Page 49 of For Cowgirls and Kings
He pauses, his dark hair nearly brushing my chest as he stands, looking down at me thoughtfully. Even in the darkness, I see his sculpted features pull together in contemplation. But then he shakes his head, stepping around to my hands.
“I don’t know,” he whispers, the words more forced than I expect, and I remain perfectly still as he works to loosen my wrists just enough to ease the ache in my arms.
Without another word Rafael moves around me, pulling a bottle of water from his pocket. He extends the open end to my lips, and I open my mouth, letting the cool liquid race through me. I drink it in desperately, the simple gesture filling me with a small spark of hope.
Maybe Rafael will help me. Not today, but down the line. Of all the brothers, he seems the least interested in actually making me suffer. And even though I don’t know why, I’ll take it.
Rafael might just be my way out.
“Thank you,” I whisper, licking my lips as he lifts the bottle away.
He turns, shoving the bottle into his pocket. “Don’t mention it.” And then he leaves, that small spark of hope flickering just enough to keep me warm in the bitter cold.
EIGHTEEN
MATEO
February 14th, 2025
Valentina sitsacross from me picking at her nails, refusing to make eye contact even though she’s the one who called me in here. The cherry wood desk sits between us like a beacon of wealth, her red bottomed heels bobbing every few seconds as she ticks her ankle. The gaudy wealth is fucking sickening honestly.
The most important part of this job is keeping up appearances—my image as “The Boss”.
That’s the way it’s always been with the Reyes family—the men run the business, and the women run the family. But my father, being the only child of his father, who was the only child of his father, did not count on having a daughter first. And although he loved her, the only way a man with a callus heart and a passion only for business could, Valentina grew up knowing she wasn’t enough. Even as a young boy I noticed the way he treated us differently. I always tried to play the secondary role, always offered her the prime seat, and even as she wanted it—and more—my father would never allow her to have it.
A fact she grew up hating me for. I was always the obstaclebetween her and her rightful place as the first born child and heir to our family empire. One I didn’t even want, and she wanted more than anything.
To make matters worse, my parents were more absent than they were present, and V stepped up often to help take care of me. For many years I struggled with her hate for me, let it cut me so deeply that I’d do anything for a crumb of kindness from her. But as I grew up, I came to realize it wasn’t always hate for me, but hate for what I had. A father who valued me, and a future so full of everything she wanted.
I couldn’t hate her. Not now, or ever. But I had to become numb to her—you can’t pity a snake that strikes first, even if you are standing in its nest. Because to pity it is to be weak—vulnerable. And as the boss, the end all, be all for hundreds of employees, there’s no room to be weak. Laws, rules, and punishments begin and end with my say.
Except with matters related to my sister. In the tight black two piece set, diamonds glittering like a collar around her neck, compared to my pressed jeans and black button down, she looks like the boss. But I’m on the power side of the desk.
And I’m themalemember of this family. Even if she’s the older one.
Her knee continues to bounce, and I watch her teeth nip at her cherry-colored bottom lip for not the first time since we sat down. She’s nervous.
Which is both interesting and highly concerning. V doesn’t get nervous about anything. She gets even—or ahead.
I lean forward, brow raised, and steeple my fingers in front of my mouth. Her eyes narrow and I can tell she knows I’m onto her. The thing about V is she’s like a cat in a cage—always angry, always lashing out, and always cutting you faster than you can figure out what’s happening.
“Care to share whathas you all riled up?”
She snarls at me, and settles father into the plush chair, her thin frame nearly swallowed by the rich leather. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I wait a beat, and then she starts chewing on her lip again, eyes looking anywhere but at me. Like she’s waiting, but for what?
This isn’t good.“V, cut the shit. What’s going on? You called me here.” As I ask the question, my heart instantly kicks up. Something about this, something about how quiet today has been, all of a sudden feels like a trap. Like I’m missing something important.
She sighs, the action deflating her chest. But she still doesn’t look at me.
I stand, the hairs on my neck coming to attention now too. Every alarm bell is ringing, and irrational panic blares in my ears. I take a single step toward her and she sits up straighter, snarling at me, her perfect white teeth flashing.
“The Martinez brothers—” Before she can finish whatever lie she’s about to spin, McCrae bursts into the office. I note Valentina’s skin pale at the sight of him, and her eyes widen for a split second before she averts them once more.
“Sir.”
“McCrae, what the fuck is it?” Normally I wouldn’t stand for him bursting in like that—it’s the principle of respect I like to uphold. But something about this entire situation has me already grabbing my phone and keys and walking toward the door.
