I WAKE WITH a start, a gnawing hunger pain clutching at my belly from the inside out. Bright sunshine pours in from a window, and I squint against it as I sit up.
“Good morning, little one,” a woman says.
I find an older Hispanic woman smiling at me. Kindness shines in her eyes. Am I in a hospital? My brows scrunch up in confusion.
“You’re safe now,” she assures me as she reaches for my hand.
I look down to see that I’m attached to an IV. She sets to removing the needle and then bandages me up.
“W-Where am I?” I croak out. Pain assaults me from every direction, but I power through it to find out where I am.
“You’re under Diego Gomez’s protection now.” The way she says his name is one of fondness. I can’t help but shudder, though. I’m in the beast’s lair. When my eyes focus on the room around me, I recognize it as the very one I used to stay in whenever we’d come to visit the Rojas family all those years ago.
“I, uh, I…” Panic shoots through me. I’m here. I’m supposed to kill this scary dude and then I can escape.
Back to Esteban?
I choke back bile. He fucking head butted me. And worse yet, he and his brother sent me here as a pawn. They drugged and raped me. Disgust is quickly squashed by anger. How dare they use me!
“Are you hungry, sweetheart?”
And just like that, my anger is snuffed out.
“I’m starving,” I whisper.
“Let’s get you dressed and then we’ll go down to breakfast. Ingrid is making homemade waffles this morning,” she tells me with a gentle smile.
I’m confused. I’d expected monsters and mayhem. Not motherly smiles and hospitality.
After a slew of embarrassing moments during which I needed this stranger to help me pee and then dress, I eventually make my way down the familiar hallways on shaky legs.
“I’m Tatiana,” she tells me as we shuffle along the corridor.
“Vee.”
We settle at a table—the same table I used to eat at every summer with three Colombian boys. Now, I sit with Tatiana. She watches me carefully as the old lady who has to be pushing eighty waddles in, plopping plates down in front of us. I feel like an animal as I dive into the food. I’ve eaten nothing but sandwiches and soup for months. One bite of the waffles, and I feel like perhaps I died in that car last night. This has to be heaven.
I stuff myself to the point of pain at breakfast. And yet, I still have the desire to push more food into the pockets of the lounge pants I’m wearing. Just in case.
“You’re welcome to come eat whenever you’re hungry,” Tatiana tells me with a smile. “I’ll also make sure we put some snacks in your room.”
My shoulders relax. I keep waiting for something horrible to happen. When we finish, she guides me back to my room. I stand awkwardly as I wait to be told what to do next.
“Books are over there. Television. Bathroom is in there if you’d like to bathe. I’ll go into town later and pick you up more clothes. Would you like a swimsuit? It’s hot out there, so maybe you’d like to swim. Swimming is a great strength builder.” She babbles her words as though she’s nervous.
I jerk my head over to her. “Thank you. Umm…sure. A swimsuit would be nice.” I force a smile but can’t help thinking about all the times Oscar and I would swim together. Back when we were friends. Back when he wasn’t a vengeful prick. I mean, the rape and beatings make sense for their plan. Send me here as a victim. What they didn’t realize, though, is that they created another enemy in the process.
Nobody fucks with the queen.
I’ll get rid of this Diego asshole and then figure out a way to make the Rojas brothers pay for what they did to me.
“Don’t be afraid of him,” she mutters from behind me.
I freeze at her words. “I’m not afraid of him. I’m not afraid of anyone.” My gaze drifts to hers, and I pin her with a glare. “I’m not.”
She blinks at me in shock. “Good. That’s good.”
Tatiana slips out of my room. I walk over to the bookshelf. It takes everything in me to pull down the book I know holds pictures inside. All of the décor is the same as it was when I was here all those summers. Pulling The Count of Monte Cristo from the shelf, I settle into a chair by the window and open it. In the middle are a stack of Polaroids. Each picture is either of me or Oscar. We’re making silly faces in each pose. In the last pic, we smartened up and stood in front of a mirror to get us both in the picture. In the photo, I’m fourteen and looking up at his lanky self. Love shines from my eyes and smile. He smirks at the mirror with one of his looks that got him more girlfriends than he knew what to do with. The only girlfriend it didn’t get him was me. And it wasn’t for lack of trying. That summer, I tried everything to get him to fall for me. I even swam nude in the pool for him. Nothing ever worked.
I grit my teeth and tear each photo of him in half. The pieces of the pictures flutter to my lap. With a sound of disgust, I swipe them all onto the floor along with the book. Then, I limp over to the bathroom. It’s stocked with girly stuff. Hairbrushes, perfume, makeup. I can’t help but become giddy over seeing such silly items. But these are simple items I’ve been denied for months.
A burst of fury explodes inside of me. Part of me wants to rage and push all of the pretty things to the floor with a clatter.
But then I remember my plan.
My plan is to destroy them all.
I stare in the mirror and hardly recognize myself. My hair has been blown into soft red waves, and I’m wearing clothes. The dress is loose, but I love how the green is almost the exact shade of my eyes. I look like Poison Ivy from the Batman movies. Except I’m not trying to kill any good guys. I prefer the bad ones.
There is a basket full of unopened makeup, but most of it was meant for darker skin tones. I open a tube of mascara and brush some on my lashes and then opt for some lip gloss. Other than that, my bruises and cuts are on full display. I can even see the small dusting of freckles on my cheeks. At one time, I did everything in my power to hide them.
Now, I don’t care.
The woman staring back at me is poisonous and vicious. She’s not a victim or a delicate flower. This woman has thorns and deadly venom. This woman has a plan to hurt them all.
I smack my lips together before spritzing on some perfume and exiting the bathroom. I’m stopped dead in my tracks by the sight of a man wearing a suit on the other side of my bed, his back turned to me. He’s staring at one of the halves of the pictures I’d torn up and holds the book in his other hand. In my moment of fury, I’d torn them all up and hadn’t bothered to clean up the mess. Of course now, this implicates me as being somehow tied to the Rojas family.
“Jorge warned me this was a trick,” the deep voice rumbles.
I’m stunned frozen. The man is much bigger than me. Broad shouldered with messily styled black hair on top of his head. He exudes strength and power.
“Diego Gomez?”
He turns to the side, and I get a brief look at his profile before he turns to shove the book into the empty spot it came from. I’d expected an old man like Camilo. Not someone closer to Esteban’s age.
“I am,” he states in a cold tone. “What’s your name, ángel?”
He turns around fully to face me. The bed is between us and it seems like such a small obstacle between a cartel king and his captive. But I’m nobody’s victim. Not anymore. Bravely, I tilt my chin and let my gaze bore into the lightest brown eyes I have ever seen. His eyes, not him, are the ones holding me captive as I momentarily get lost in them.
“Name,” he grits out through clenched teeth.
I tear my gaze from its locked position on his eyes and study his face. Tiny silvery white scars crisscross all over his flesh. His cheeks are dusted with dark hair, thicker around his mouth and chin in a half-grown goatee. It’s as if at one time, he kept it neat, but then one day simply forgot to care anymore, giving him the appearance of a wild man barely contained in a neat suit. My eyes land on his lips. Pink and full. So soft for a villain.
“Vienna Berkley,” I tell him boldly and meet his light brown-eyed stare. “Vee.”
His gaze softens as a half-smile tugs at his lips. The bad guys aren’t supposed to be so damn handsome. They’re supposed to be scarred and ugly. Yet here this one is—scarred up something terrible—yet he is anything but ugly. “I’ve been looking for you, ángel.”
I tilt my chin up and bite out my words. “Here I am. And I am not an angel.”
This earns me a wide smile which reveals every pearly white tooth in his mouth. The smile makes his light brown eyes twinkle with delight. “I can see I’m going to have fun with you, mi diablita. So much fun.”
“Touch me and you die,” I bite out, my voice slightly wobbling.
He chuckles. “You Americans are so feisty. It makes Daddy Diego so fucking hard.”
I snort and lift an eyebrow at him. “We Americans also make fun of assholes who talk about themselves in third person.”
He shoves his hands into the pockets of his grey pants, part of a crisp three-piece suit and a perfectly tied, navy-blue tie. He prowls around the edge of the bed. My hackles rise but I refuse to take a step back. His voice rumbles right through me when he says, “Americans are so quick to judge. I’m a friend, not a foe.”
I tense when he rounds my corner of the bed. His movements are quick and stealthy. Like a jungle cat. In a matter of seconds, he’s looming over me and toying with a lock of my hair. He brings it to his nose and he inhales me.
“Why are you here, Vienna?”
I turn to face him, refusing to cower under his intimidation. I’ve spent months cowering. This Diego prick is nothing in comparison to motherfucking Esteban. “Because they decided to hurt and betray me. Because they don’t care about me. I’m here because they think I’m a pawn. I’m here because they don’t know me at all.”
“Fearless,” he murmurs, his face inches from mine. I can smell the lingering scent of cigar smoke from this proximity.
“And angry,” I admit, a slight crack to my voice.
His fingertip strokes my cheek. The movement is gentle and far from sexual, despite his earlier threatening words. “You want vengeance.”
I swallow when his finger slides down the side of my throat. “That’s part of the plan.”
Our eyes lock and a storm brews in his eyes. “What’s the other part of the plan?”
“I like to call it plan D.”
His loud, abrupt laughter startles me. “Ahhh, you are too fucking adorable. I like you.”
I growl after him as he strides to the door, his long legs eating up the distance in no time. “Well I don’t like you!”
He twists the knob and looks over his shoulder at me. “Not yet, mi diablita, but you will. All women like me eventually.” With a wink, he’s gone. And I refuse to admit that his stupid wink made my stomach do a little twist.
I manage to hide out in my room for the next few days. Ingrid brings me food fit for a queen—actual feasts, God bless her—and Tatiana takes care of me in other ways. She fusses over my well-being and brings me gifts. Once she took out my stitches, she brought me some makeup that matched my skin tone and some clothes that were my size. The swimsuit she purchased is a sparkly green two-piece that I absolutely love. I’m not sure what I’m doing here in Diego’s house or exactly what my plan is—despite my lie, telling him I had one—but one thing’s for sure, I’m going to swim in that pool. I may as well enjoy myself before I go on a bad-guy killing spree.
I haven’t seen Diego since he came into my room that day, thank God. I never dreamed he’d be as hot as he is. Not that it matters. But it does make the plan easier. Whatever the plan is. As I put on the new swimsuit, I ponder what the plan really could be. I could always manipulate Diego into liking me. If I earned his trust, then he could send his men after Esteban and Oscar. He could do the dirty work. Then, I could take him out while he sleeps one night.
That plan seems feasible.
But getting men to like me has always backfired on me. The one man I’d always wanted never once touched me until he decided to use me in a ploy for revenge. Punched me in the damn face as if our friendship meant nothing and then raped me, knowing I couldn’t stop him. A normal woman would be reduced to tears. Not me, though. I’m positively fucking furious. The Rojas brothers once again used me for their own personal gain. This is no different than all those summers when Oscar would toy with my emotions and Esteban would laugh at my expense. Their family has always been number one, and I was never a part of it. I was nothing but a silly girl to them.
They are going to regret this.
I’m going to need to make this plan work.
It’s time to show them they fucked with the wrong chick. I’m not playing their games anymore. This time, I’m running the show. This time, I’ll be the one laughing as I make them pay.
I twist my wild red locks into a messy bun. I’ve spent some time on my makeup today and given myself a darker look than I normally wear. I decide I resemble a seductress like Oscar claimed. Good. The cover up Tatiana brought me is cream-colored and sheer. I slip it on over the swimsuit before leaving the safety of my room. I’m heading toward the back staircase that leads to the pool when I hear a voice. Curiosity gets the better of me, and I sneak down the hallway to Camilo’s old office. When I peek around the doorway, I see Diego pacing the office with a phone pressed to his ear.
“She’s fine, cariño. I promise on my big dick. Now take care of those babies. When have I ever not kept a promise to you?” He smiles. “That’s what I thought.” Then his voice grows serious. “Remember…you owe me big for this. And one day soon, I will call on you for repayment.”
I’m dying to know who he is talking to. A wife? For some reason, that thought annoys me. A wife means more baggage. My plan to kill him will grow complicated with more people involved. He hangs up the phone and his eyes dart over to where I’m standing. His shit-eating grin falls away as anger contorts his features.
“Why in the fuck are you walking around the house in your bra and panties?” he snarls, the muscle in his neck twitching.
I curl my lip at him. “Good afternoon to you too, asshole.”
His fury melts away and he grins. “That mouth will get you in trouble one day, mi diablita.”
“I’m going swimming. Want to come?” I grit out. He’s making my plans of seduction very difficult.
Shock flashes in his eyes and his mouth parts. I’ve only encountered him a couple of times and each time, I could easily read his emotions. I’d love to play poker with this guy. I would take him for every penny he’s worth with that expressive face.
“You want me to come swim with you? With you…” he utters and waves at me. “Looking like that?”
I’m stung by his words. “Jesus! Be a prick, why don’t you? I thought I looked nice.” My mouth forms a pout.
He stalks my way and looms over me without actually touching me. “You do not look nice.”
I jerk away from him and storm toward the door. I’ve barely made it to the threshold when a strong hand grips my elbow. I’m forced up against the door jam, and Diego presses his entire hard body against me. His impressive erection stabs at me from behind. When he brings his mouth to my ear, his breath tickles me.
“Nice is a word for grandmas and fucking sunrises. You…” he murmurs as his palm roams around my front to touch my breast through my swimsuit. “You are like a thousand sunrises. Too bright and too goddamned beautiful for human eyes. I’m blind just looking at you, mi diablita.”
His thumb rubs across my hardened nipple, and I gasp. So much for me being the seductress. The man pins me up against a doorframe and whispers a few sweet nothings into my ear and I’m seconds from begging him to strip me out of this nice swimsuit.
“I have too much work to do,” he murmurs before nibbling at my earlobe. “But I can assure you, I’ll be watching. I’ll always be watching.”
I shudder and it’s not from disgust. I’m shocked that my body seems to respond to him whenever he’s near. No fucking surprise there, though. My pussy seems to start flashing like a disco ball whenever a bad guy is in the vicinity.
Diego stalks off to somewhere in the house, and I stand there stunned for a moment. I’m really going to have to get my act together. Falling for the villain is not part of the plan. I’ve done enough of that to last a lifetime.