Lucian’s Reign: A Billionaire Romance
Lucian’s Reign: Chapter 8

“Lust toward him is a sin.

A sin that calls my name every single day.

Like a sickness that has no cure.

And as such, it becomes a curse in disguise.”

Esmeralda

From Evangeline’s Diary…

My shaky handwriting smears the white pages of this diary as the door next to me shakes violently from the blows a man on the other side delivers to it. “Open the fucking door!” he screams, and I scrunch my eyes, digging the tip of the pen too hard on the paper and leaving a hole. I pay no attention to it, continuing to write… or my sobs would echo through the room.

And if there is one thing my prince truly hates is to see my tears or hear me cry, because then something different overtakes him.

Or rather someone else.

Someone who I don’t know, a man capable of such violence that fear consumes me whole and bile rises in my throat, ready to spill all over my lap just at the idea of facing him again.

Because bruises still smear my back. The harsh imprint of a belt buckle is visible from where he hit me so many times. At some point, I passed out and later woke from the deep pain overwhelming my entire system, lying in a pool of blood and urine.

He hurt me so much I pissed myself, and somehow the humiliation mixed with the agony was so strong I stayed in the bathroom for three days, ignoring the festering wounds and fever making me dizzy. I just lay on the cold tile.

On the third day, he flicked the key open and entered. With red-rimmed eyes, he sank to his knees, crawling toward me. “Forgive me, love. I didn’t mean it. I just got so angry I couldn’t control it.” He wrapped his arms around me, and a sob slipped past my lips. “Let me tend your wounds.” And he picked me up, calling a doctor who can apparently keep his mouth shut as long as he gets money in his pocket. The doctor cleaned the bruises, applied medicine to them, and then bandaged my back. He warned me to stay in bed for few days or maybe even a week.

During all this time I was silent, just warily watching my prince’s every move as he hovered over me, bringing me food and reading books to me or just sitting on the bed as he played with my hair, showing me his love.

He promised to never let the rage overcome him again, that it was just temporary madness that had no place in my life, and he assured me everything would go back to normal.

He even offered to call Esme who has been living with my grandmother for the past year. While she never was granted an official guardianship from me—I wasn’t so stupid to let her have all the rights—we struck a deal. As long as Esme stayed happy and was allowed to do what her heart desired, she would live at their mansion. In turn, I agreed to see her only once a month over the weekend to let her adjust to her new life better.

Although my heart broke each time because she hugged me so close, whispering to take her away, and when I said no…

She had this look in her eyes, this dead look that chilled my blood and made me question all my decisions in life.

Grandmother was so good to her though, constantly praising her achievements and taking her to competitions where she won more awards. Wasn’t this what she wanted? It might be selfish, but I just had no energy to deal with that after Mom’s death.

And art apparently heals a soul or so the shrink said who told me Esme had experienced trauma, but she would overcome it in time.

Still, I felt like the worst sister in the world, especially when Esme told me if I loved her, I wouldn’t let her stay with Grandmother.

His arms soothed me though along with whispers of forever as he held my ring finger up, studying the platinum band with diamonds on it. He had proposed the minute we moved in together.

But after my prince beat me, everything was lit up in different colors, flashing all our time together and tainting it with a disgusting darkness. Small details I hadn’t noticed before sent alerts through me, forcing me to study his behavior from a different angle.

His irrational jealousy that somehow always ended up being my fault, his disapproval of my friends after the birthday party, and how they slowly stopped calling. How he hated me cheerleading, and I became so fed up with the arguments I quit. I even changed my wardrobe so he wouldn’t accuse me of trying to seduce other men.

He basically placed me in his penthouse, disconnecting me from the other world and rarely allowed me to go anywhere without him unless it was school, but even there, his driver took me, probably taking notes about my actions.

He showed up on campus a few times, giving deadly stares to whoever came close to me, which earned me a stay-away reputation because no one wanted to get in trouble.

And while I found most of it strange, I let it go because I loved him, and after losing Mom and Esme, he was all I had.

Besides, I fought so hard with Mom over this relationship. How could I give up on it so easily, right?

But after the incident with the belt… when he beat the crap out of me only because I dared to say I would go to a baby shower my friend hosted regardless of his approval.

He snapped.

All his care during that week didn’t diminish my feelings or make me believe in his words about change and it never happening again.

My mother drilled into me from an early age that if a man doesn’t mind hurting you, you should run.

Because sooner or later, he would hurt you again.

He stopped being the man for me the minute he dared to raise a hand to me.

Every time he touched me or kissed me, revulsion rushed through my system, demanding I scream at him and race outside the apartment far, far away from this monster.

He had all the keys though, and with no means of communication, I couldn’t do anything but play along. His whole face brightened when I whispered my forgiveness, and he booked us a vacation to the Bahamas the minute I got better.

I refused all his attempts to call Esme. I would never allow him to be near her again.

Today he finally left the house, and I sprang into action, storming his office to get my documents from his safe that thankfully I memorized the password to.

Only, what I found in there made me barf all over the floor, swaying to the side and gripping the table with both hands for balance as the hideous images from the pictures and folders played in my mind.

Him hitting me ended up being just the tip of the iceberg, and before thinking about it, I dialed a number in his office he told me to only call if I urgently needed something.

A man he considered a friend who probably didn’t even know what he truly hid behind the mask my prince showcased to the world.

Someone else picked up on the other end, assuring me he’d inform him about my call as soon as possible. So I gathered all the paperwork, ready to rush from the apartment, but that’s when he showed up.

He swept his green eyes over me, understanding hitting him at once, and he bolted after me but not before I managed to lock myself inside his office. He has an additional lock in here so for now it gives me protection, but not for long.

“Open the fucking door, Evangeline.” He repeats again and again, anger lacing his every word. “Or I swear—”

Zoning out, I don’t even bother to listen to whatever crap he spits because all this man knows is to tell lies.

My mom was so right when she said to stay away from him. I should have listened. Parents are not always right when it comes to such things, but my mom never forbade me anything unless it endangered me.

The door handle shakes as he presses on it over and over again, banging on the door and trying to rip it out. Considering the muscles he covers with his shirts, I’m sure he will succeed sooner rather than later, and I will be powerless against his rage.

The reason I’m even writing right now is to let someone know about his hideous crimes and what he has done to me in case his friend arrives too late. I will hide it under the chair. If he kills me, the police will have to come and search the place anyway. He might fool everyone around him about his identity and what his business truly entails, but he won’t be able to cover up my death or make it seem like I’m alive.

My father’s famous name will finally come in handy.

So I pray right now, for myself and Esme, holding her image in my head as my little angel doesn’t deserve to be left all alone in this world.

Thoughts about her will make me survive any pain and grab onto life as hard as I possibly can.

Compared to my prince who turned out to be a monster, the man I called to help has integrity, a heart, if his interaction with older people is anything to go by.

My only hope right now is Lucian Cortez.

If he doesn’t come in time to save me… I pray he saves Esme from my prince’s clutches and won’t let him destroy her life as he did mine.

Because compared to me, she didn’t choose him, and instead he was dragged into her life like a disease eating out healthy cells and slowly killing the body from the inside.

My prince.

I wish I could cross out every reference like that I made to him in this diary and use his real name.

As people need to know the monsters of this world by name.

The name of the man who wears a mask of a good citizen but instead participates in the most vicious crimes.

And I’m willing to sacrifice my life in order for the world to know it.

His name is

Esmeralda

The chirping of birds in the distance disturbs me, and I burrow my head harder in the silky pillow, groaning a little when my body sends aching sensations through me as I float on cloud nine because the mattress almost swallows me whole.

Shifting the blankets closer to me, I tangle my legs in them and try to go back to sleep, needing a bit more rest but the chirping intensifies, almost making me believe I’m in a forest. The wind brushes over my exposed skin, nipping on it gently, and I shiver a little despite the warmth surrounding me.

Sighing in exasperation, I roll onto my back and snap my eyes open only to close them again when the sun coming from the balcony door shines so brightly it blinds me. “The man clearly doesn’t believe in curtains,” I grumble, rising on the bed and blink a few times adjusting my vision.

My gaze lands on my finger, the ring glistening and reflecting the sunshine, sending colorful shadows on the blanket, and my mind instantly goes to my man.

A man who introduced me to things I could only dream about last night, playing my body like a virtuoso maestro, and I was a helpless instrument in his hands ready to emit any tunes he wished.

His every touch, kiss, lick, and thrust brought me so much pleasure I might get addicted to him and not ever search for the cure for this desire that fills my every bone.

Bringing the ring closer to me, I give it a soft kiss, and a happy laugh spills from my lips at the thought of marrying my charming asshole who turned my world upside down and brought so many twisted and new emotions. I think a lifetime won’t be enough to uncover them all.

Speaking of my fiancé.

Frowning, I look around the spacious room and for the first time study the environment around me.

White and brown dominate the room, highlighting bare walls where only a wooden clock hangs right above a small bar located in the left corner close to the balcony sliding door. I suspect it leads to a view of the entire mansion and gardens since most master bedrooms are designed in such a way the owner has access to his territory at all times.

I can just imagine my handsome man drinking whiskey while he leans on the railing and watches everyone like a hawk, ready to strike anyone who dares to threaten his peace.

Heat scorches me, lust rushing through my veins, tickling my sore muscles just thinking about it, and I shake my head but store this fantasy to explore later.

A brown king-sized bed stands right in the middle with the matching nightstands on either side. The gold marble tile feels cold against my feet when I swing my legs to the side and step on it.

Two polished brown doors lead to the open closet and the bathroom. A small desk stands several feet away with a swivel chair. A chessboard is on the table alongside a stack of books, several of them flipped open.

Spotting Lucian’s shirt from last night, I grab it and put it on while walking toward the desk. I drop onto the chair and pick up a book, too curious to know what he reads about to resist the temptation.

During our dates, he never discussed his hobbies or literature preferences. In fact he struck me as a man who isn’t interested in art much and withstands it only for my sake.

Which should have been a good indication to marry the man, right?

“Oh my,” I murmur, realizing they all talk about human psychology, especially about psychopaths and serial killers, going further into their psyche with hideous pictures that make me snap it shut and place it back on the desk.

I’ve never gone to college or bothered with school generally. Most of my teachers considered me too stupid and always preached how lucky I was to have my artistic talent because, otherwise, my future would be grim.

As a result, I don’t really have much knowledge on the subject, and besides even if I had a choice, I’d never touch psychology.

I do not care for the justifications or explanations when it comes to monsters.

Viewing other books, I realize they are all centered around the same subject with only one about human anatomy, and it sends uneasiness through me, not really knowing what to think about his interests.

A knock tears me away from my thoughts that are ridiculous in their nature since he owes me no explanation for his interests and surely doesn’t need my approval to dwell on the subject deeper, and I call out, “Come in.”

Harold enters and then covers his eyes, muttering, “I apologize. I thought you said come in.” He’s ready to bolt, and it hits me that I’m wearing only a shirt.

A shirt that’s longer than some of my dresses. “It’s okay. I’m decent.”

He removes his hand, and I notice a designer bag hanging on his elbow while he holds a tray with a steaming cup. “Señor said you love green tea.” He strolls to me, still keeping his eyes on my face as he puts the tray in front of me, and I inhale a jasmine smell, my stomach growling loudly, and Harold shakes his head. “You need food. What would you like to eat?”

Wrapping my hands around the cup, I sigh at the warmth and rub my feet against each other since the icy marble floor is seriously freezing in here. Lucian needs to invest in rugs and curtains, otherwise this engagement won’t last long. “I’m starving so whatever.” I glance at the clock that shows it’s ten past eleven, and although I’ve never slept in this late unless I spent the night painting till I dropped in exhaustion, there are no regrets now. “Whatever Lucian had.”

The corner of his mouth lifts up. “He doesn’t eat breakfast.”

Oh.

This information along with the books show in a vivid light how little I know about my fiancé and earlier doubts slip back in.

People stay engaged for years. You’ll have enough time to get to know him.

The thought somehow calms me down, cancelling the familiar panic that would probably rear its ugly head quite often now since I dared to listen to my heart and ignore the mind.

Harold clears his throat, reminding me about his question, and I smile at him. “Let the cook surprise me.”

“Would you like to eat here or downstairs?”

“Downstairs.”

He half turns, ready to go when he stops and slaps himself on the forehead. “Ah, my old brain.” He extends the bag to me. “Here are clothes for you. Lucian figured your dress might be not suitable to wear.” My cheeks burn, probably becoming bright red under his understanding gaze and remembering how Lucian tore it apart while getting to me.

Not suitable to wear indeed.

“Thank you.” I get up and take it from him. “Where is Lucian?”

“He needed to take care of some things in the office, but he said he would be done by noon.”

“Awesome.”

He gives me one last nod and goes to the door, leaving me alone once again.

Peeking inside the bag, I find a blue dress and snatch it out, quickly removing my shirt. I could have taken a shower, but I like Lucian’s scent attached to me.

The dress ends just above my knees and flows around me in waves, held together by the small straps.

Without bothering to check myself in the mirror, I put on the lacy panties and slip into my sandals ready to go outside.

The minute I step into the huge hallway, seemingly spreading for miles, portraits occupying the walls greet me, showcasing men of different ages painted in their dashing suits.

Under each one of them a name is written, and understanding dawns on me.

They are the heads of the Cortez family dating from the late nineteenth century, and although they smile, the heaviness of their persona forces you to avert your gaze from them, which adds to the gloomy atmosphere in the hallway that’s already dark due to the brown tones dominating it.

Even the sun streaming through the windows doesn’t help much.

I see various doors leading to rooms off the different wings. God, their place is really enormous. Several statues are spread around the space. And judging by texture and technique used on them, they must have cost a fortune.

Walking toward the stairs, I feel so cold and out of place among the mausoleum created in here, and I shiver a little, wondering if Lucian plans to live here after we get married.

Wouldn’t it be better to just dedicate one room for all these guys rather than scare the crap out of everyone on the second floor?

Descending the stairs, I detect the smell of coffee floating on the air, and my eyes widen when the full view of the first floor opens up to me.

Red, gold, and brown dominate the color scheme, the marble floor glistening under the sun.

Expensive paintings hang on the walls, showcasing events from mythology, some of them from ancient Greece and others from ancient Rome. I know because I’ve painted them myself.

The myths fascinated me so much I couldn’t sleep or eat, wanting to finish all the images created in my head, needing to express the disturbing yet alluring world they all must have lived in if they truly existed.

This collection was sold off a few years ago, so how in the hell did he manage to get it?

A hallway leads to several arch-like doors, which probably consist of the dining, common, and terrace rooms present in most mansions, albeit this one must have several add-ons because the architecture screams prestige and luxury.

Expensive oak furniture fills the place, and the only thing missing to finish the composition would be a crystal chandelier to add brightness to the place; although, despite the change in décor, somehow the house still manages to draw you into the heaviness and a certain behavior, because I want to keep my back straight and not mess up.

Grandmother might be strict, but even her house didn’t evoke such emotions.

I hear hushed whispers coming from the kitchen, and then someone exclaims, “I will not survive without a dishwasher for long!” and then he starts muttering something followed by a heavy sigh.

I tiptoe closer, looking and not spotting anyone, while I continue to listen to the conversation. “Come on, Ricardo! Renovations take time.”

I peek inside and see a man who must be in his sixties wearing a white apron and slapping his towel at Harold who glares at him. “Why does my kitchen suffer because of it? I do not need new equipment.” He picks up the frying pan, puts it on the stove, and cracks a few eggs in it before adding chopped tomatoes, and my stomach growls again, demanding the food right now. “In fact, why is Lucian turning the house upside down and changing all the first floor!” He throws some salt in it while adjusting the temperature of the oven and opens it up. I groan inwardly seeing several muffins baking in there. “He ignored this mansion for years, preferring New York, and now he’s back and brings all this chaos with him.” He frowns, his gray mustache and eyebrows furrowing.

Harold slaps his hand on the counter, digging his finger in Ricardo’s belly. “You complained for years about the issues in the kitchen.” He opens his mouth to protest, but Harold’s next words strike him speechless, and even his jaw drops. “He’s getting married.”

Ricardo stays silent for a few seconds all while the frying pan keeps crackling, and without turning to it, he turns off the stove. “I’m cooking an omelet right now for his future wife?” he asks, and at Harold’s nod, he exclaims, “Mierda!” He grabs the pan and races toward the black bin standing by the sink while Harold just rolls his eyes, apparently finding the outburst a usual occurrence. “Why didn’t you tell me? I’d cook her my famous pancakes!”

“They’re famous only among us.”

He removes the pan’s lid ready to throw away my omelet, and my stomach weeps in protest.

“No!” I yell, entering the kitchen and showing myself to them. They simultaneously swing their heads in my direction. “I love omelets, and I’m so hungry I might die.”

They gape at me for several seconds before breaking into action.

Harold quickly runs to the round table in the left corner of this huge kitchen that’s indeed under renovations because various pieces of equipment are missing with a few holes in the cabinetry, and most of the dishes are wrapped in paper or inside huge boxes.

Despite the chaotic environment, it’s so squeaky clean my shoes almost slip on the tile. And fragrant flowery smells float around, bringing freshness to the room.

Harold points at the chair, pulling it out. “Please sit down, miss.”

“You can call me Esme.” He nods, but by reading his expression, I know it’s not going to happen.

Ricardo places my omelet on a plate and opens the drawer, the silverware rattling before he takes out a fork and knife for me.

He puts it in front of me, and saliva forms in my mouth at the smells coming from the plate.

He wipes his hands on his apron and speaks up. “Muffins will be ready soon, and the tea is brewing.”

Oh crap, I forgot about my tea back in the room. “That’s great.”

Picking up my fork, I dig into the omelet, raise it to my mouth, and pause, noticing two sets of eyes staring at me expectantly. Amusements builds inside me at the picture they represent.

Eating it up, I groan at the taste and give Ricardo a thumbs-up, munching on my bite and digging for another one.

He beams at me. “A woman with a good appetite. Me gusto.”

“We were going to serve you in the dining room,” Harold says apologetically.

“If it’s full of portraits, I’ll pass.” Ricardo laughs at that but stops at Harold’s little nudge. “Have a seat, guys.”

They both blink in surprise, but then to my astonishment, both sit down. Usually, the staff refuses to do so.

Ricardo’s eyes fall on the ring. “He proposed.” A beat and then, “Not with a family ring either.” Harold nudges him again. “What? It’s the truth.”

“Shut your mouth,” he hisses and quickly sends a glance my way. “That’s one gorgeous ring.” He pauses and locks his hands on the table. “Better than the family one. I’m sure Lucian picked it for that reason.” The old man is really adorable trying to make sure his boss doesn’t get in trouble with me, but he doesn’t have to worry.

Family heirlooms don’t interest me.

“So you’ve been working here for a long time?” I decide to change the subject, shoveling in more of my omelet.

They both nod, but only Harold replies. “Forty-five years for Ricardo and fifty for me.” Wow. That’s some dedication to the family. “Most of our lives have been spent behind these walls.”

“I remember being a twenty-year-old boy looking for a job, but no one wanted to give it to me. Señor Alejandro took pity on me and told me to cook the best dish I could think of to impress him. Ever since then, I’m here.” Warmth coats his voice at mentioning Lucian’s grandfather, which contrasts so much with how my man spoke of him.

Harold nods. “Yes. He gave me the most important job in this house, to look after his heir, Juan, without any recommendations. I made sure he never regretted it.” Affection along with sadness laces his tone, and he sighs heavily. “Except he did. At the end of it. I failed him, and as a result, I failed Lucian.”

Everything inside me freezes, not understanding what he means. How could he have failed him if Lucian came to live with them at thirteen?

Ricardo squeezes Harold’s hand before noticing I finished my food and snatches up my plate, getting up. “Juan grew up in front of our eyes. Funny, happy, smart. It was impossible not to laugh in his company.” He places my plate in the sink and then goes to the oven, putting on mitts and taking out the muffins. “Addiction ruined all that.”

My eyes widen at this information.

Addiction?

Harold rolls his lips together before speaking up again. “Yes. Alcohol turned him into a person we no longer recognized.”

“It became the curse of this house,” Ricardo says, pouring tea in three cups before placing them on the tray and then grabbing three saucers for muffins. “Our bright boy was no more.” He strolls back to the table and then gives us all tea and dessert, dropping onto the seat again.

I’m desperately trying to understand why they would consider him a boy if they must have been close in age when it hits me.

Juan was eighteen when he fathered Lucian so he would be at least a decade younger than these guys.

“I’m so sorry for your loss.” Although their confessions raise more questions in my head about my fiancé. Reaching for Harold’s hands—whose shoulders sagged as sorrow filled his gaze—I pat him. “It’s hard to lose people you love.”

“Thank you, miss.” Before he can say anything else, a doorbell rings in the distance, and Harold pushes his chair back, getting up. “I’ll be right back.”

Sliding the mug closer to me, I debate whether to dive into the dessert or not when Ricardo breaks the silence.

Evidently he isn’t done sharing. “Harold took his addiction the hardest. Especially when it reflected on Lucian.” He breaks the muffin and dips it into his tea.

My mug pauses midway to my mouth at this information, coldness slipping into me as Lucian’s scarred body flashes in my mind, the red angry slashes marring his skin screaming about pain and hurt. “He abused him. When he got drunk. Didn’t he?”

Ricardo chokes on his muffin and spits it in his mug, splashing tea over the table and then coughs several times. “Good God.” He croaks, “Never. Alejandro and Juan would never have done such stuff. The Cortez family doesn’t go against or harm their own.”

Then who did? And what happened in the past that ruined their relationship irrevocably?

The appearance of Harold strolling back into the kitchen and holding a thick envelope breaks my train of thought, and he extends it to me. “A courier brought a package for you.”

My brows furrow, but I reach out for it anyway. “But how would the sender know I’m here? I never told anyone.” Tension swirls in the air at my admission, and Harold grips the folder too hard despite me already grabbing it. After my pull, he reluctantly allows me to take it while exchanging glances with Ricardo. “Maybe it’s another of Lucian’s surprises.” My light humor doesn’t relax them one bit. “Okay,” I mutter and then jump up, ready to check it out in my room because who knows what the man has planned? Or maybe Lila knew about his original surprise and sent me something here in advance so it would come today? “Thank you so much for the breakfast, guys. It was delicious.” I smile at Ricardo who just sighs heavily, and then I shift my attention back to Harold. “If you see Lucian, tell him I’ll be looking for him later.”

“Maybe you should open it up in his company,” he suggests, stepping away a little. “I could show you to his office. After all, wouldn’t it be better to check his surprise together.”

“No. If he went through all this trouble, then I think I should do it alone.” Too confused with their expressions that almost shout their fear, I walk around Harold and in record time get upstairs and to Lucian’s room. “Let’s see if it tops the fireworks.”

Perching on the desk, I tear the envelope and seize a letter out along with a stack of photos.

Without glancing at them, I put the photos and envelope on the desk and open the letter.

Monsters hide in the dark.

Monsters crave your blood.

Monsters stake their claim.

All while wearing their mask.

See his true face, Esmeralda.

And maybe then you’ll finally realize we’re one and the same.

Frowning at the weird riddle, I pick up the photos, and the minute my eyes land on the first one, I still, barely breathing, while fear penetrates every cell in my body along with familiar terror paralyzing me.

Chopped limbs are scattered all around while a man looms over them, holding a drill in his hands. A red liquid pool surrounds him. Footprints from his shoes lead from what used to be a man who is nailed to the wall.

Almost in a trance, I flip to another one. This one has a dark-haired man stabbing a man with a knife, whose mouth is wide open, and I can almost hear his agonized scream in my head.

Matching the one from a long time ago.

No, no. Please don’t. Please don’t. Run, Esme, run!

With a whimper, I cover my ears while the photos fall from my grip, smacking the floor. All of them depict cruelty and horrendous deeds in different forms and varieties of a man.

Countless dead victims, pouring blood, terror in their eyes—at least for those who were lucky enough to keep them until the very end.

Run, Esme, run!

Shaking my head, I whimper again, pressing my ears harder, hoping to wipe away the voice in this moment, and Lucian instantly comes to my mind.

I need to find him and show these to him, as whoever sent them to me has decided to engage in a sick game, probably knowing about the best-kept secret in my family.

I take a step toward the door, ready to race into the hallway when one of the photos snags my attention.

A man sits under a lamp, his face fully displayed. A sinister smile curves his mouth, and his gloved hands are smeared in blood from the knife dripping on the floor.

Hunching down, I clench it in my fists, still refusing to acknowledge what my eyes are screaming at me. I lift it closer to my face, recognizing the man and seeing him in every other photo.

His dark hair.

His muscled physique.

His style of clothes.

His tan skin.

And the whiskey glass he so loves.

The man who ruthlessly killed all these people… is Lucian.

Devastation slams into me, making me sway, and I land on my ass with a scream trapped in my throat. I fist the photo, my tears dripping on it while pain travels through me, replacing every other emotion and causing flashbacks.

Screams, blood, the knife.

The man who I agreed to marry, who became my first and who made me look at my life in a different light… engages in the same activities as the man who killed my mother… desiring to do the same to me.

His hands responsible for all this touched me, his lips kissed me, and the idea of it all makes me sick.

The bile in my throat rises and nausea hits me so hard I run to the bathroom and barely manage to reach the toilet before spilling my breakfast into it, just imagining how close I came to falling in love with this murderer.

Someone who knows him well wanted to warn me, and I have to be smart to use this warning wisely.

Coughing, I get up and turn on the sink, washing my mouth while my survival instincts that are so familiar to me kick in, and I will my mind to block away the heartbreaking emotions demanding I sink to my knees and cry until nothing is left. For daring to believe in something good, only to realize it was an illusion of a monster’s creation.

Instead, I sharpen my mind to focus on how to get away from here, scenarios swirling in my head. I remember Harold’s expression. Now his fear has merit… because these two men know what their señor engages in, which means they might tattle on me.

Twisting the faucet off, I turn on the shower instead, opening the door wide so the noises can be heard from a distance, tricking anyone into thinking I’m taking one.

Then I race back into the room and search for my torn dress, finding it under the bedcovers, and snatch my credit card along with the ID hiding in the pocket, all while removing my shoes so I won’t make a sound on the marble.

All I need to do is get outside, grab a cab, and go to the authorities. I won’t even trust that security guy Derek. They all work for monsters, and as such, they excuse his deeds because no sane man would stay by his side, knowing his twisted nature.

I grab several pictures from the stack because I will need proof to go against such a powerful man, and inhaling a deep breath, slowly crack open the door and tiptoe to the stairs while straining my ears to listen if anyone is downstairs.

Since no one makes a sound, I quickly rush down while still controlling my movements so I don’t make unnecessary noise. Once there, I go the door, exhaling in relief when no one is in sight.

Twisting the knob, I almost sob and race outside, thinking only about my mission and not how my soul shatters into tiny little pieces because the man and city that were supposed to be my sanctuary have become my nightmare.

But I should have known better, right?

Because love stories always inevitably turn into tragedies in my family.

Lucian

Harold barges into my office with Ricardo hot on his heels, worry carved on their features as they breathe heavily.

My brows rise, and I get up, slapping my hands on the table and leaning on it. “What’s going on?”

They’ve worked here the longest and are super anal about the rules made by my grandfather, so for them to come in without knocking…

Is a bad sign.

My mind at once goes to the beautiful woman I left in bed who finally slept soundly, finding peace after a restless night.

However, I’ve operated on five hours of sleep a night for a long time, so I came down to the office to fix a few issues before permanently relocating to Chicago. “Esmeralda?” I ask and they both pale.

Harold twists his hands, and Ricardo pushes him a little, urging him to speak up.

“I think I’ve made a terrible mistake.” Since I stay silent, he continues. “A package arrived here addressed to Esmeralda, and I gave it to her without thinking.”

Everything inside me stills, the hunter snarling, already feeling the deception because no one knows she’s here.

I knew he would retaliate after my appearance in her life. No hunter likes another hunter sniffing near his prey; however, the coward dared to actually contact her.

Brave enough to play games, not brave enough to come face-to-face with me.

Ricardo pitches in. “We figured it might be suspicious.”

“Didn’t I order you to come to me first if anything of that sort happens?” My tone stays deadly, and both of them avoid my eyes, gluing their gazes to the floor. “Where is she?”

“She went upstairs and stayed there.”

So whatever she saw in the package wasn’t scary then?

Just what kind of game does this maniac play?

I pass them by and stroll through the hallway, ready to go upstairs when a slight breeze brushes my cheek, and my brows furrow.

Gripping the banister, I swing my head to the side and look at the front door, not quite understanding why the image seems off.

And then I notice a little opening where the breeze enters, revealing that someone must have gone outside.

Esmeralda.

“Mierda,” I say and rush outside and throw over my shoulder at Harold, “Call Paul. Tell him to come here as soon as possible.”

My woman must have found out the truth about me and, as expected, ran.

After all, it’s one thing to say yes to Prince Charming.

Quite another to marry a villain.

Too bad for her though, this particular villain won’t let go of the princess.

For he will slay any dragons or Prince Charmings standing in his way.

Esmeralda

My feet slap against the burning hot concrete, bruising my skin in the process, but it only urges me to speed up, to run as long as I still can.

Until the monster learns about my escape, because he will come for me.

If my life has taught me one thing… it’s that they do not like to leave loose ends and always prefer to finish their disgusting deeds.

My hands fist, and gulping for more air as sweat slides down my back, I take longer strides, almost whimpering at the sight of the iron gates several feet away.

Derek sits inside the small building for the security guards where they keep an eye on the entire property with video cameras. When he spots me, he gets up, surprise flashing on his face. “Hello, miss.” I halt my movements, and his gaze travels to my bare feet as an unreadable expression crosses his face. “Is everything all right?”

Plastering a smile that hurts my mouth, I reply, “Splendid. I just have to go. Emergency back home, you know?”

“I see.”

Although surprised at his easy manner, relief washes over me, and I walk to the small door next to the gate that’s wide open ready to step outside away from this haunting mansion.

A hand on my elbow stops me though, and he says, “I’m afraid you can’t leave without Lucian’s permission.”

Anger spikes inside me, flipping my stomach several times, and my nails dig into my palms while I hold back my true emotions that might be deadly in this moment. “We live in a free country, Derek, and I don’t need anyone’s permission but my own.” I pull at my elbow and his grip only tightens on me. “Let go!”

“I’ll have to call Lucian first.” He drags me closer to the office, but I dig my heels into the asphalt, pulling at my elbow again and finally freeing myself. I stumble back and barely keep my balance.

Then, before he can catch me again, I sprint outside moving my head from side to side as I try to see if there are any cars in the distance, but only a narrow, secluded road greets me with no one in sight.

“Miss, please get back here!” Derek shouts, already racing after me. With no other choice, I flee forward, hoping that the bulky man will get tired of following me and need to rest, and maybe if I run far enough, I might find someone.

The only thing that matters is survival. Until then even my aching muscles, hurting feet, and bleeding heart do not have a voice and are muted inside my head.

Heavy thumps follow me, more intense and less frequent than before, alerting me to Derek’s changing pace, so I push myself to speed up, using all I’ve got to run.

My lungs burn, demanding I stop and take deeper breaths, but doing that would mean giving Derek a better chance, and I will not risk it.

A gust of wind whooshes over me, blowing my hair and blocking my vision for a second, and I hear loud honking.

Pushing my hair back, my eyes widen and a scream erupts from my throat at the sight of a car in front of me, but the vehicle isn’t stopping, and fear slams into me.

It moves so rapidly I have no way of escaping.

I close my eyes only to snap them open again when strong arms wrap around my waist and lift me up, turning us to the side a second before the car stops with a screech.

Too stunned at what could have been, I still and watch as a tall, lean man wearing a shirt and jeans, his blond hair gleaming in the sunlight, gets out of the car.

He walks around the vehicle and removes his sunglasses, uncovering his crystal-clear green eyes. Although their color rivals those of the most expensive emeralds… they are filled with such coldness, they remind me of a reptile ready to feast on his prey.

His symmetrical features have probably earned him a good reputation with the ladies, but all the handsomeness in the world cannot change the vibe present around me, which alludes to darkness and danger.

“What the fuck, Lucian?” he exclaims, throwing his glasses on the seat. “I could have fucking killed her.”

His words serve as pouring water on me and snaps me out of my stupor as I realize who saved me, and hysterical laugher almost bursts out of me.

The monster saved me… to torture me later?

He has another think coming, then!

I hit his arm with my fists, thrashing in his hold, doing my best to free myself and resume my running. His strength is more uncomfortable than Derek’s; his arm doesn’t even twitch. “Let go of me, you psycho!” I scream, having a moment to see the strange man’s brows lift at that, and then he chuckles, finding my struggles amusing, which serves as a sign he probably knows his true nature well. “Let me—” I huff when Lucian spins me around just as I prepare to slap him in the face, but he dips down and throws me over his shoulder before I can even blink. “Put me down.” I pound his back, delivering my blows on his lower spine while kicking my legs, wanting to hurt his stomach, which might make him release me. “You’re a monster!”

The stranger trails behind us, throwing his keys at Derek as we pass him by, and asks Lucian, “No, seriously, what the hell is going on?” Then he winks at me, and I really wish I could claw out his smug expression. “Giving a good fight there, Esmeralda.”

Somehow my name on his lips sounds gruesome, and I wish he would never address me ever again.

And how does he know it anyway? I’ve never seen him before!

This man has creepy written all over him. No matter who might claim otherwise, I trust my gut.

“Rot in hell, whoever you are!” I bite Lucian’s back, sinking my teeth so deep I draw blood and leave a wound on the tan skin most likely above another scar.

The man continues to stroll back to the mansion as if oblivious to my desperation, and I hit Lucian some more, bending my knees to bump into him and twisting my knee a little.

He snatches something from his back pocket, his shoulder lowering slightly, and I dip down before coming up again.

A second later, a shot erupts, booming through the air. A few birds squawk loudly and fly into the sky. “Behave, gatita, or the next bullet might end up in someone’s body.” Freezing on top of him, I swallow past the bile in my throat while wondering how true this statement is.

Would he really shoot at his staff?

Despite them probably supporting his hideous deeds, I refuse to be responsible for their injury or death. “Good girl,” he murmurs, swatting me on the ass, and I bite on my tongue not to scream at him or kick him again.

“Get out.” Lucian addresses the man for the first time. I see anger sparking in those orbs of his at the command, but then he covers it under amusement once again. “Go back to Paris and stay there, Andreas.”

Andreas.

A silent partner in one of Lucian’s companies who has to stay away from the rich after the disastrous scandal where he forcibly tried to kiss Blair, and her relatives beat the shit out of him a few years back. He was adopted by a wealthy family when he was thirteen, and although he had a good education, he mostly stayed quiet and never tried to form any connections with anyone. Even Eugene disliked him but never explained why.

Well, wealthy by normal standards, but compared to Cortez, his family barely had anything, so no one really understood why they stayed best friends, although that would be a stretch now probably.

Andreas moved to Paris a few years back. Rumor has it Lucian banished him there after the kiss incident and kicked him out of the company.

Since he controlled most of their business, I’m not surprised.

“Lucian, come on. It’s been four years.”

Four years?

It means he tried kissing Blair when she was sixteen?

What a freaking perv!

“No me importa.”

I do not care.

“Lucian—”

“Sal.” He repeats for him to get out as he steps inside the house where the blasting air conditioning greets us, and Harold jumps around us. “Close the door and call Derek. If Andreas doesn’t want to go willingly, he can escort him.”

Anger appears on Andrea’s face as he snarls, “You cannot treat me like—” The door shuts in his face, and his next words are muffled. Then banging begins as he shouts something, and Harold smiles, pleased with himself.

Apparently, I’m not the only one who considers this guy a perv just by his vibe alone.

Lucian rushes upstairs, bumping me on his shoulder, and the older guys stay downstairs. “I will run away at the first opportunity.” Just to get my point across, I kick him hard, and he huffs a little.

He enters the room and drops me on the bed where I bounce before finding my balance and crawl to the other side to get away from him. He grabs something out of the bedside table and grips my wrist, slapping a silver cuff on it, and then secures the other one to the bedpost. “Don’t touch me!” I shout, pulling at my hand and hiss when the steel cuts into my skin. Sitting up straighter and pressing my back against the headboard, I pull one more time with no results while watching Lucian warily. “What are you going to do now? Rape me?” I spit the words. His hand wraps around my throat, squeezing it hard enough to feel his hot palm but not enough to bring me pain.

A half smile tugs at his mouth while his brown eyes blaze in anger. Fury coats his every word. “If I wanted to do so, gatita, I would just have to press here.” He brushes his thumb over my carotid artery lightly, breaking goose bumps on my skin as fear spreads inside me. I see him in a completely new light. The darkness swirling around him right now has stayed hidden all these weeks. “And you’d lose consciousness. Your body in my possession to do whatever I wish.” He tightens his grip, cutting my oxygen supply, and I slap his hand, trying to loosen his grip, but he only chuckles. “Or just throw myself on you.” He drags me forward as he leans closer, our mouths a breath away from each other, while my insides twist, my lungs demanding air, and I wiggle in his hold, but he stays relentless. “You see, darling, when someone stronger than you craves to hurt you, it doesn’t take much. Trust me.” He lets me go, and I cough violently, gulping for breath several times while rubbing my fingers over my throat. My heart gallops inside my chest and my hands shake a little. “Watch your words, Esmeralda. They have consequences.” A silent promise laces his voice, indicating to me he isn’t Mister Nice Guy anymore, and my soul hurts more than any physical discomfort he might have inflicted.

He deceived me.

A man who became my first is…

A person who doesn’t mind shooting the people who raised him as long as it gets his order followed.

How could I have been so stupid?

My body trembles, and I tuck my knees, circling my not cuffed arm around them so he won’t see it as he walks toward his desk and momentary stops by the pictures, shuffling them with the tip of his shoe. “I see it didn’t take much to convict me.” He clacks his tongue. “Shitty quality image, and you forgot all about the promises you made last night.”

“Not much? You killed all those men, and God knows how many more,” I croak, wincing a little at the pain in my throat. “Besides, I gave my promises to a man who was nothing but a mirage. An illusion.”

“Your hysterics start to bore me, gatita,” he warns and steps on the photos, reaching for the chair and pushing it closer to bed before straddling it while keeping his gaze on me. “For all this talk, you still wear my ring.” He rubs his chin. “Must be the bad-boy appeal, huh?”

Gasping, because I forgot about the damn thing that no longer represents hope and new beginning to me, I snatch off the ring and throw it in his face, but he manages to duck in time. “I hate it now. And you’re disgusting.” His chuckles vibrate between us. “What? You’re not even gonna convince me otherwise?”

“Why would I do that, gatita? The facts speak for themselves. I do kill. Frequently. Viciously. And with pleasure.” Anger mixed with fear and horror spreads through me at these words because there are no traces of remorse.

He truly loves what he does.

My God, what did I get myself into?

“You will go to prison,” I finally manage to say, and he rests his chin on the top of the chair, amusement flicking in his gaze. “People will search for me. I might be no one here, but I’m a Hugh! And a famous artist.”

“De verdad?”

“Yes, really! I will not be your captive for long!” I point at the photos. “These might have been forgotten, but I won’t be. Sooner or later the police will come knocking on your door, and they will find out all about you!” I end the last sentence on a shout that reverberates off the walls, but he just raises his brow while I breathe heavily.

“Ah, these dramatics remind me why I stay away from artists. You tend to blow things out of proportion with that vivid imagination of yours. Sensitive and emotional creatures.” I open my mouth to tell him what I think about him when he puts his finger to his lips. “You are right though. You will not be my captive for long.” My brows furrow in confusion as I shift on the bed a little, turning toward him and listening to whatever hideous thing he would say. “Tu serás mi esposa.”

The ringing in my ear starts as an invisible vacuum covers me from head to toe, leaving me in a bubble as dizziness overtakes me, because what he said makes no sense.

He cannot possibly expect me to marry him after all this!

Common sense pierces through the panic slowly enveloping me, slipping fear into my veins that chills my blood, and I whisper, “You want to marry me because then I wouldn’t be able to testify in court against you.” Of course, he knows how to cover his tracks and any witness will be destroyed.

His rich laughter glides over me, wrapping me in tight ropes that bruises my skin. “A wife can testify if she wants to. So that would have been a waste of my time.” He gets up, kicking the chair away and it falls on the floor with a loud thud. “You will marry me because I wish so. Granted, I would have done things differently, but you left me no choice.”

“I will not marry you!” I shout, sitting up on my knees and hissing when the cuff tightens against my skin, probably leaving marks on it. “When people come to check on me, I will tell them the truth.”

He comes closer to me and fists my hair, earning himself a groan when he tilts my head back and his other hand ends up on my cheek. “You will marry me tonight, gatita.”

“Never!” I spat. “Even if you drag me to the church kicking and screaming, I will still not say I do or sign anything.”

He pulls harshly, prickles of pain going through me, and my scalp aches so much I’m afraid he might rip my hair out. “You will do so willingly. Unless you don’t mind people you love suffering.” I freeze at this, blinking rapidly while hectically trying to understand the meaning behind his threat. “Ah, not so brave now, are we?” He loosens his grip, his fingers sliding over my head, soothing the earlier sting, but I detest his touch so much I sway my head to the side. I want to stand under the spray of water and wash all his touches away. “I will destroy every single one of your galleries. Slander your name to the point where people won’t do anything with you or any other artist even linked to you.”

His finger slides down my cheek toward my chin and then grips it, digging so hard my jaw hurts. “Bankrupt you grandmother’s dynasty. My wrath will know no bounds, Esmeralda.” Tears form in my eyes imagining all these people who might be affected because I have been so stupid and believed the lies he spoke. “You might think you do not care… but I know your loving nature. Deep down, you get attached easily but never give it a name. Love. Friendship. All these things exist in your world, and I will use every single one of them to get what I want.” A tear slides down my cheek, and he wipes it away.

“Please don’t make me do it,” I whisper, forgetting about my pride and succumbing to the desperation raging within me. “I can’t do it. Please.” Marriage is a sacred institution that should not be tainted by this charade. “I will stay your captive. Please.” As long as nothing permanently connects me to him, I can hope that someday someone will come and save me from him.

When they show up and see me as his captive, they will believe my story, but if I marry this monster… everyone will consider me on his side and never listen to a word I say.

And even when I do… I will just be judged by society who would think I let him participate in the crimes and stayed silent about it.

I waited four days in the cabinet under the kitchen sink.

I can wait this time too.

Lucian’s knuckles graze my cheek as he tips my head up and leans forward, placing his mouth on mine, and although revulsion rushes through me, I withstand the kiss and ignore the traces of a familiar reaction from my body.

It needs a few more minutes to catch up to the new reality.

“Harold will arrive soon with some wedding dresses. Pick the one you love the most,” he says, separating our mouths.

Shaking my head, I whisper, “No. Please don’t.” His blackmail makes me unable to refuse him, because a man who easily kills others… has no morals.

“It’s a done deal, darling. The sooner you accept it, the better.” He strolls to the door. When he reaches it, he flings something my way, and it falls on the bed, shimmering under the light.

A key!

I grab it, inserting it into the cuff and sob in relief when I release my hand, ready to run toward him only to see the door close and then the lock twist. “No!” I shout, banging on the door. “Let me go, Lucian!” All my pleas fall on deaf ears because the door stays closed and locked.

Whimpers escape me while I turn around and slide down the door, falling on my ass and crying into my hands. Life has left me no choice but to comply with his demands.

Madness and insanity reside in his soul, yet I failed to see them despite my experiences, which led me to my downfall.

I was wrong when I considered him a prince who broke the curse and saved the princess from loneliness.

Instead, he’s a villain who poisoned the princess and smeared her in darkness so much she had no choice but to stay in his hell right along with him.

For the price to pay for her freedom became too high.

Lucian

I crack my neck while the monster inside me roars at the fucker coming so close to my territory and distressing Esmeralda, but mainly for playing on her nightmares and delivering gruesome pictures to her on a silver platter.

However, with this action, he gave more information than he anticipated, telling me that whoever he is… he knows me well enough to predict my behavior toward Esmeralda.

A hunter might harm his prey, but he protects her from others because she sustains his life and desires.

By showing her the truth, he must have expected her reaction and how dangerous her position might become here if I let my temper rule me and force her to abide by my rules or touch.

In his warped mind though, his perfect creation was disrupted because of her so the prey needs to be punished, and what better way than to settle her with another monster who will open up old wounds?

But more importantly, he wanted to intimidate me, show me how he managed to spy on me in my dungeon all these months which indicates to me I have been on his radar for a long time too.

After all the copycat wants to build a new empire while I stand on his way.

Who wins the war?

The one who plans strategically.

Something my opponent lacks because he has no patience and acts on his emotions. His desire for absolute power is so strong he finally has to tie the loose ends in order to fulfill his next wish and build an empire.

For some reason, he hates who he used to be, and Esmeralda is a living, breathing reminder of that.

He has proven one thing right now.

Nothing will diverge him from his path, and he will attack soon, so I have to beat him to it and provide a contra attack.

He might have won a battle when he crushed Esmeralda’s heart and revealed my secret, but no victory is won without a few setbacks.

My woman is strong, ready to fight till her last breath and withstand any storm, but unfortunately for her, mercy and compassion were a privilege I never had in this world, so I will not display it toward her either.

I prefer her alive hating me while resting by my side.

Than dead while loving me.

Esmeralda will become my wife today.

And with this, the bullfight will begin… where only the death of the opponent will be a satisfying result.

For our marriage certificate will be a red flag that will snap his shaky control.

And where there is no control comes chaos.

Destroying everything in its wake.

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