Lucian’s Reign: A Billionaire Romance

“He looks at me like I belong to him and nothing can save me from him.

This man… I hate and desire and need to avoid at all costs.

Even if my body burns in flames in his presence.”

Esmeralda

From Evangeline’s diaries…

My heart beats so wildly in my chest, my insides bursting from happiness as I write these words, because the boy I’ve been crushing on asked me out.

Love at first sight, or at least it felt like it, when my eyes landed on his handsome form three months ago as I strolled through the park.

He was sitting on the bench, reading a book, his blond hair swaying slightly from the wind while his thick glasses slid down his nose so he had to adjust them every few seconds.

The white shirt and jeans showcased his lean figure, but nevertheless some unexplainable energy swirled around him, making me unable to peel my gaze away from him until he raised his eyes to me.

Mesmerizing green orbs filled with so many secrets I wished to crack. Right in that moment, my heart squeezed inside my chest.

We stared at one another for what seemed like forever before his cheeks heated up and he glued his stare back on the book in his slightly trembling hand.

Embarrassed beyond measure, I quickly rushed to my destination, the art center, to pick up Esme from her extra activity class. Our mom enrolled her in it, since she showed so much potential when it comes to painting.

Thousands of thoughts played in my mind, each more depressing than the other. Mainly how I met the boy of my dreams, but ran away before we got the chance to talk or explore it.

Mama always told us how the women in our family fell in love only once and instantly, as if lightning struck us, piercing our flesh with an invisible mark belonging only to one man.

A man who would have our heart forever, no matter what he does or who he becomes.

This was one of the reasons she never remarried after Dad’s car accident two years ago; according to her, there was no point in a relationship if her heart died right along with the man forever possessing it.

So that night, a lot of tears slid down my cheeks as I glided on the swing, wondering if I’d ever see the boy again.

But surprisingly, destiny decided to be kind to me, because ever since then, I stumbled onto him in various places from shopping malls to restaurants.

He never spoke a word, just held my gaze. Maybe expecting something from me, but I couldn’t open my mouth.

But today, everything finally changed.

After picking up Esme from her class, she walked in front of me, her heavy backpack bouncing on her shoulders with every step. Then she stopped abruptly and looked at me. “Do you have a boyfriend now?” she asked curiously, and I blinked in surprise.

“No. Of course not.”

“Then why is that boy always following us?” She pointed with her thumb behind us, and I spun around to see the guy, his hands clasped together, trailing behind us several feet away, not knowing how to pass us by and probably pretending he wasn’t doing what Esme accused him of doing.

Before I could stop her, she marched toward him, tilted her head back, and fired a question at him. “Are you a stalker?”

Horrified, I clasped her mouth with my palm and addressed the guy. “I’m so sorry.” Then I hissed, “Esme.”

She shrugged as she pressed herself tighter toward my hip, still watching the stranger warily.

Something flashed in his eyes, and then he finally spoke up, his voice so husky it sent shivers down my spine.

The best kind.

“Not a stalker.” He licked his lips before connecting his eyes with mine. “Would you like to go on a date with me?”

What could I possibly say but yes?

So tomorrow, he’s coming to pick me up, and we will go see a movie. Which means I have only twelve hours to choose what to wear and convince Mom that going out with a boy I don’t even know is a good idea. Despite me being nineteen, she still hovers over me like a helicopter, trying to protect me from the monsters of this earth.

As if monsters would be interested in boring little me.

Today is officially the happiest day of my life.

Esmeralda

“Are you ready to order?” A soft voice pierces through the silence stretching between us and snaps me out of the haze this man has created around us. I sit back a little, turning my gaze toward the server holding a small notepad. She looks between us, clearly reading some tension in the air. “I can come back later if you want.”

Although I wish to grab my bag and race away from here and all the confusing emotions this man inspires and the deep longing demanding to be soothed in a way I don’t know how, my feet stay glued to the spot, already guessing this man would follow me wherever I go. The glint in his brown eyes indicates this much to me.

Besides, we do have business to discuss, and I really don’t want to face Jacob, who keeps glancing our way, still probably trying to put all the pieces together and wondering how I ended up with Lucian no less.

“No,” I tell her, tearing my gaze away from the man, and turn to sit in my seat when his touch stops me. The hotness of his fingers sliding over my shoulder and leaving invisible imprints on my flesh forces a gasp to slip from my lips as he adjusts the strap. “That’s not necessary.” His eyes sparkle in amusement at my stern tone, not fooled by my coldness about my true reaction.

“Retract the claws for now, gatita. You will need them later.” He sweeps his orbs over me, possessiveness shining in them as if promising to show me later what he means.

The audacity this man has! “I’m not your kitten.”

He rasps his knuckles over my cheek before pinching my nose slightly. “You are. And adorable at that.”

Slapping his hand away, I hiss, “Don’t touch me.”

“No puedo prometer eso.”

I can’t promise that.

I don’t have any experience with the opposite sex, but doesn’t this behavior border on insane and stalkerish?

The server clears her throat. “I can really come back later.” She moves uncomfortably, and I glare at the man harder.

My stomach growls loudly, and my cheeks heat up, embarrassment zipping through me. “No need. I’ll have tonight’s special and a green tea please.”

She quickly writes it down and then looks at Lucian, who tells her, “Steak and whiskey.” She nods and then rushes off.

I slide farther inside the booth, sighing in relief when I toe off my shoes. My feet are killing me in these wedges, but all my other shoes magically disappeared.

Or more likely Lila threw out all my sneakers and stuck me with more feminine choices. She knows I don’t care what I wear as long as it allows me free movement so I can paint or sculpt easily.

When she offered to add some style to my clothes, I didn’t mind. I just didn’t expect her to go all in and change my entire wardrobe.

I wiggle my toes and watch as Lucian settles in the booth opposite me, drilling his stare into me as he peers deep into my soul and finds answers, even to those questions about myself I have no idea about.

The server comes back, placing our drinks in front of us before hurrying off again.

He picks up his glass and tilts it gently, letting the ice tap against each other. He takes a sip, momentarily closing his eyes while I watch his Adam’s apple as he swallows, and the familiar heat starts up inside me.

God, is this what desire feels like?

Countless women around me have spoken about it—how with one glance alone, they could want a man—but it’s beyond logical explanation.

Why did it have to be the one man I could never cross the line with?

Because playing any kind of game with Lucian is dangerous, and I don’t want a relationship of any kind.

So the fire he’s started will have to be extinguished by something else.

Run, Esme, run.

Shaking my head, I wrap my hand around the hot mug and decide to bring the conversation back to the important topic and scratch this bizarre exchange all together. “You wanted to meet me regarding the scholarship grant.” Since he stays silent, I continue, slightly annoyed by his little chuckle as if the idea itself is ridiculous. “Thank you for your offer, but I decline.”

His brow rises, and he puts his glass on the table and taps his finger on top of it. “Meaning?”

“You dragged me to this dinner to confirm your desire to invest in our project. That never happened to me before. You have trust issues. I do not want to subject a young artist to this kind of treatment.”

“Ah, it’s about your pride.”

Fury at his condescending tone slides through me, pouring into my veins, and I bite my cheek to stop myself from saying something I might regret later.

Being brave is one thing, but going against one of the most powerful men in the country is entirely different. As I discovered under Grandmother’s roof, their wrath might be deadly to my business and to the people involved in it.

“Pride has nothing to do with it. You wielding your power over some kid concerns me. And I prefer to play it safe.”

He leans on the table, his dominant presence filling the booth with something wicked, while I plaster my back firmer against the cushion, keeping my distance, because moths inevitably get burned by the flames. “Careful, gatita, do not ever accuse me of wielding my power over a child.” Steel laces his voice, sinking fear into my flesh, while the anger residing in his eyes almost scares me as I don’t ever want to be on the receiving end of it. “You cannot play it safe for eternity. Sooner or later, the desire to live and experience life will win over, and you might break from the intensity of it.”

“Speaking from experience?”

A hollow laugh settles between us. “No. If I played it safe, I’d be dead.”

I freeze at this casually thrown statement, and the server chooses this moment to come back with a heavy tray, depositing the delicious smelling repast in front of me and doing the same to Lucian, but despite my hunger, I can barely focus on my food.

Instead, my mind franticly searches for the information I’ve gathered over the years about him or his family to explain his cryptic answers, especially the last one, but come up blank.

His father might have been a ruthless man who could destroy anyone’s wealth with a flick of his finger; however, no one ever said anything bad about him or Cortez family as a whole.

Picking up a fork, I swirl it in my pasta, needing to say something after his statement yet failing to find any words. “Don’t think too hard about it,” he advises as if guessing my thoughts. He cuts his steak, the blood seeping onto the plate. “Although, your compassionate nature is very admirable, even if it’s foolish.”

And just like that, fury once again replaces my confusion or curiosity. “I’m selfish. If I was compassionate, I’d accept your help instead of thinking how I want to stab you with this fork.” I shovel the food into my mouth, groaning and closing my eyes when the taste hits my tongue, then chew it slowly to enjoy every bite.

And when I look again, my gaze clashes with his heated one, slamming the earlier sensations into me so hard my other hand grips the table, hating how desire travels through me, flowing over my skin and promising all kinds of pleasure if I just take the leap.

Which I’m not going to do.

Ever.

This time around, he is the one to break the silence. “If you do not want my help, I’ll accept that.” My brows furrow at such an easy capitulation. “But you have to answer my question first.”

Apparently, there’s always a catch when it comes to Lucian Cortez.

I’m starting to understand the whole charming asshole narrative.

Taking a few more bites of my pasta, I wait for him to finally get to it. We can put an end to this evening then and I can go back to my boring little world undisturbed by his presence. “Why do you find the idea of giving money to an organization without checking on how it operates acceptable? But to inquire about how the funds actually reach these children to fulfill their dreams, you see as an intrusion and a sign of distrust.” My fork pauses midway to my mouth at this. “A trust is a gift earned by loyalty and a moral code. And no one owes it to you or your little galleries just because once upon a time you became a sensation in the art world.” He dives into his steak, while I, musing over his words, lose my appetite all together.

Why indeed?

The answer to that question comes too quickly though and doesn’t paint me in the best of light. And to my utter astonishment, it spills from my lips before I can stop it. “My grandmother loved to say that people who we help in life should be watched carefully as they are forever in our debt. Whatever goodness she brought to the world was tainted by how she behaved toward them. I guess I prefer people to stay out, because being indebted to someone is a heavy burden to carry, and I don’t ever want to be the cause of that.” He stills at my explanation, and I wipe my mouth with a napkin and drop it on the table. “I apologize for projecting this on you. If you still want to help, I’ll ask Eugene to give you all the information you might need.”

Because interacting with this man who brings so much chaos to me and makes me question my actions and change my decision just in the first thirty minutes of our meeting is not healthy to my mind, body, soul, or heart.

Yes, Esme, spike up the dramatics, will you.

Grabbing my bag, I get up, ready to bolt, when his strong hand catches mine, pulling me toward him, and I end up on his lap with a loud huff while my bag falls on the ground. “What in the hell are you doing?” I push at his chest that’s hard as granite under my palm, and he adjusts me better on his lap instead, his muscled arm trapping me in the embrace. “Let me go!” I hiss in his face and groan inwardly when several people move their heads in our direction, gaping at us.

Lucian notices where my attention goes and quickly snaps the curtains shut, secluding us from the intrusive stares.

“Since we are no longer business associates—”

“We were never that!”

He ignores my outburst. He lifts his hand to my face and runs his knuckles over my cheek. “I think we should talk about these feelings between us, gatita.”

“There are no feelings. Are you insane? Let me go!” I repeat, wiggling in his hold, but his strength barely allows me to move as it is. “Lucian!”

He slides his knuckles to my chin before traveling lower toward my neck. Goose bumps pop up on my flesh when his thumb presses against my wildly beating pulse. “Ah, but there are.” He moves even lower to my collarbone and just above my breast, giving it a butterfly touch that’s barely noticeable, yet it sets everything inside me aflame. My nipples peak against the dress, forming visible shadows and uncovering my hidden desire toward this man.

“Lust is a powerful tool, gatita, and I intend to use it to get what I want.” He lifts his other hand from my waist and places it on my back, sliding up to my nape and squeezing lightly. Then he grabs a handful of my hair and pulls it hard, making me arch my back and expose my neck to him. “You are a living, breathing art form that should be displayed in a famous museum for men to admire your beauty, which eclipses anything and anyone else.”

Lucian presses his hot mouth to my neck, and I gasp, my hand curling into his shirt, leaning slightly closer to him. His finger slides to my nipple, circling around it and sending sensations through my system that travel straight to my core where they act like gasoline on a fire, intensifying the desire building in the pit of my stomach.

However, I still find the strength to whisper, “Stop it.” Because getting tangled in his twisted web, which is destined to make me crave his touch like my next breath, might be my undoing.

Love and lust make women in my family deaf and blind to rational thinking and any survival instinct, leading them to their own doom.

He pays no attention to my pleas, skimming his lips to my chin, leaving a damp trail in his path as he reaches my lower lip, biting it and pulling it to the side before soothing it with the lick of his tongue.

My moan echoes between us, and my hold on him tightens while he chuckles. “I’d put you on a pedestal in the same dress you’re wearing right now, which showcases all the curves of your delectable body. Then I’d rip it to fucking shreds and open your thighs wide so everyone would see this pussy dripping for me and only me.”

The air hitches in my throat at the image he’s painting in my head, my core dampening as I think about this man focusing his gaze on me with just a curtain separating us from everyone else.

Our eyes clash, mine heated and his darkened, while he pinches my nipple, and I groan in his mouth when he connects it with mine, not kissing me but bringing relief nevertheless. “I would feast on your flesh to your loud moans filling the space as you grip my head closer and grind on my mouth, getting off on every sweep of my tongue.”

His hand glides down my stomach to the junction of my thighs, shifting lower to the hem of my dress, and his splayed palm settles on my thigh. “You’d come apart in my arms over and over again, gracing us all with the magnificent sight of your pleasure, making every man jealous and wish to trade places with me.” He squeezes my thigh hard, and prickles of pain flash through me, no doubt leaving imprints for days to come. “But I will never allow this to happen, and you know why, gatita?”

I shake my head, but since he stays motionless, waiting for me to acknowledge his confusion, I crack. “No.”

He skims his lips back down to my throat, widening his mouth over it before sucking on the skin and earning himself another moan as my fingers drive up, up, up to his hair, grabbing it, holding him in place.

More goose bumps arise when he grazes his teeth over my skin, leaving a sting behind, which the tip of his tongue fixes.

Despite my mind rebelling against his actions and urging me to break the spell so I can put a stop to this madness, my body stills, expecting his next move. His voice hypnotizes me in a way that I think I’ll do whatever he says as long as the fire building in the pit of my stomach is extinguished by his touch.

If lust is a sin we should be ashamed of, then I’m going straight to hell.

“I’d have to kill them all for daring to look at my woman in such a moment. My woman belongs to me. Her pleasure, her beauty, her desire… they belong to me, and any man daring to think otherwise will have to face my wrath. I do not share. Ever.”

Madness, such madness, because I do not belong to him. How can I after just minutes of meeting him?

Maybe if you repress your body and natural urges for too long, it will rebel against the chains enclosing them and dispose its desires to the first available man.

Or so is the lie I tell myself in order to squash the guilt and confusion for wanting something from a man I should avoid.

Because the likes of him take whatever they want, permission be damned.

He angles my head toward him as his hand glides upward, reaching my chin, and his thumb presses on it, making me open my jaw wide. My whimper is trapped between us when he nudges his tongue inside.

And with this kiss, he seals my fate, drawing me into the passion of his creation while setting my whole being on fire and lighting up my world in a way I never knew before.

His tongue explores inside my mouth, staking invisible claim on it and drawing mine to play with his.

Shyly answering his invitation, I tentatively flick mine against his, which earns me a satisfied groan. His hand cups my breast, causing me to moan as he changes our kiss from sweet to heated in a flash.

Each flick and lick spirals me deeper into the abyss, promising me all kinds of rewards if I accept and claim all his kiss entails.

If I’d known there were men out there who kissed like Lucian Cortez, I wouldn’t have let one sloppy experience ruin it all for me.

Although right this second, I cannot imagine anyone’s mouth on me but his.

I hear the table screeching against the parquet. Lucian must have moved it with his legs, and then he gets up, still holding me in his arms.

Too lost to pay attention to anything else but the way his tongue glides against mine, dueling for dominance, while thousands of different sensations slam into me, pulling me deeper into the lustful ocean, I yelp when he suddenly lets go and my legs fall to the ground as his grip on my hips tightens.

He picks me up, and I moan when he sits down again, his hard-on pressed against me as he separates my knees and lets me straddle him. Adjusting my position on top of him, my knees dip into the cushions. I place my hands on his shoulders to steady myself and lean forward, seeking his mouth again.

Only he denies me entry. He fists my hair and tilts my head back as my eyes close, and I feel his hot breath on my collarbone, suckling the flesh. I’ll probably have a hickey that will mark me to anyone daring to look at me by his side. And strangely, the idea of belonging to him, even if it’s just in my fantasies, serves as an aphrodisiac to me. He reaches the mounds of my breasts, gently kissing each one, and then roams the tip of his tongue over them. My hands grip his shoulders harder, and my nails dig into his skin, resulting in a growl that sends vibrations through me, which only adds to the pleasure slowly consuming me.

Thousands of sensations cascade through me, enveloping me in something wicked and forbidden in this hidden booth in the middle of the busy restaurant. The charming devil pulls me closer, making me gasp at the feel of his hard-on pushing into my panty-covered core.

Common sense, reality, right and wrong do not matter, as the only driving force in this moment is to reach the oblivion—at the end of this sweet torture—he promises with his every touch.

His hand slips under the hem of my dress, pushing it to the side, and his fingers skim over my lacy panties before splaying his palm over my heated flesh and squeezing.

He connects his mouth with mine, trapping my loud groan in his throat, his tongue licking mine as they entwine. My thighs clamp around his hand, my hips rocking back and forth, seeking the friction only he can provide me.

Wrapping my arms around his neck, I pull him even closer, leaving no space between us, and deepen the kiss. I welcome the fire spreading in my veins, waiting for the eruption to happen as my heart gallops inside my chest, feeling truly alive maybe for the first time in my life.

For a second, I decide not to fight this and allow my mind and body to succumb to this stranger who, with his touch alone, will give me momentary relief from the nightmares slamming into me wherever I go because I cannot outrun them.

I freeze when he tugs my panties to the side and one finger enters me, slipping in so deep I tear my mouth away from him and gulp for breath. “Lucian,” I whisper and then groan when a second finger enters, delving deep as the heel of his palm presses against my clit. I erupt into a heated haze as I get closer and closer to the place I’ve never been before to experience the pleasure that has been unknown for so long to my body.

Possessiveness laces his husky voice when he asks, fisting my hair harder, “Has anyone touched this pussy before, gatita?” His fingers roam inside me, sliding in and out, while the pressure on my clit increases and my pussy clenches around him. I gasp in protest when he suddenly stills his movements. “Respóndeme.”

“No.” I’m ready to admit anything as long as it ensures he’ll satisfy this hunger driving me insane, pushing me toward something akin to a cliff from where I can jump and soar high.

His body tenses at my admission before he slides his hand along my nape, shifting me forward so that our breaths mingle together, our mouths inches apart. He extends his tongue, licking the seam of my lips, and I open them for him as he bestows a deep and passionate kiss on me. He swallows my moans and dominates my mouth while his fingers roll inside me, venturing deeper and deeper.

Every thrust into my core and brush of his tongue intensifies the sensations sizzling through me, adding to the building nirvana that needs this man like I’ve never needed anything before, to save me from the onslaught of emotions hitting me hard.

Hugging him closer, I crave to cover his hand with mine and speed up his movements, to drive me to the edge faster. But at the same time, I want to savor each touch and every minute in his arms, because I know I cannot allow this to happen again.

Perspiration coats my skin, plastering the dress tighter to my body, which disturbs my nipples, and he squeezes me ever closer, his hard muscles digging into my soft curves, and I pull my mouth away from his, exhaling heavily before connecting them together once again.

He devours my mouth, tangling his tongue with mine, while he pulls at my hair, keeping me prisoner in his hold… as if I can run away.

This man has the keys to the pleasure at the end of this tunnel, and I will not leave him until he unlocks it. I’ll think about the consequences later.

Lucian’s fingers become more daring, slipping farther and farther and pushing against something that makes my breathing speed up to the point I feel the pulse in my throat, causing a tickling sensation all over me, a hot flush zipping through me, creating a cocoon around me and boiling my blood so much I think I might burst from it.

He presses on my clit one more time and then thrusts his fingers into me harder, and I arch my back, crying out, not caring who might hear me when the orgasm hits me, spreading rapidly all over me, providing exquisite relief and pleasure within.

The outside world ceases all together, the buzzing in my ears replacing all other sounds. As every sensation increases, enhanced by the smells floating around me, my body trembles all over, demanding to be soothed somehow.

I look at Lucian for guidance, because I’m not sure how I should handle it all. He removes his finger from inside me, my pussy clenching at the loss.

He lifts it to his mouth and then sucks each finger, one by one, making my stomach flip. “Delicious, gatita. Too bad I cannot spread you on this table and get you off with my tongue.” A dangerous glint flashes in his dark orbs. “I’ve shared enough of you already.”

The air hitches in my lungs, imagining what it would feel like if he delivered on his promise and ravished me right now and here.

God, this man and his mouth should be forbidden, because it represents danger too.

Shaking my head from the vision that has the power to reignite the fire he just extinguished with me, I whimper when he kisses me again; although this time around, it’s completely different to the hungry claims of possession he has given me.

His lips are gentle against mine, his tongue lazily slipping inside and seeking. They glide against each other as he shares my taste with me, and my core clenches.

Gripping his hair, I rise up a bit on his lap and slide over his hard-on, and he groans, ending the kiss with a little nip on my lower lip. “Careful, gatita.” Even though everything female in me screams to give him the same relief he has given me, I know engaging in more public displays of affection might lead to trouble, and I’m not sure my will is strong enough to withstand the call of the flesh and give my virginity to him on a silver platter, right here.

Resting my forehead against his, my eyelids drop as I enjoy the quietness he provided me and soak up this moment to cherish it for forever.

“We shouldn’t have done it,” I whisper, hating how my body now knows his touch and might never accept another, which is a ridiculous thought in itself, isn’t it?

Is it possible to fall into lust at first sight?

His next words though snap me out of my musing, dumping ice-cold water over me, freezing me on the spot. “If I cannot do it with my future wife, with whom can I do it?”

His future what now?

Lucian

When hunters set their eyes on the object of their desire that consumes their mind day and night alike, twisting their insides and awakening the evil residing deep in their soul into sadistic cravings… they call it their prey.

A hunter might quickly trap it in his cage, or he might observe it for years, learning its habits in order to inflict the most pain and fulfill the warped scenario in his mind.

And sometimes… in very rare cases when the prey triggers some memories or merges with someone who still means something to the hunter, the prey becomes an obsession so strong nothing and no one can rip the imaginary bond they both share.

Obsession.

A word that I’ve heard a lot through my life but never understood. I laughed at the concept of someone or something being able to control a man to a point where he loses his head.

Because a hunter cannot survive without a clear head. Emotions kill instincts; that’s why they can never rule anyone.

However, this woman in my arms, who stills on my lap, barely breathing after my words and whose sapphire eyes widen in shock… she speaks to the monster reigning inside me who covets to stake his claim on her and drag her to his cave so no one will ever look at her, let alone touch or obsess over her.

Mine, mine, and only mine, untainted by the darkness this earth has to offer.

Antidote to the poison that filled the blood in my veins a long time ago.

The innocence pouring from her and slipping into the shattered cracks in my soul is a temptation I’m powerless to resist.

Love at first sight?

No, never that.

Love, a concept about an eternal bond most people accept as their given right and dedicate their life searching for their soul mate.

A concept I have no idea about, because I never received it nor felt it or believed in it.

A privilege few of us are granted, but it’s forever lost to the monsters like me who choose darkness over it time and time again.

I can fight the pull that is destined to drive me insane in order to save her from myself—especially with the fucker waiting for her to reach a certain age to fulfill his fucked-up fantasy—and protect her from afar, watching her every move until evil comes out to strike.

Or I could tie her to me for eternity, enjoying the momentary calmness she gives to my darkness, and in this way, anger the fucker even more, urging him to come out of hiding even faster.

Seduction?

It wouldn’t work on her anyway. The fear she tries to mask is evident in her every inexperienced touch and kiss.

She intends to run at the first chance she gets, and unfortunately for her, it only intensifies the desire to chase her, catching her in my net.

The only way to capture this creature is to put cuffs on her wrists instead of a ring on her finger, announcing to the whole world who she belongs to.

And bring the fucker right to my doorstep, where he won’t be able to escape, which will lead to his loss.

“No,” she whispers, her lips red and puffy from our kiss, and scoots back until she steps on the parquet. She grabs her bag, puts her fingers on her lips, and stares at me for a long time. I drink in her seductive beauty, barely controlling myself from pulling her toward me again, but the way she fidgets stops me. If you push prey too hard, it might break. “This can never happen again. It was a mistake.” And spinning around, she opens the curtain and races toward the door, passing by a gaping server while I rest my head back on the booth, not bothered by it.

I’ve already instructed one of my security guards to drive a cab and pick her up in case our meeting upsets her somewhat and she might want to go home. Two more men will guard her house day and night, making sure no unusual activity is happening.

I will never take chances with Esmeralda; no hunter who values his prey leaves it unattended.

You can run, gatita, but you won’t outrun your destiny.

If my little kitten needs wooing in order to succumb to this desire already sinking its claws into her, then it will be a wooing she deserves, worthy of queens in this world, but the outcome will be the same.

Marriage.

Esmeralda will be my wife.

Even if I have to kidnap and blackmail her in order to achieve it.

Patience, after all, was never one of my virtues.