Page 55 of Santiago's Conquest (Four Dark Horsemen 1)

Her blue eyes remind me of the clear blue sky on a summer day and stand out like two diamonds against her tan skin. The silky lace dress wraps around her body, showing the generous curves of her breasts and butt. The dress finishes slightly above her knees, revealing her long legs, and as she steps closer, her scent, roses mixed with orchids and lavender, envelops me.

She doesn’t have to introduce herself.

Jimena Cortez.

Santiago’s sister and an heiress to the throne whose hellion ways drive her entire family crazy.

Last I heard, she got her pilot’s license and announced her desire to fly across the ocean all by herself.

Her blue orbs scan me from head to toe, and a soft smile widens her plump limps. “You’re beautiful.” She raises her hand with a square, black velvet box. “Santiago owes me huge for sneaking this out of Dad’s office. I almost got busted.” My brows furrow in confusion, and she comes closer, gently flicking my locks over one shoulder. “But I got it.” She opens her palm, expecting my hand I assume, so I give it to her, too stunned to utter a single word, and she finally opens the box.

I blink at the gorgeous ring inside it.

Surrounded by smaller diamonds, the pure, clear sapphire ring in a princess cut glistens in the light, reflecting our faces in it, and the platinum band only adds to the luxury of the jewel. “Florian’s dad designed it for mine years ago when he proposed to Mom. It’s a symbol of their love.” She slips it on my finger, rubbing the stone and explaining further the importance this family jewel holds. “On their thirtieth anniversary, Dad gifted her another one, and they decided to keep this one for Santiago. I secretly think they both tried to hint to him they wanted grandbabies.” Her voice hitches on the last word, something flashing on her face, but she covers it up with a smile once again.

Mortification runs through me at this information, and I quickly start taking it off, hating Santiago even more for trying to deceive his relatives like this. “No, no.” Jimena frowns, shaking her head as if asking me a silent question, so I answer, “Our marriage is not….” I shut my mouth, afraid to speak freely in the company of their employees.

Who knows what Santiago might do to them if he thinks they’re a threat to his plans?

Jimena must guess my train of thought, because she dismisses the women gently. “Leave us alone please.”

“Of course,” Aly replies, dragging Erica outside who, by the looks of it, would have enjoyed staying and listening to our conversation. “The car is waiting downstairs whenever you’re ready.” A few more steps and the door locks behind them.

Jimena pats my hand, indicating to me she wants the ring to stay on, throws the box on the nearby couch, and goes to pick up the veil.

Waving it a little, she straightens the tule and starts attaching it to my head, so I take a deep breath, deciding to spill all the beans and hope his sister will understand me.

Everything I’ve heard about her through the years has been nothing but good.

“Our marriage is not based on love. He blackmailed me into it.” Jimena stays silent, clipping the veil firmly, and comes back to stand in front of me, placing the tule over my shoulder and making sure my hair doesn’t get in the way. “He’ll kill my father otherwise.” I spare her the gory details of what happened to my family; she’ll probably find out from the news soon enough. “So this ring shouldn’t be on my finger. He wants you to believe it’s a real marriage. I can’t lie. Please help me escape.” I exhale heavily and expect her to either burst into tears or gasp in horror before jumping to defend me from her brother.

Or maybe call their powerful father who can put a leash on his mad son?

Jimena though chuckles, and then it transforms into full-on laughter. She bends in two, holding her stomach, her entire body shaking like she’s never heard anything more hilarious. She gulps for breath but then bursts out laughing again, the melodic sound of it zipping annoyance and despair all over me.

“You don’t believe me,” I whisper, feeling incredibly stupid at my confession, and she finally straightens up, wiping away the tears sliding down her cheeks.

“Oh, I do. Just the mere idea of Santiago doing something he doesn’t want is hilarious.” What? “So trust me, this ring is yours.” She checks her platinum diamond watch. “And we better get going before he barges in here himself and nags.”

Is she out of her mind, or is madness bordering on insanity a family trait I wasn’t aware of? “He’ll kill my father,” I repeat, thinking that maybe she didn’t hear it right the first time around. “And he and his friends wiped out my entire family tonight! Everyone is dead!” I shout the last part, at this point not caring who hears me.

Or examine how my feelings are mostly indifferent to them right now. I’m sad someone died and all, but deeper emotions?

Yep, absent, which only intensifies my anger at Santiago, because he makes me face the harsh truth of my coldness toward my relatives.

At this, Jimena’s perfectly trimmed eyebrows furrow, concern flashing on her features as her body tenses. “He actually said that?”

What in the hell is wrong with her? “No, of course he denied it!” She relaxes, exhaling in relief, not that it helps me one bit. “Don’t you see my point? I’m his prisoner.”

“My brother has his reasons for whatever he does.” My jaw drops in shock, and she grabs my veil, throwing it over my face so I’m looking at her through the tule, disbelief rushing through my system, because what kind of fucked-up logic is this? “The most important thing to my brother is his freedom.” Sadness laces the edges of her tone, her eyes filling with pain, and despite knowing better, my heart reacts to it, longing to know what could have possibly happened to Santiago to value his freedom so much.

Even though it’s completely idiotic, all things considered.

“When people want revenge, they do what they have to in order to win.” Or at least I assume it’s revenge. Either way, it rings of personal vendetta.

Jimena hugs me tight. I still, not expecting the warmth radiating from her, and she squeezes me in her arms before whispering, “My brother marries you tonight because he wants to. Not because he has to.” She leans back. “Santiago also never lies. You can trust his word.” She steps back and motions with her head toward the door. “Now, we really have to go.”

I should shout at her stupidity and ask where her solidarity is as a woman, how she can brush all my accusations aside as if they mean nothing and then expect me to happily go marry her brother.

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