So I fucking pressed play.
The minute my gaze focused on the screen, my chest tightened, then ached like I’d taken a crowbar to the sternum. Heart pounding, I watched Adelita walk into the path of the camera. I froze, fucking froze as she turned, book in hand, and her face came into view. My lips parted and my breath shot out from my mouth. Adelita smiled at something she was reading, and my hand balled up again. Her golden cross stabbed into my palm, but I welcomed the pain. It was the only thing that made me feel like I was alive.
This, and her. Always fucking her.
Her dark hair hung down her back, and her big brown eyes were bright. Her skin, her body . . . everything was perfection.
I reached out with my free hand and ran my finger down the screen, over her face. Her lips. Those lips. I could taste her on my tongue, hear her fall apart as I took that mouth.
“Adelita,” I rasped. She turned at that moment, as though she could hear me. But she couldn’t. We hadn’t spoken for years; it had been too dangerous, too risky to her safety. But it didn’t mean she didn’t still own my dark heart. The bitch had it. Would be the only one who ever did. Without her I was dead inside, had been for two years without her. Two long fucking years without having her in my arms. Two years without contact. Wondering if she was still mine. But knowing, with every new day that passed, that I was no good for her.
She didn’t need me in her life.
We were at war.
She was beautiful, and she deserved someone who could give her more.
But even knowing that, I couldn’t walk away from her. I was a selfish prick like that.
I didn’t take my eyes off the screen. I didn’t move even as she moved out of shot. I watched the dark screen for any sign of movement until it was dawn . . . her golden cross still in my hand.
Chapter Two
Adelita
Mexico
The tap of a spoon on a champagne glass snapped me from staring, unseeing, at the roses in the center of the table. I blinked, the landscaped garden coming back into focus. Lights had been strung up around the veranda, and all of my papa’s associates sat around the long, extravagant table. I cast my gaze to Diego, who got to his feet—Diego Medina, my papa’s second in command, and the boy I had grown up with.
Diego smiled at the associates. He was dressed, as always, in an Armani suit, his crisp white shirt showcasing his light brown skin. His sky-blue tie sat perfectly over his chest. Of course my maid had dressed me to match—they always did, when my father ordered it. I wore a blue silk Armani dress that fell to my feet. My hair hung down my back in loose waves. I glanced at my papa’s newest girlfriend. She was dressed to match his tie too.
I fought the need to roll my eyes. We women were sitting as the perfectly crafted dolls my papa had made us into . . . a fact that grated on me every single day. Only, Charley Bennett, my best friend, grew as frustrated with this patriarchal way of life as me. Her father was in partnership with Papa. Mr. Bennett was the cocaine distributor for California. It was where they were from. I never got to see Charley nearly as much as I wished. Charley was sitting beside me in her pale pink dress which suited her blond hair, gray eyes and sun-kissed skin perfectly.
As the table hushed, Charley reached out and subtly took hold of my hand under the table for a few seconds before letting go. I cast her a discreet nervous glance. Her eyes widened in panic. Charley didn’t know about Tanner. But she knew I was being pushed toward Diego by my father. And she knew I didn’t love Diego, nor did I want him as more than a friend.
Diego cleared his throat, and I focused my attention back on him. His dark eyes quickly set on me. I froze, uncomfortable, when he didn’t look away. He smiled the smile I had seen countless women fall for over the years. The smile he had been giving me for years, but one I had managed to resist.
I gripped my champagne flute tighter, nerves suddenly accosting my body. “You all know me around this table. You all know me as Alfonso Quintana’s right-hand man. You know me as the man who would die for this family. Our businesses.” He paused, then turned his entire body to face me. I cast a quick, unsteady glance at my father. He was already watching me, a small, proud smile on his face.
A fire ignited in my blood and traveled directly to my heart. My heart raced in frantic, irregular beats when I realized what was happening . . . when I realized what Diego was about to do.
“What many of you don’t know is the man I am in private.” Diego’s head tipped to the side slightly as he looked at me adoringly. Lovingly. The same possessive look he had cast upon me from childhood. The grip on my champagne glass was the only thing keeping me from falling apart. From showing my nerves and my fear. But I was Adelita Quintana. I was my father’s daughter and could never, would never, show my fear to anyone. I had never let anyone see me vulnerable . . . except one man . . .
“What you haven’t seen are the years gone by where I have loved and adored a certain woman. A woman I’ve known since we were children. We were raised together.” He laughed and shook his head. “We played together . . . and in all that time she never noticed me. Not until six months ago when she finally agreed to dinner after thousands of refusals. And then we never looked back.” We had only ever kissed a couple of times, and even then, each second had felt like the worst kind of torture. I could no longer evade my papa’s greatest wish and Diego’s persistence. But as I kissed him that first time, I remembered the last kiss I received . . . one that I could still feel, imprinted on my lips like a brand. The mouth I could still taste. The strong arms and body of the man that lay above me . . .
But I’d had to pretend. Because no one knew who had stolen my heart. No one knew who I had attached my soul to . . . even I didn’t know anymore. No contact for over two years. No word. I was empty inside. Dead. Only one man could bring me back to life.
A man I wasn’t sure still wanted me. A man I should never have loved, and who should never have loved me. But we did love each other . . . so very much.
Diego took a long breath, then addressed me directly. I fought the lump in my throat that had built just thinking of Tanner. Of his blue eyes and tattooed arms. I love you, princess . . . Never forget that, even when I’m gone from here . . . I’ll only ever protect you . . . I’m gonna find a way for us to be together . . . someday . . . no matter how long it takes . . .
“Adelita Quintana, I have loved you since I was old enough to understand what love was.” Diego walked toward me, placing his champagne glass on the table. He reached into his jacket and brought out a ring box. I stared at that black velvet box like it was the very thing that would destroy my soul. I felt Charley’s eyes burning into me, but I couldn’t look at her. I would fall apart if I did.
Eventually I looked up at Diego. He dropped to his knees, under the sparkling garden lights and with all my papa’s associates’ eyes fixed on us. My eyes pricked with tears, but I didn’t worry. The family here would put it down to emotion from this moment. And they were correct. But they were tears of sadness and frustration and fear. Not happiness and elation. My blood had turned cold, and the flicker of joy I occasionally felt had disappeared completely. I felt nothing but the gutting hole that was Tanner’s two years of silence and absence.