The Taste of Revenge (War of Sins Book 1)

My pulse drums in my ears as I startle from yet another nightmare. It’s been weeks since the dark room incident yet I still haven’t managed to move on. The fear of being violated in that manner is hard to overcome, and to an extent, it still lives within me. Then there’s Rafaelo’s cruel laughter—that ominous sound that follows me everywhere.

He set out to destroy me, and I fear he’s well on the path to do so. Especially as he seems to have honed in on my weaknesses. In the beginning, I didn’t want to believe he would be capable of something this terrible. Yet the more I get to know him the more I realize that the love that fuels his thirst for revenge is all encompassing.

The love for Lucero. I’m ashamed to admit that pains me more than anything.

I’ve been struggling with my feelings for him from the start. They are too out of control, fear and longing mixing together in a lethal combination. Add jealousy in the mix and I feel lost—truly, truly lost.

As I get out of my bed, I go about my morning ablutions, deciding to take breakfast in my room—yet again.

My initial plan of taunting Rafaelo clearly backfired—immensely. If anything, I’m always the one who ends up on the losing side, no matter how much I try to keep my chin up and ignore his jibes. After the dark room, our interactions have only gotten worse, his words growing crueler with each passing day.

Before, I may have tried to defend myself and tell him that I’m not who he thinks I am, but he’s too set in his ways. In his mind, I’ve already been tried and convicted. If my own family doesn’t believe me…why would he, a stranger?

The more he insults me, the more I should learn to hate him, and the more he mentions Lucero, the more I should just bury my emotions.

But it doesn’t work like that. Not when my heart skips a beat every time he’s in the vicinity. Not when every waking moment my thoughts are filled with him. And certainly not when his voice is the only thing that can give my day some sense of normalcy.

Am I…getting used to being bullied? Is that it?

I’ve tackled this particular issue with my therapist and she’d suggested it might be a manifestation of my guilt and the fact that he does, in fact, embody the characteristics of my ideal man. It’s just that those particular traits of his that I admire are never aimed at me.

And as we’ve gone on to unravel my subconscious, it has become clear that I am vulnerable when it comes to Rafaelo, and as such it is best if I avoid him.

Easier said than done when Cisco had taken that one request to heart, ensuring Raf accompanied me everywhere when I went out. I haven’t had a moment of quiet. Every single interaction we have is filled with so much tension that often leaves me emotionally exhausted.

‘Are you sure you’re fine, Noelle? It’s not like you to miss breakfast,’ Yuyu mentions from the doorway, but I simply burrow deeper in my blankets.

‘I think it’s the change of seasons,’ I fake a cough. ‘It must be messing with my body.’

‘I see,’ she nods, worried. ‘I’ll have Greta bring you the food here then.’

‘Thank you,’ I give her a small smile.

And as she leaves, I finally breathe out in relief.

It’s the third day in a row that I’ve asked to eat in my room. I can’t blame Yuyu for being suspicious, but neither do I want to see Rafaelo. I’ve done my best to keep out of his way, but it’s definitely not easy when we live in the same house and we bump into each other at every turn.

It’s only when he’s away with business that I get some breathing room—but that never lasts. In fact, I’ve even stopped playing the piano when he is around the house. Every time I’d start playing it, he’d show up, and without even speaking, he would plop himself in front of the piano, watching me intently as I’d play.

The only saving grace is that he disappears somewhere for a couple of days a week, which is when I can allow myself to relax a little. Even that, however, is short lived, because visions of him with someone else constantly plague me. I’m always left wondering who he’s meeting and what he’s doing. And that is not great for my peace of mind.

Although our situation had gotten increasingly worse, I have to admit I’d learned to gain a new respect for the man after I’d heard some of the things he’s been through.

I’m not ashamed to admit I’ve been eavesdropping every now and then—after all, it’s better to have as much information on your enemy as possible. And everything I’d learned so far has been quite enlightening. Like his enmity with his brother, or the fact that he’s currently a wanted man in New York.

It had quickly become obvious why he needs Cisco’s support, and why he’s taken residence in our house—for his own protection.

And that gives me pause. Because if it hadn’t been for my brother…

I’m positive he would have killed me.

A shudder goes through my body at the thought but I try to push it out of my mind.

As promised, Greta brings me a tray of food, and I quickly dive in. A little too hungry and focused entirely on the food, it takes me a while to realize I’m no longer alone in the room.

‘What are you doing here?’ I snap, placing the tray on the nightstand and raising my blanket to my chin.

‘My, my,’ he drawls, coming inside my room and closing the door. He leisurely walks around, an arrogant smirk on his face. ‘I didn’t think you’d give up so quickly, little liar.’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘You think I haven’t realized you’ve been avoiding me?’ He makes a tsk sound at me before he stops right at the end of my bed, his eyes on me as he’s thoroughly assessing me.

‘Get out,’ I demand, pointing towards the door. ‘You’re not allowed in my room,’ I try to imbue my voice with confidence.

‘Really?’ he chuckles. ‘Do you think I’ll pounce on you?’ he asks as he rounds the bed, coming to my side and sitting on the edge of the bed.

I quickly scramble away from him, but his hand shoots out, his fingers wrapped around my arm as he brings me flush against him. I blink rapidly, my body terrified of the nearness while my soul continuously weeps at the hatred I see reflected in his eyes.

When will this stop?

‘I thought it’s only fair to come and inform you myself of a new development,’ his mouth quirks up.

‘New development?’ I frown.

His fingers burn a hole in my arm, his touch both poisonous and revitalizing.

‘You’re getting married,’ he states squarely, his eyes emotionless as he stares at me intently.

‘Married?’ I squeak, my eyes widening in shock.

Now, that, is the last thing I would have ever expected, and I can’t help the way my jaw becomes slack, my mouth opening and closing but no sounds coming out.

Marriage?

Another marriage?

Sick laughter bubbles inside of me as I realize Cisco is selling me again. What did I expect, really?

By all intents and purposes, I am young and still useful to the family. It doesn’t really matter that I’m damaged beyond repair. I can still pull a pretty price.

‘I didn’t think you’d be this happy,’ he notes as he watches me burst out in laughter.

‘Happy?’ I repeat. ‘Happy?’ I shake my head at him, the laughter soon turning into sobs, tears coating my lashes. ‘Is that why you’re here? To gloat at my misfortune?’ I ask, flinging his hand from me and getting out of bed. ‘Then congratulations. You’ve won,’ I breathe out, pacing the room as panic threatens to overwhelm me.

He doesn’t reply, merely leaning back and watching me closely. The bastard must be preening inside.

That’s when another thought arises.

‘You had something to do with it, didn’t you?’ I stop, pointing my finger at him accusatorily.

‘What if I did?’ He smirks, plopping himself on my bed, and resting his head against the headboard.

‘You…’ I seethe.

Of all the things he could have done to me, I would have never expected this. But he’s not an idiot. He must have heard all about my first disastrous marriage and had likely realized my weakness…

Damn! He’s been biding his time all along, hasn’t he? Pretending he couldn’t actually harm me because he needed my brother while planning this—the ultimate hit.

‘You do need a man to keep you in check,’ he raises an eyebrow at me, making himself at home on my bed. ‘Someone to keep you on a very tight leash,’ he chuckles.

‘So this was your plan all along? Convince my brother I need another husband so what? So you could make sure I’ll be miserable for the rest of my life?’

Words simply fail me as I stare at him and at the culmination of his so called vengeance. Because there’s nothing worse than being married off—again.

And as his smile continues to grow, I realize that it had been his plan all along.

‘Well done, Raf. Well done,’ I praise sarcastically, attempting to put on a strong front though my soul is slowly withering inside of me.

‘Thank you,’ he replies cheekily. ‘I’m rather proud of it myself,’ he drawls, his eyes glinting dangerously as he looks at me.

‘Who is it, then? Who did you decide would make the best husband?’

Countless scenarios play before my eyes, and I know that the options are limited. Another aging man? Maybe another sadist, since the first one wasn’t bad enough. And if Raf had been the architect of this particular plan…then I expect someone disturbed enough to make my life a living hell.

‘Wouldn’t you want to know?’ The corner of his mouth pulls up as he jumps up from the bed, prowling towards me.

Backing away, I can’t help the way my body starts trembling at his advance. As soon as my back hits the wall, though, he’s on me, caging me in and looking down at me with those cold eyes of his that have the power to bring winter into my heart.

‘Let go,’ I whisper, looking away.

I don’t know how much longer I can keep my bravado up. Not with the news I just received, and certainly not with his intoxicating presence demanding a piece of my soul.

‘Aren’t you curious?’ He smirks down at me. ‘I can tell you. After all, I chose him myself,’ he brags, and a newfound terror envelops me at his confirmation.

‘What is he, a wife beater? A rapist?’ I ask in a hopeless tone.

‘Do you want him to be?’

‘What…’ I shake my head at him, trying to push at his shoulders. ‘You’re sick,’ I mutter, tears threatening to make their way down my cheeks. ‘When will you leave me alone?’ I cry out. ‘I told you Lucero was my friend. I told you I would have never…’ my voice wanes as I choke on a sob. ‘Haven’t I suffered enough? Why…’

‘You haven’t, little liar,’ he says in a smooth voice, his thumb coming under my jaw and tipping me up so I’m looking at him. ‘You haven’t suffered at all yet. But I’ll make sure to remedy that. I told you I’ll make you rue the day we met, and I aim to keep my promise.’

‘How many times do I have to tell you I didn’t do what you’re accusing me of? You think I was happy at the hacienda? You think I was fine being Sergio’s wife?’ My voice goes up a notch, all the frustration inside of me coming to the surface. ‘You have no idea what I went through,’ I tell him, banging my fist to his chest. ‘You have no idea what it was like living there, yet you judge me for what? For one glimpse into my life?’

‘Ah, little liar,’ he chuckles. ‘Don’t tell me you’re the victim now?’

‘And if I am?’ I counter. ‘You knew Sergio. You knew what type of man he was—how awful and violent he was. Did you think he was any better than his wife?’

For the first time there’s a flicker of emotion in his eyes. But as soon as it appears it’s gone.

‘Is that what you’re going to go with now? That you were somehow a victim in the entire thing?’ he gives a dry laugh. ‘Your brother warned me, you know. He told me you have this idea that everyone is against you—that everyone is out to harm you.’

I shake my head, unable to believe what I’m hearing.

How many times have I tried to explain what had happened to me only to be met with disapproving and unyielding stares? How many times had I been told my perception must have been altered by my trauma? How many times have I been branded crazy just for speaking out?

Why is it so hard to believe that a man would raise his hand against his wife? That he would beat her again and again until there’s barely anything left of her—until she might still draw breath, but her soul is long dead?

‘You’re all the same,’ I whisper, a feeling of loneliness unlike any I’ve ever felt taking root deep inside of me. ‘You only accept as truth that which serves your purpose. Never more, never less.’

‘Fine. If you were a victim, then explain to me what I saw, how you’d delight in making everyone miserable. Tell me why Lucero would tell me all the awful things you’d do to her and the people around you; how you would exploit and punish every slave that dared to look your way. Tell me why everyone called you la diabla.’ He raises a brow at my bewildered expression.

‘Explain to me how that makes you a victim,’ he demands with a sick smile on his face.

I’m speechless as I turn my tear-streaked eyes to look at him. Because I have no answer for that. I don’t remember any of that…

‘You can’t, can you?’ He snides.

‘I don’t remember,’ I say, my voice barely above a whisper.

‘How convenient,’ he tsks at me, his fingers coming up to brush the tears from my face. ‘Just like your tears. Too bad they don’t work on me, Noelle. Not when I know what you’re really like.’

‘But you don’t,’ I retort in a small protest. ‘Not really. You only know what you’ve heard of me.’

‘Don’t forget I have first-hand experience with your wonderful temper, too,’ he sneers at me, his hand closing over my jaw in a painful grip. ‘Say, hypothetically, that you didn’t kill Lucero with your own hands. But you certainly had everything to do with the bruises on her skin. The way she could barely talk sometimes because her entire body would be too swollen from your lovely punishments,’ he says ironically.

‘I didn’t…’

‘Save the excuses for someone who’ll believe you, little liar. But make no mistake, from now on…’ he trails off, his mouth spreading into a twisted smile. ‘I’ll make sure you get what you deserve.’

He’s off me, taking a step back and assessing me with disinterest in his gaze—as if I were a no one. And that somehow makes my heart bleed. The fact that I’m little more than dirt on his shoe.

A whimper escapes me as he makes to leave, and before I know it, I launch myself after him, grabbing his arm and stopping him.

‘Who?’ My entire body is trembling at this point, my breath ragged. ‘Who is he?’ I ask, dreading the answer.

His eyes darken, and in a satisfied tone, he utters the words that end me.

‘Me. Who else?’