Page 24 of Santiago's Conquest (Four Dark Horsemen 1)

Even though the last time they landed on me was ten years ago, I still remember what their dangerous flashing means.

One wrong move and the basement awaits me at the end of the night with a few beatings in between.

My father stands several feet behind Santiago, and his posture stays nonchalant as he winks to one of his old friends who passes, but he still sends me the warning glance.

Don’t you dare agree.

He might as well have said those words out loud.

My grandmother joins him, subtly shaking her head at me, and motions with her chin toward my sisters, indicating to me I should do as expected and give them the chance to charm a Cortez heir.

Shifting my attention back to Santiago, who gives me an odd look, I fist my hand and finally reply through my dry throat, “Thank you. I don’t know how to dance.” The lie slips past my lips easily, and this way I don’t insult him for his generous offer. Although the idea of anyone from the dark four doing anything out of their generosity is laughable. Their selfishness dictates their very action. “My sisters are great dancers though.” I dart toward the terrace, wanting to escape this place before he listens to me and the air itself suffocates me with my family’s hatred toward me.

Soon. Soon, I’ll be free.

I don’t even make it two steps before he grabs me, pulling me to the middle of the dance floor. He presses me to him to my loud gasp. One of his hands lands on my hip, his fingers digging into my skin while the other wraps around my hand, squeezing it in his palm. “No is not an answer I accept, querida. I’ll teach you anything you don’t know.” The husky promise flares my insides, and he starts to dance, murmuring into my ear, “We’re dancing a waltz. I move forward and you step back. Over and over again. Relax your back,” he orders and sways on the dance floor, moving flawlessly on it while dragging me with him.

Our movements adjust to the music, his hands holding me in his arms as he floats us around before pushing me to the side, where I barely have time to catch the tips of his fingers before he tugs me back to him, twirling us around.

His scent fills my lungs, his hard body serving as a protective shield from everyone else while my eyes stay trained on his to create an illusion of our isolation from the outside world.

In this moment, only he exists for me, and when he presses me once again to his chest, leisurely moving us on the floor, I gulp for breath, my nails burrowing into his shoulder, holding on to him in those assaults of emotion he inspires in me.

Leaning toward my ear, I feel his hot breath on my skin before he whispers, “Mentirosa.”

Liar.

I forgot all about the lie of my dancing skills, and my cheeks burn from embarrassment, yet his hold on me doesn’t loosen. Instead, he grips me even harder, almost leaving no space between our bodies, which is scandalous in the current circumstances.

The waltz isn’t a dance of passion, but of gentle interest inspiring people to get to know each other better and giving an opportunity to talk.

Or at least that’s what the dance teacher Grandmother hired for us preached. She insisted every girl of the ton should know how to handle the waltz, because it’s our ticket to a good marriage.

The music still flows around us, the musicians striking high chords with their instruments leading to the epic conclusion, and I swallow, before murmuring, “I’m sorry.” I’m not sure what the agenda was for him inviting me to dance, but he still didn’t deserve my lie or rejection.

Surprise flickers in his blue pools, quickly replaced with such fierce anger it chills my blood, his eyes becoming even more blue. He twirls me to the side again, not letting me examine his expression further, and I sway so hard I almost lose my balance, but he catches me in time, once again lifting me in his arms, spinning us around and placing me back on the floor just in time with the violin’s last chord.

He steps back, my body missing his warmth instantly, and puts his lips to my raised hand. The feel of his soft mouth sends tremors through me, the skin he kissed burning, and he smiles, although it doesn’t reach his orbs.

No, they stay ice-cold, making it seem like I’m an opponent he plans to destroy in the most vicious of ways.

“Gracias, Briseis.” He lets go of me, and only then do I notice how everyone in the room gapes at us in shock and disbelief, the women sending daggers my way while the men blink in confusion, not quite understanding why Santiago even bothered to dance with me.

The rest of the dark four are standing in a circle sipping whiskey while watching us with boredom, not paying attention to the three women gushing over them.

My family’s faces almost boil with anger, although they cover it up with smiles, because God forbid they show their displeasure to a Cortez.

Mortification travels through me at the prospect of facing their wrath when I was so close to finally gaining my freedom, and I almost jump in place when Santiago’s voice snaps my attention back to him. “No me mientas de nuevo.” With this last order of not lying to him again, he walks off toward the exit, people separating to give him room while the other dark four follow him, the heavy thumping of their leather shoes the only sounds rocking off the walls until the double doors shut behind them.

They are gone, and as always, they leave nothing but chaos in their wake.

“Dinner is ready,” Clare announces cheerfully, pointing with her glove-covered hand toward the dining room. “Please, everyone, take a seat.” The guests comply with her request, clearly losing interest in me. Dad grabs my elbow, his fingers practically crushing my bone under his grip, and I whimper in pain, bringing a few glances our way, so I muster up a smile.

“Quiet,” he grits through his teeth and drags me to the hallway leading to his office, where he throws me inside.

I stumble a little, catching the back of the chair in time before I fall, and the door shuts so loudly the walls rattle. “Dad,” I say when he approaches me, “I’m so happy to—” The harsh slap to my cheek sends me flying to the floor, my skin burning from the blow and my eyes watering. Instant pain travels all over my scalp, my temples throbbing, and for a second, I don’t even hear anything besides the razor-sharp ringing in my ear.

“One day. One fucking day. That’s all it takes for you to remind me why I despise your mere existence.” My eyes scrunch at his harsh words, my heart squeezing tight, and my lungs burning from lack of oxygen. “Santiago Cortez wasn’t invited tonight for you.” Rubbing my cheek and wincing a little when the smallest of touches brings me pain, I slowly get up to his continued scorn. “Learn your place, Briseis. You’re nothing in this household and never will be. One more mistake like this, and I—”

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