Page 98 of Santiago's Conquest (Four Dark Horsemen 1)

“Si.”

“You told her the truth before the wedding, so she could help you?” Rebecca clarifies, and I nod lamely, confused as fuck with their weird reaction.

Shouldn’t they be… I don’t know… outraged, because their son forced a woman into a marriage?

Or forget the marriage.

That their son threatens murder in order to get what he wants?

How could he disgrace this family like that?

Rebecca slaps Lucian’s arm. “He’s your son indeed.”

“Lo sé,” he agrees with satisfaction lacing his tone and points at Santiago with his fork. “Although my son is smarter than me.”

“You don’t have to sound so smug about it.”

“How can I not? The girl agreed to be his on the first try. I asked five times.” He tells Santiago, “I’m so proud, son.”

My hands fist the napkin while anger boils my blood, and I want to shout at Lucian that he’s insane, but I bite my tongue, because going against the patriarch of the family won’t win me any favors.

So much for thinking he might disown or punish his son. Instead, he praises his actions, and I’m surprised he doesn’t hug him or promise him a gift at this point.

“Asked?” Rebecca exclaims outrageously, flipping her hair back and narrowing her eyes on her husband. “More like blackmailed. You even promised to destroy my galleries so no artist would come to me if I didn’t agree.”

“Semantics, mi amor.” He leans forward, their noses almost touching as their faces are inches apart. “Besides, you knew I would never do it. You love your art so much.”

“I couldn’t be sure!”

My head continues to move like a ping pong ball, shifting my attention from one to the other as they talk rapidly; yet their kids stay oblivious to it, eating their food, because apparently hearing how your father blackmailed your mother into marriage is a normal fucking occurrence in this household!

“Shouldn’t you be concerned he blackmailed me into a marriage I didn’t want?” The words slip past my lips before I can stop them, and everyone’s attention turns to me. They stop eating all together while I lick my dry lips, finding inner strength to continue speaking. “Asking me if I need help to escape it?”

Rebecca blinks in shock, understanding clear on her face, but before she can say anything, Lucian’s low yet firm voice booms between us. “Howard is a piece of shit coward who always has been a coward, and he’ll probably die a coward too.” What in the hell? Did Howard somehow cross Lucian too, because the darkness flashing in his eyes scares me a little, and unconsciously I shift toward Santiago. “Whatever he got, he deserved it. You look absolutely fine to me, and you don’t tremble in my son’s presence. Plus, I do know my son. You belong to Santiago now, because you agreed to it willingly.” He doesn’t even give me the chance to protest. Doesn’t he see how all this is wrong? Giving a person a choice under dire circumstances is hardly a choice! “You’re a Cortez now, so you have our loyalty, and your loyalty should always belong to us.” Steel laces his last sentence, his gaze so intense that I jump a little when Santiago wraps his arm around my shoulders, reassuring me silently.

“Careful how you speak to my wife, Dad.”

“Just making sure she understands the rules,” he points out.

He’s ready to take another sip, but his glass pauses midway, when Santiago asks, “Or what?”

“Or there are always consequences.”

Santiago tenses, his tone staying even, but I don’t miss the anger dancing on the edges of it. “Is that a threat?”

“It’s a fact.”

“She won’t be my wife otherwise, right? We always have to pay consequences for bearing the Cortez name.”

Lucian slams his glass on the table, the china rattling loudly under the blow, and panic sweeps Rebecca’s features, before she tells me, “Let’s move on from this as well. The kids will figure it out. Are you still interested in the job?”

What? The job…? Oh, she means the sculpting gig? “Mateo sent high recommendations about you, and I think the kids would love to learn about myths in such a fun way.”

“When will it end, Santiago? When will my every word stop being a red cloth to the bull that’s your rage?”

Jimena winces at her father’s harsh tone, scrapping her fork loudly on the plate, as if it has the power to stop the brewing fight about to erupt all over us.

“Yes, I’m still interested.” I jump at the opportunity, hoping that my conversation with Rebecca diverts their attention from the argument. “Although I’m not sure how to teach them through sculpting.”

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