Page 36 of A Diamond for My Forbidden Bride

So, I couldn’t touch her. And I couldn’t use food, memories or even sex to make her change her mind.

Fundamentally, I couldn’t ignore her choice, because wasn’t that what Domingo had taken from me? Hadn’t that been my whole childhood?

Yet wasn’t that what you were doing all along? Making your own choices anyway just to spite him? To show him he couldn’t beat you, that he couldn’t win?

No, it had had never been about winning. It had been about protecting Constantine. That had always been the goal.

Yes, and you failed.

I pushed the thought away, not wanting to dwell on it. This wasn’t about Domingo and Constantine, anyway. This was about Olivia. And, no matter what she said, no matter what ultimatums she’d flung at me, I still wasn’t going to let her go back to Madrid to marry my psychopathic brother, and that was final.

After my shower, I stalked down the wide wooden hallway and into the room I used as an office. Like the rest of the villa, it had large windows and big sliding glass doors that led out onto the deck that surrounded the house.

The island and the villa I’d built was my favourite place to be. There was nothing shut-in about it, nothing hemmed in. Everywhere there were views of the ocean, and all you needed to do to get out was to slide back one of those big glass doors.

It was a hangover of being shut in that basement room for months. I still didn’t like being confined and, once I’d had money, I’d spent it on wide vistas and freedom.

The room had bookshelves lining the walls, full of books in a wide array of different subjects and genres, and anything else that took my interest. A large, smooth white stone. An intricate shell. A piece of driftwood in an interesting shape. A piece of coral, bleached white, that had washed up on the beach.

I liked that I could put whatever I wanted on the shelves. I liked that I could do whatever I wanted with the villa. After a childhood such as mine, where everything had been tightly controlled, being able to make such small choices was a luxury I still enjoyed, no matter how many years had gone by.

A large wooden desk with clean lines stood near one of the windows, a wafer-thin computer screen sitting on top of it. I went over to the desk and sat down, turning on my computer.

I wanted to check in with my lawyers, as well as catch up on the media to see what progress—if any—had been made with my brother. I hadn’t had any alerts overnight, which meant he hadn’t made any move, which I thought was odd.

Surely, he wouldn’t just let me walk away with Olivia? Especially when she seemed so keen to get back to him. Domingo wouldn’t have permitted it, that was for sure.

I leaned back in my chair, scrolling through the day’s news, most of my brain occupied with what my next move was going to be. I had to stop Olivia being so suspicious of me, get her to trust me somehow, and that meant changing my methods.

I couldn’t let her leave, but perhaps I could let her lead our interactions. That wouldn’t be manipulating her, not if she took the initiative. Perhaps she could tell me more about her company and her plans for it. I already knew a lot about it, but not all. And, if sex was out, fine. I didn’t need it that badly. Maybe it would give me the chance to learn more about Olivia the woman rather than Olivia the girl.

After all, she hadn’t seemed to dislike my company. I’d told her about Domingo, about what had happened all those years ago, and she’d told me how angry she’d been with me for not contacting her. Which I completely understood.

Your fault, though. You could have given in.

I sneered at the thought. Given in? To Domingo? And let him turn his sights on Constantine? Never.

Constantine had sat outside the basement door even though he’d been forbidden to go near it, breaking the rules for me so he could slip notes underneath it. Notes asking me why I wouldn’t just give in, because Papa wouldn’t let me out until I did. Papa would keep me there for ever.

There’d been no apology from him, though. No apology for condemning me to months in a windowless room with no sky, glimpse of the stars or a laughing girl to keep me company.

No apology, even though I’d been making myself the target of Domingo’s attentions for years forhim.

I hadn’t been angry about it. Because that had been the moment I’d understood that he wasn’t my twin any more. He wasn’t even my brother. He was Domingo’s son in every way, and that was why there’d been no apology. He didn’t care about me. He didn’t care about Olivia. And why would he? Psychopaths had no empathy.

Anger collected inside me along with a bitter grief that still hurt even after all these years. Fury at Domingo and what he’d done to Constantine, what he’d done to us both and the bond that used to exist between us. The bond he’d broken, leaving me with no choice but to take from Constantine his company and his power so he wouldn’t hurt anyone the way Domingo had.

Fury at myself for failing him.

I growled and reached out abruptly, sweeping the offending computer monitor off the desk and onto the floor. It cracked satisfyingly, but I was still furious. Domingo was dead; I couldn’t take my rage out on him, but I had to get rid of it somehow. Yet the only options here were exercise or sex. And, since sex was clearly off the table, exercise it would have to be.

The gym was down the other end of the villa and after I’d changed into my workout gear I got on the treadmill and put myself through a punishing run.

Olivia wouldn’t like me keeping her here, but letting her leave wasn’t an option. I had to protect her. I’d failed my brother, but I wouldn’t fail her.

She could deny me her body, but that was fine. I could outlast her. We’d soon see who was more resolute. I’d been beaten, starved and isolated. I’d been locked in a windowless room for six months because I’d refused to surrender. I’d died and built an empire from nothing at all on the strength of my will alone.

Domingo himself hadn’t been able to win against me and neither would she.

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