Page 24 of Hostile King

Staying a purposeful stride behind, I follow the quaint trail through a wild garden bursting with chaotic rainbows of color and exotic species of flora. Where the plantation grounds were kept neat and tidy, this landscape has unfettered freedom to grow without rules or rigid expectations.

As much as I want to hate this new residence I’ve landed in, I’m finding it difficult to pick out a flaw. The exquisite two-story dwelling reminds me of a quaint European cottage only on a grander scale.

André stops on the wrap around paving by a set of twin doors and peers over his shoulder to find me. “You should know something, Carina.”

My heart suspends in my chest, his tone laden with seriousness. “I’m listening.”

“Tomás told me to protect you with my life. So, believe me when I tell you that you’re safe in Mag Mell…but I have no clue why we were summoned here.”

7

TOMÁS

It’s noon.

The day after I pressed the evacuation button and released Carina into my brother's custody, I’d boarded a chopper over an hour ago. Now, I’m sitting with Shane in a blacked-out Escalade.

He quietly supports the business decision I’ve made. Even when he believes the marriage would be a catastrophe. He knows it and so do I.

What the hell have I done?

Normally, it wouldn’t faze me, but Carina had thawed my heart, ripped the beating organ out with her small hands, and stolen it away. The queen-sized hole behind my ribs aches like a bitch and constant knots contract in my gut. I’d swear I was dying if I didn't have a clean bill of health.

Sunshine bursts through leafy trees, dappling the road outside my comfort zone. This city is warmer than we’re used to in Bogotá, so I pop out my cufflinks and roll my sleeves to my elbows.

“Why couldn’t they send the prenup documents by courier? This is a waste of my goddamn time,” I growl as the barrier rises, permitting access to the law firm we use in Medellin.

Shane sits forward when the vehicle circles the small parking lot and reverses into a spot, so the hood points towards the exit. Who knows when we’d need a quick getaway.

“This is your opportunity to meet Bianca in person.” He cocks a brow at me. “A dinner date would be slicker than flirting over the signing of a legally binding contract, but you’re the one who refused to meet her any earlier.”

“Flirting?” I grunt, well aware I’ve put this moment off until the last minute. “It’s not a speed date. And we definitely won’t fuck over the desk.”

He shrugs. “You might change your mind when you meet her.”

“I won’t,” I snap, having very little patience for small talk.

When the driver turns off the engine, I stay seated and stare at my phone. Waiting for it to ring, but it doesn’t.

I’m still trying to convince myself that I’m doing the right thing when Shane speaks. “There’s Bianca. She’s brought her brother with her.”

Mikel Morales, a cartel playboy with a ballsy attitude and an inbred passion for the New York party scene. I knew he had a sister who attended a private boarding school, which meant she was never around.

Now, a few years after graduating, she’s strolling towards the glass doors of our law firm wearing kitten heels, a figure-hugging dress, and a Souza promise of fortune and marriage.

And still, I feel nothing. No heart-stopping buzz, no adrenaline rush, and no thirst to fuck her, or any other woman in the vicinity. My deviant lust runs deeper than that, it burrows under my skin with miniscule hooks and rages through my veins with a toxic perversion—for one woman.

I stare at the back of her head until the entrance door shuts behind them, feeling nothing but resentment for the unwise decision I’d made to piss off my father. Anarchy detonates a surge of adrenaline. I shove the useless phone into my blazer pocket and run a hand over the coarse hair around my mouth, doing my best to stay levelheaded.

My usual cavalier diplomacy has gone to shit these past few days. I constantly feel wound up, my nerves jittering, and my stomach twisted.

“Let’s get this shit over with and get the hell back to the helipad,” I mutter. “If this all goes to plan, we’ll be airborne within the hour. I don’t want to see her again until she’s walking up the aisle.”

Shane balks, his fingernails running the length of his jawline. I cock a brow at him when he sighs, low and slow.

“Tommy, you know these guys are big on tradition. This is only the start of it. They’ve planned a wedding rehearsal dinner. The groom has to attend.” He almost laughs when my jaw drops. “You read your emails, don’t you,cabrón?”

“Arehearsal?” I clench my fists. “Are you fucking serious? What the hell are we rehearsing? Isn’t once more than enough?” This must be a sick joke.

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