Page 6 of Shameless in Vegas

He continues to suck on my neck, and I push my breasts against him, giggling wildly and like an empty-headed idiot.

After all, the second step in having a man at your mercy is making them think they’re smarter than you. If they believe you’re stupid, they’ll never have any clue that you’re orchestrating their malignant fate and leading them to their ultimate end.

THE REYES FAMILY APPEARS to be wealthy in every imaginable way, including in their unrealistically attractive genes, evident from not only sexy-as-fuck Joaquin, but also his stunning sisters. In preparation for this assignment, I was fed all manner of information about this family, including being provided with photos in order to identify them. Those photos didn’t do any of them a lick of justice.

Isla and Liliana are both blessed with flawless, naturally tan skin, full lips, and thick, ebony hair. Isla, the eldest of the Reyes children, is twenty-nine and has a more slender, more mature face, which highlights her high cheekbones and elegant, sloping nose. Liliana, or Lili as she goes by with her family, is twenty-six with a more rounded face and a button nose that gives her a more youthful appearance, albeit one that’s completely sex-pot. Lili has the look of a modern-day pin-up girl, while Isla gives off more of a Latina Grace Kelly vibe—which is fitting since she’s literal royalty.

Isla’s husband, seated next to her with an affectionate hand slipped under her hair to rest on the base of her neck, is Malachi Sterling, the Duke of Corwick, a small island nation nestled between England and Ireland. Malachi was the wrench in the cartel’s original plan to go after Ernesto Reyes’ fortune. Which is whyIam now involved. Thatandto rain down the retribution owed to Joaquin forhisinvolvement in fucking up that plan.

While the waitress takes each of our brunch orders, Malachi fixes a considerate gaze on Isla with steely, silver eyes that make his surname seem all the more fitting, while Isla’s rich, espresso eyes dance impatiently across the white linen table cloth, fine china, and sterling silverware. It’s clear that she’s chomping at the bit to address the elephant in the room known as Joaquin’s and my spur-of-the-moment marriage last night, which is when I first encountered the three of them.

The waitress steps away from the table, and Isla opens her mouth, drawing in a silent breath in preparation to speak, but Lili beats her to the punch.

“Well,I’mgoing to the pool after this. I don’t care what the rest of you do.” Lili picks up a mimosa in a crystal champagne flute and takes a long, quiet sip from it. After swallowing, she lifts her thick, black brows and gestures with the glass at the four of us. “Now that all of you have checked off Vegas elopements from your bucket lists, I’m ready to start checking offmine. The pool here is supposed to be legendary.”

“Well, the weather in Nevada certainly is accommodating to that idea,” Malachi replies conversationally in his smooth, aristocratic accent, hand still stroking the nape of Isla’s neck while he picks up his water glass. “I wasn’t entirely prepared for the climate of—”

“You only want to go to the pool because Colin and Elle are going to the pool, and you like to torture yourself by watching them like a dejected puppy,” Isla interjects, eyes flicking from the tablecloth to Joaquin’s face.

Lili draws her glass to her chest, sucking in a gasp and gaping as through Isla just slapped her. “That isnot—”

“Yes, it is,” Isla snaps, undeterred and still staring at Joaquin. “There is aproblem, and I think it’s best to spend the day dealing with it rather than putting it off until we’re back in New York.”

I keep my gaze downturned as I wait for either Lili or Joaquin to respond to her blatant reference to his marriage tome, a total stranger. Their response determinesmyresponse because Isla is, in a way, the gatekeeper to my returning to New York with them. If any of them has any kind of suspicion of my true identity, it would be Isla. Malachi is potentially the second most likely to sniff out the truth because he hired a private investigator to follow the cartel when they had previously targeted Isla. But given the way that turned out, it’s within the realm of possibilities that he considers the matter closed. The main concern with Isla, however, is not necessarily her suspicion of me being linked to the cartel, rather the repercussions inevitably waiting for her younger brother in the form of Ernesto Reyes’ wrath. After all, she’s the only one of the Reyes’ four adult children with a semblance of maturity.

And again, I only know all of this because I’ve been fed every imaginable bit of information on this entire family over the course of the past eight months.

“Whatever,” Lili pipes up again, fluttering her eyelashes, “feel free to spend the day dealing with hisproblem.” She sticks her neck out defiantly toward her older sister. “It’shisproblem. Not mine. I don’t know why you need to make ityourproblem anyway.”

“It’s my problem because Papá is going tokill himfor this,” Isla snaps, jutting her neck forward also and causing Malachi to move his hand to rest on her lap.

“Again.” Lili tilts her head to one side, her long mass of thick curls falling over her shoulder and all the way down to the curve of her hip. “I don’t know why you think this is your problem to deal with. He’s the one who—”

“Holyfuck, you guys,” Joaquin finally chimes in, lifting his hands off the table to rub over his eyes, and I offer him a discreet, supportive, totallywifeystyle rub on his thigh. “Will you lay off? I’m going to handle this, so quit harping on it right in front of our faces.” He drops one hand to his lap and drapes the other around my shoulder. “If nothing else, you’re being really friggin’ rude to Natalia.”

Aw. Isn’t he sweet? Set up like a chump and with absolutely no knowledge of what happened last night other than the admittedly horrifying aftermath of it, and he’s still committed to being completely polite and considerate.

See? This is why my job is going to be difficult for the first time ever.

Murdering someone in their sleep is a hell of a lot easier when they’re an asshole, and Joaquin only continues to prove himself as the polar opposite of that.

I slide my gaze sideways to meet his and offer a demure, humble, closed-lip smile.

“I am not trying to be rude,” Isla goes on. She leans forward, stretching one slender arm across the table, gently patting it in front of me as though trying to comfort me. “I am trying to spare her the shit storm that will most definitely be Papá’s reaction to this.” She meets my gaze below a knitted brow. “Our father is not exactly akindman. He is defensive and rigid, and he will be immediately suspicious of this marriage. Especially if it shows up in the society pages before he finds out from Joaquin.”

“Well.” Joaquin hitches his shoulders defensively, adjusting his collar with his free hand and still holding me with the other. “He’s not gonna find out from the friggin’ society pages. We’re going to figure this out, and then there’s not going to be anything for him to be pissed about.”

Thatmakes it clear that he has no intention of staying in this marriage. And just in case there’s any question about his lack of intention in anyone’s mind, Isla comes right out and asks.

“Does that mean you two are planning to… uh…” She twirls her slender index finger in a circle, gesturing at Joaquin and me. “Undothis?”

“Yes,” Joaquin hisses without missing a beat. “We can’t just—”

His words screech to a halt as his coffee-colored eyes start bouncing from each person’s face at the table until they finally land on mine. I return his gaze with my well-practiced expression that resembles a kicked puppy, drawing my brows together and letting my bottom lip fall into a subtle frown while flicking my gaze to my hands. I keep my chin low, feigning mortification and shame, all the while absorbing the reactions of his sisters.

First, there’s only silence for a number of seconds before Joaquin appends, “Right? I mean… we can’t just…”

Lilitsks, but says nothing. There’s a light tapping that I perceive as Malachi rhythmically drumming his short, tidy nails on the table cloth. And finally, along, drawn-out, exasperated sigh from Isla.

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