Their Cartel Princess: The Complete Series: A Dark Reverse Harem Box Set Read online

  “Tío?”

  “It’s Javier, child,” Martin muttered. And then he smiled. Widely, deeply. “Of course I won’t stop you, Mr. Finn. But the guards patrolling my compound just might.” He set his wineglass down and rose slowly, straightening his suit. That dark blue fabric gleamed with hidden textures; it probably cost more than Finn was paid in a year.

  “Fuck it,” Lars muttered. “I haven’t even had dessert.”

  “We’ll stop for a goddamn vanilla shake,” Finn snapped back, and then wished he hadn’t. He sounded petty, and unnerved, and it was making his beast stir. And with it, a wave of anxiety. The walls slid closer like they were wired to some hidden mechanism he’d triggered by announcing his intention to leave.

  “Finn, please. Stay,” came Cora’s voice.

  His eyes flickered to her. When she got to her feet, the colors in the rest of the room faded like she’d absorbed their pigments. He’d barely noticed the shape of her while they’d been on the run. There hadn’t been time. But now there was no way not to take her in. Her curves, the glow of her skin.

  When he realized he hadn’t inhaled for too long, he swallowed hard and took a step back. Hoping that he could escape from her aura and get his fucking senses back.

  It didn’t work.

  “You haven’t stopped,” she said.

  Was it just his imagination, or had her voice changed too? Growing deeper, huskier. Then he noticed her flushed cheeks. The lights sparkling in her eyes. She was tipsy. Maybe even drunk.

  “It’s been a week and you haven’t stopped once.” She lifted a slim hand, taking in the villa. “You’re safe now.” She pressed those fingers to her collar bone. “I’m safe now. Take a day. You deserve it.”

  Like he was some kind of sick and needed his boss’s fucking permission for a day’s sick leave.

  He knew the thought was irrational, but everything about this place, these people, was getting under his skin. He’d never been good in company. Never good with social etiquette. Give him a rifle—any fucking rifle—and he’d field strip it under fifteen seconds. But this? He didn’t have the experience for this fucking shit.

  Finn took another step back. Cora’s face shifted to disappointment, and he felt that like nails dragging through his skin. If Lars hadn’t snatched at him, he would have turned and walked out the door.

  “Neither of us should be driving,” Lars said, just loud enough for Finn to hear. “You know that, Milo.”

  He did, of course. He still wasn’t right in the head. His thoughts were still insubstantial and flimsy things.

  He sank back into his chair. Defeated. Deflated.

  And, when he looked at Cora again, when those gold-flecked eyes held his. Perfectly innocent. Utterly naive.

  Yes…let’s stay.

  33

  A pleasant dinner with good company

  She’d had too much to drink. Everyone at the table had, even Finn. Cora watched him under lowered lashes as he tossed back a tumbler of rum. He’d descended into a dark, brooding silence after his friend had urged him to sit down again. She was glad he was staying, but at the same time his presence made the air sticky with the anticipation of violence.

  Cora smiled to herself. That was something she’d come to expect with Finn. Violence. Anger. Misery. He wasn’t a happy man, but she’d never really known happy men, had she? Only Bailey, who’d always been ready with a smile for her.

  But not her father. At least, not after Naomie and Sophia’s deaths.

  Her Unc—Javier was probably the closest thing to a happy person she knew. The few times she’d seen him—the one time she could remember him sharing a meal with her family, when that family had consisted of more than just two people—had been a man with a laughing face and bright eyes. Even now, his carefree joy was as intoxicating as her glass of wine.

  “You!” Javier called out.

  Lost in her thoughts, she turned to Javier expecting that he’d been calling her. But he had a hand up, gesturing impatiently to one of the servants standing like guards at the entrance to the dining room.

  The woman hurried to his side, bobbing a curtsy for all the world like he was a duke, and then leaned close so he could whisper something in her ear. Then another curtsy, and she was scurrying from the room as fast as she could without breaking into a run.

  Javier stood. He spread his arms wide to take in his handful of guests. “I think a celebration is in order.”

  Ana laughed, and then cut off the sound with her hand. She’d been intent on teaching Cora how to keep herself in the threshold between drunk and tipsy, but it seemed it was something she hadn’t managed to master herself yet. The woman’s cheeks were as dark as if she’d rouged them. The serving woman returned less than a minute later, a bottle of champagne under one arm and a saber in the other. She brought both over to Javier, who gave her a fond smile before flicking his fingers to dismiss her. He turned to the assembled crowd and held the champagne up in one hand, the saber with the other.

  The champagne looked to be one of those expensive ones, the saber something long and silver that gleamed in the light thrown down by the chandelier.

  When Cora glanced across at Finn, she saw that he wasn’t looking at her, just Javier. There was nothing she could read from his expression, but apprehension still filled the air. Perhaps it was the saber Javier held that was so intimidating. Or perhaps it was just her uncle’s posture; proud and arrogant and so full of himself.

  “It’s not every day that I receive such an honored guest at my humble home,” Javier said. He cast a look at Cora, holding onto her gaze for what seemed like an eternity before looking back at the champagne bottle in his hands. He hoisted the bottle theatrically, and sliced at it with the saber. The cork and about an inch of the bottle flew over the top of the dining room table, and came to land at the foot of the servant who had brought to him. She took a step back, as if worried that the cork might jump up and bite her.

  Javier held the streaming bottle over the champagne flutes that another servant had placed on the table beside him. Cora took her flute from the servant when he past it to her and gave it a hesitant sip. What if glass had gotten inside when Javier had sliced off the neck?

  Finn gulped on his champagne, and set the flute down hard enough that Cora was surprised that it didn’t crack. He rose, turned to Javier, and said, “Good night.”

  Javier looked across at him in surprise, and put his fingertips against his chest. “Leaving so soon, Mr. Finn?”

  Finn straightened, but didn’t say anything in return. Javier nodded once and waved a hand at one of the servants. The man came to his side, and Javier murmured something to him under his breath. Finn followed the man out, not looking back at anyone in the room. For a moment, cold poured into the room as if Finn’s presence had kept the warmth inside. And then conversation started up again, as rowdy and carefree as if Finn had never left. Perhaps even more so, now that he’d left.

  She tried to get back into her conversation with Anna, but she couldn’t concentrate on anything the woman said. Eventually, Ana gave up trying to talk to her, and moved around the table to sit beside Lars.

  Cora fidgeted with his silver ware until one of the servants came to clear the table. That was when Javier’s conversation with Sylvia ended, and he turned to her. He studied her for a while, and the longer he did so, the more she blushed.

  What was he thinking?

  “Ana, you’ve done a spectacular job,” Javier murmured, reaching out to run his fingertips down Cora’s sleek hair. “She looks breathtaking.”

  Ana’s only response was a giggle. Then she was back to her conversation with Silvia, whose eyes were heavy lidded with drink.

  “I have much to discuss with you,” Javier said.

  Cora blinked hard. “With me?”

  “Of course.” Javier sat back, spreading his arms wide. “You are Eleodora Rivera.”

  It was as if he was expecting something, so she shrugged.

  “You do
n’t know what that means yet,” he said, almost chidingly, “but you will. You must. Just because that name means nothing to you, does not mean it has become meaningless to others.”

  Something approaching irritation bloomed inside her. Just when she’d thought all this shit was over and done with. She’d been happy for all of three, maybe four, hours. And now this.

  She rose, pushing away her chair hard enough to draw everyone’s gaze. “It’s been a long day. I think I’ll go to bed, if that’s all right.”

  Javier gave her a long, slow smile. “Of course, mi reinita.” He twitched his hand as he laid it on the table. “Mi casa, su casa. Ana?” He turned to the blond woman, and gestured lazily at Cora. “Will you escort Elle back to her room?”

  “I know where it is,” Cora said, starting for the door.

  “Please, Elle. As safe as this haven of mine is, I would prefer I knew if you didn’t get lost along the way.”

  “I’ll take her,” Lars said, standing and waving a hand at Ana who’d started getting to her feet. “Please. I insist.”

  Javier gave Lars a gracious nod, and then beckoned Ana and Silvia to his side as he also got to his feet. “A pleasant dinner with good company,” Javier said, staring straight at Cora. “The first of many.” He draped an arm around each woman and left the dining room ahead of them, nuzzling his face first into Silvia’s neck and then Ana’s. Ana giggled, and Silvia squeezed his ass, her long nails glittering under the light of the chandelier.

  Cora let out a sigh, and slumped back in her chair as Lars’s let out a low whistle.

  “Got some interesting relatives, bunny.”

  “He’s not my real uncle,” she said. Hadn’t she said that before? Her brain felt like the thin soup they’d been served as an appetizer.

  She left the dining room, heading toward the staircase. She heard Lars’s boots stomping on the flagstones as he followed her.

  A night flower was blooming somewhere in the courtyard. She glanced over the exquisite garden. One of the larger fountains tinkled gaily with splashing water. Aphrodite, standing on a shell, just her hair for clothing. Another statue, more to the side and partially obscured by a dense climbing vine, caught her eye. A robed figure, facing away from Cora. Something about the way the statue had been positioned seemed important, but it was too far away for her to make out anything.

  She reached for her Santa Meurte pendant, but her fingers touched only bare skin.

  Right. Ana had made her take it off, saying it was a disgrace to have such beautiful collarbones disguised with such common jewelry. The woman had even grimaced a little as she’d taken it off Cora’s neck, as if she’d preferred not to have touched the Saint’s likeness.

  She and Lars went up the stairs. Cora turned to the left. Lars followed. She stopped in front of the door leading to her room and paused.

  “Thank you,” Cora said, turning her door handle. Then she paused. Gave Lars a quick look over her shoulder and shifted her weight.

  “Something on your mind, bunny?”

  “Are…did they…do you and Finn have the same room?”

  “Why do I get the feeling you want me to play messenger boy?” Lars said, not sounding happy about it.

  “Could you ask him to come see me? There’s something I need to—”

  “Yeah…no,” Lars cut in. “Hows about you tell him whatever you need to in the morning. You two can have a nice breakfast in the garden. Say whatever bullshit it is you have to say to each other out there in the open. During daylight. No more bad decisions.”

  “What exactly is your problem?” Cora stepped forward, and jabbed a finger in Lars’s chest. “You Finn’s mother or something? What’s it to you if we—”

  He grabbed her wrist and wrenched her hand away, releasing her a second later. “I’m his friend. Possibly his best one. And I don’t like what you’re doing to him.”

  “Which is what?” Cora glared at him.

  “You’re messing with his head. And that head’s been messed with enough for thirty men. Just leave him be.” Lars glanced down at her, giving her a dismissive once-over that made her skin tingle. “You’re a fine piece of ass, bunny, so, I’m sure whatever void Finn leaves between your legs, you can fill up pretty damn—”

  She slapped him.

  Maybe it was the frustration that had been building up all damn day. Javier’s mysterious promise at the dinner table. Just everything.

  Lars’s only reaction was a slight turn of his head. So she lifted her hand again, wanting something more visceral from him. He stepped back so she couldn’t reach him, spun on his heel, and strode down the corridor. Cora stared after him until he disappeared into a doorway on the other side of the corridor.

  Her hand tingled furiously, hot and aching where she’d slapped him.

  Would he still tell Finn? Somehow, she doubted it.

  34

  Mood:black

  The smell of the cologne he’d put on earlier was making him sick. When he got back to his room, Finn didn’t even bother with the main lights before tearing off everything except his briefs and storming into the bathroom to wash his face and neck. While the water was still running, he thought he heard something in the bedroom. The click of the door opening, closing perhaps? He turned off the water, letting it drip from his face into the gold-veined marble basin as he strained to hear something.

  Quiet.

  He grabbed a towel, dabbing his face as he pushed the bathroom door open a crack and peered into the room. It was empty. He pushed the door open all the way, his eyes hunting through the shadows until they found the intruder.

  Lars stood on the balcony, both hands clutching the railing as he peered into the inky land beyond. It was dark out here. No light pollution from buildings or street lamps. Nothing for miles.

  “They run out of food?” he called out to Lars.

  The man flinched as if Finn had startled him, and then turned to face him. “I’d had just about enough of El Guapo for one night.” Lars dragged his gaze over Finn’s naked skin.

  “What?” Finn asked, when Lars made no move to speak or leave.

  Lars shrugged. “Nothing. I got lonely. Thought I’d crash here. Now, I know you like sleeping on the right, but maybe we should—”

  Finn glanced at the bed, frowning. When he turned back, Lars had a too-wide smile on his mouth. “Christ, you should see the look on your face.”

  Finn dried his face and then tossed the damp towel into the bathroom where it draped over the basin. “Funny,” he muttered, although he felt the furthest goddamn thing from smiling right then. “So you just came here to gawk?” he asked, opening the closet. He’d seen some sweats earlier and went about trying to find a size that would fit.

  When he turned, Lars was less than two feet away. The man could move silently if he wanted, despite his height. Those grass-colored eyes studied Finn for so long it became uncomfortable and he had to drop his gaze, stepping into a pair of sweats as a guise for breaking eye contact.

  “We are leaving tomorrow, right?” Lars asked quietly. “You’re not suddenly going to come up with some excuse to stay?”

  Finn paused in the act of pulling on a t-shirt. Another black one, which suited his mood just fine. “I would have left tonight.”

  “Good. Because I like to think you’re still the Milo Finn I know, and not some pussy-whipped bitch who gave his balls away to a teenager.”

  For a moment—a brief, chaotic moment—both him and his beast wanted to lunge at Lars. He knew he wanted to punch the man, but what his beast wanted to do he wouldn’t want to try and guess. It had been slinking around in the darkest depths of his brain for the past hour, uneasy and brooding.

  As if it didn’t quite know what to do with the memories of him and Lars.

  “We’re leaving at dawn. Now let me get some fucking sleep.”

  “She’s not worth it, Milo.”

  Finn stared at Lars, but couldn’t bring himself to respond. The man could be overprotective at t
imes, but only because he still felt guilty. Lars hardly ever spoke about it, but he knew the man wished he’d been the one with a slit throat, not Finn. He probably thought about it every time he saw that scar across his throat.

  “That spoiled little princess could ever—”

  “Since when did you become so judgmental?” Finn crossed his arms over his chest. “You take one look at her, and suddenly you know her?”

  “I know she’s bad news. She almost got both of us killed. Something I’m pretty sure will keep happening the longer we stick around.”

  “Why don’t you actually get to know her before you slap a fucking label on her?”

  Lars cocked his head. “You know what? You make a valid point, Milo.” He ran his fingers through his hair, mussing up his long locks so they hung in his eyes. “How do I look?”

  Finn blinked at him. “You…you look fine. Why…?”

  But then Lars was out the door. Finn stared after him, lips still open a little, and gave his head a shake.

  This was the last thing he fucking needed.

  He shifted on the wooden floor. It was warm. He snorted. Of course it would have underfloor heating.

  He sat on the edge of his bed, trying to will himself to climb under the covers. Tried desperately not to wonder what Cora was doing and if he could find his way to her bedroom.

  The battle lasted minutes, but felt like hours. He lost; he always did of late.

  Minutes later, Finn slipped on his shoes and left his room.

  35

  Uninvited

  Cora stood on her balcony, shivering in the steadily cooling night air, when someone knocked. She jumped, smoothed her hands over her hair, and walked toward the door.

  Then stopped halfway across the floor.

  Was it Finn? Had Lars told him she wanted to speak to him?

  She looked around, hunting for her robe. There were several clothes in her walk-in closet, bought in expectation of her arrival. A few sparkling gowns—at first, she’d had no idea where she was supposed to wear them to, and then Ana had arrived dressed like she was going to a ball and it all fell into place—and some casual wear. Underwear in enough sizes that at least two pairs of everything could have fit anyone within three sizes—up or down—of her. Pajamas. The most practical of those being satin camisoles with matching hot pants. The nightgowns were much too short for any attempt at modest, and most barely opaque.