Maybe my husband will get sick of me and send me home.
The bright idea seemed too fantastical, like a pipe dream.
Or perhaps he won’t care whether I stay close.
Some couples didn’t live together, after all.
I dropped my towel and stepped into the dress that I’d chosen. Wrinkling my nose at the tight fight of the dress one of the men’s girlfriends had purchased for me, I tried not to imagine myself being suffocated and molded.
I wanted my combat-ready pants. The plain shirts that wouldn’t be an obstacle while I surveyed the compound and checked things off. Arturo never appreciated how much I was his invisible, tireless assistant, but it was what I’d been trained to be. My father and mother valued my interest and ownership in the Cartel, and they’d seen to it that I wasn’t just a stupid pretty thing to look at.
Too bad that’s allheever treats me like.
I wanted to believe that if my brother weren’t so hell-bent on being in power, he’d be humble enough to admit I was much more than a tagalong or pain in the ass.
“Carina.”
I winced at the sound of his fist banging on the door.
“Move it. You need to leave.”
I need to do nothing but hold on to the hope that I’ll be home again. As soon as possible. And that it won’t be too late to pick up the pieces of this Cartel and save our family’s legacy.
Chin held high, dress secured, and strappy—impractical—heels under my feet, I strode for the door and hoped to mask my loathing for him.
He rolled his eyes. “Thank fuck you’re not rebelling and wearing some of that other shit.” After a scornful and rushed once-over, he shrugged. “You’ll do.”
“Fuck you,” I muttered under my breath.
“You knew this would happen someday,” he said as I exited the room.
Maids and house staff were already almost done in here. They’d been clearing out my closets and packing up my things to move.
It’s so sudden.
Too quick.
Like he wanted to erase that I was ever here.
“I didn’t think I would be married off likethis,” I replied, grabbing my purse and phone from a side table in my suite. “I didn’t imagine you’d have to use me to get out of a mistake that was only your fault.”
“I’m not calling anything a mistake.” He shot me a dirty look. “Except you. Maybe it’s been my mistake not to force you onto some other asshole in marriage sooner.”
I shook my head. “Why did you mess up that trade deal?” I asked again.
“I didn’t mess up anything.”
Walking down the hall with him, I realized I was running out of time. “How am I supposed to report to you?” I asked. “Daily? Weekly?”
He furrowed his brow. “What?”
“To report with intel,” I clarified.Not that I can see why any secrets about our trade partner would help us.
“Oh.” He shrugged. “It’ll all get sorted out. You’ll see.”
I opened my mouth to ask for more specifics, but it was too late to say anything at all.
He preceded me into the largest lounge of the villa, and I stopped short at the tall man who watched me. Dark brown eyes locked on me as I stayed put. The lean lines of his rugged jaw showed despite the stubble of his facial hair. Unlike Arturo’s weak attempt to appear distinguished and older, this man looked like a god chiseled from stone. The granite expression only heightened his masculinity, giving me the hint that he was the sort of man who never had to beg.
