. Do you understand me?”
She squeezed her eyes shut.
Samuel cleared his throat. “Excuse me.”
Valeria didn’t open her eyes again until she heard the footsteps recede from the kitchen and fade away down the hall. She might have been mad that Samuel left her alone with Jorge when, his intentions were bad, but why bother?
No one else would save her here.
She had to do that alone.
Somehow.
Jorge’s hand tightened on Valeria’s neck, and without a word, he spun her around so the two faced one another. He barricaded her against the island, his one hand sliding around to grip the front of her throat while his other played with the hem of her dress, twisting it between his fingers like he considered ripping it off her.
It wouldn’t be the first time.
“Did you enjoy coming into the city again?” he asked.
No.
Because she was with him.
She lied. “I did.”
“See, if you behaved yourself more, and showed an effort to care about this marriage of ours, and what I want from you, I might let you have more freedom.”
No, he wouldn’t.
Whether it was one of his vacation homes, the ranch, or the city ... if she had to be with him, then it was all the same fucking prison to her.
She didn’t have to say anything to Jorge because he leaned in close, and pressed a kiss that tasted like aged bourbon against her lips. His sneer deepened into a smirk that promised she would not like what happened next.
“Get upstairs,” he uttered, “and make sure you’re naked when I join you.”
• • •
“Are you going to tell me where we’re going now?”
Next to her in the backseat of the Cadillac, Jorge kept his gaze locked on the window. That didn’t bother Valeria as much, seeing as how his attention focused elsewhere. What bothered her was the fact she had to dress up, leave her daughter at the ranch, and without a reason.
“Does it matter? A night out is good for you, Val.”
“Curiosity, is all.”
“Women are better when they’re not curious,” he returned, “because you’re more interesting to look at that way, and less problematic.”
Perfect.
Not that it helped to sedate her worries. Usually, when Jorge took her out, he made her aware of what to expect, and what he expected from her. Because those were two different things.
“It’s a dinner,” Jorge muttered to her left, “that’s all. I thought the Canadian might like to sit down with me before he arrives at the ranch in a few days. His father headed back to his own country. He has details to share about the deal we hadn’t hammered out.”
Chris?
Huh.
She tried not to show how that only made her more curious. She didn’t need to admit that thoughts about Chris Guzzi lingered in her mind more than they should since their first meeting. His question to her during that walk—did she like it here?—played on repeat in the back of her mind. Alongside the image of his face, that handsome profile she had no business admiring.
He didn’t have to care about her, or ask about her welfare, so to speak. And yet he had, which made her wonder about him.
All dangerous things.
“So, why am I here?” she asked.
Jorge passed her a cold, dismissive glance. “Because he asked for you to come along. Thought I might enjoy bringing you. I didn’t want to seem rude. Don’t disappoint me tonight and do something I’ll deal with later. Understand?”
Valeria nodded.
“I got it.”
Better than he understood.
The rest of the drive passed in silence. That continued even after they had parked, and the driver opened their doors for them to exit the vehicle. Her husband only spoke to tell her to smile before they entered the traditionally decorated restaurant, one she hadn’t visited before. It wasn’t a business owned or controlled by her husband or one of his men, considering the woman working the front desk said they had to wait until their guest wanted them at his table.
“This shit,” Jorge uttered under his breath. “Anywhere else would have been suitable.”
Or, she thought, he’s showing you that you don’t have a stronghold everywhere.
Once they entered the back of the restaurant where Chris waited, standing next to a table spread out with a buffet of food already prepped to eat on gold-plated dishes, Jorge still hadn’t relaxed.
“Guzzi,” he said, gruffly.
Chris smiled, his gaze darting to Valeria even as he said, “Jorge, thank you for indulging me tonight.”
“Better make it worth it, that’s all I have to say. Is the food here any good? I don’t trust people I am not paying to make me anything I have to put inside my mouth.”
“It’s a buffet. We’re all eating from the same plates. A true sign of friendship, yes? And trust.”
Smart again.
Valeria shouldn’t notice those things.
Or the way Christopher looked in his suit.
Still, she did.
Maybe a part of her recognized ... this man would be a problem for her. It didn’t matter he looked at her like he was looking into her soul, searching for something she was keeping well hidden. Or that she liked his handsome features, and the way his form filled out the very expensive Armani he wore.
There was something else ...
And she liked it.
“Fine,” Jorge muttered. “Let’s sit, and we’ll—”
A sharp Boss from behind them had Jorge turning before he approached the table to pull out a chair for himself, likely leaving her to fend for herself.
“What?” Jorge asked the man who kept a safe distance.
The section they were dining in had no other patrons.
A private area?
What strings had Chris pulled?
“Your father is on the phone.”
Jorge grunted and waved a hand. “I will call him back.”
“He’s adamant that—”
“Fine.” Jorge gave Chris a nod, saying, “I will be a few minutes. I’m sure you can entertain yourself without me.” He eyed the platters on the table, adding, “Begin eating without me, hmm? We eat, and then we do business.”
“Right,” Chris agreed. “No worries.”
Jorge pivoted on his heel, unbothered with leaving Valeria there to fend for herself. She was stunned, however, when Chris was quick to come around to her side of the table, and the first thing he did was grab a chair to pull out.
For her.
This close, she smelled the distinct aroma of his cologne. It fit his personality, she thought. Understated, but with distinct notes. Complex. Like him.
Valeria ignored the heat in her gut, never mind the way her heart raced when his hand came to rest on her waist when his dark tenor urged her to, “Sit.”