Chapter 3

3

EMILIA

S even o’clock comes and goes without my appearance at Javier’s suite as ordered. I’d already arranged a Zoom meeting with Bob to go over his new proposal. I wasn’t changing that for Javier.

My phone sounds with a text at 7:01 p.m.

Javier: Where are you?

Me: I informed you I was busy. If you’re nice to me, I may come to your suite once I’m finished what I’m doing.

Javier: I have another meeting at 8pm.

Me: It’s good to know you scheduled an entire hour for your fiancée.

Javier: Don’t keep me waiting.

“Emilia,” Bob says over Zoom, drawing my attention back to our conversation. “Are we going to come to an agreement on this tonight?”

“If you agree to give me another five percent, we will.”

“Fuck,” he says, looking pained. We’ve been going back and forth for an hour on this, and I know I’m beating him down, so if he says no, I just need to keep going. However, he exhales and nods before saying, “I’ll give you another five percent.”

“Good decision, Bob. This is going to bring you a lot of money.”

“I don’t doubt it, but I would have preferred that extra five percent.”

He should have done better homework on me. Everyone I do business with knows I don’t back down. They know I always get what I want.

“I’ll have the new contract drawn up and sent over first thing tomorrow,” I say, and we end the call.

I close my laptop and take a deep breath as I think about what I have to do now.

Javier.

I have to have dinner with the man who will be my husband in less than forty-eight hours.

God knows what he wants to discuss. My guess is he’ll attempt to tell me how our marriage will be run, at which point he’ll discover what I think of that idea.

With one last check of my appearance, I exit my room and head up to the next floor. I made sure to choose a red dress for tonight even though wearing a dress for Javier is the last thing I want to do. I have my reasons, though, the low-cut style with a slit that reveals my toned leg chosen for maximum attention.

I can’t afford to ever relax with Javier.

Not my thoughts, my feelings, or my ability to keep him on his toes.

This dress will help with that.

I arrive at 7:14 p.m. and immediately sense the caged energy surrounding him. The one thing I know for sure with Javier is that he’s unpredictable at the best of times, and these are not the best of times, so I have no idea of predicting what he will say or do. If his body language is anything to go by, I need to remain on high alert. He’s made of stone tonight.

“Sit,” he orders, gesturing at the dining table situated in one of the glass balconies of the suite. I’ve stayed in some of the most luxurious penthouses around the world, but this one takes my breath away.

We’re 700 feet above Manhattan with 360-degree views. The cathedral ceilings, lacquered walls with mother-of-pearl inlays, plush carpet, sleek accents, and cut-glass chandelier that glitters like a piece of diamond above the dining table steal my attention from the imposing man I’m here to see.

Only for a few moments, though.

Javier makes sure of that.

He moves behind me while I gaze out at the city, places his hand on my hip, and brings his mouth to my ear. “I don’t appreciate being kept waiting. Don’t do it again.”

His touch scatters need through me, and my body goes to war with my head.

Goddamn it, I do not want to feel any desire for this man, but I’ve never been able to switch it off. Not even after what he did two years ago, and not even when he’s being an asshole. I’ve kept tabs on him in those two years, never letting him go fully, and here I am, still wanting him.

Without moving, I say, “And I don’t appreciate your way of handling me.”

He exhales and I feel his frustration. “You require managing if this marriage is to work.”

I spin to face him, my own irritation flaring. “This marriage will work because I’ll make sure it does. Your management of me will piss me off, though, and you won’t enjoy the fallout of that, so I suggest you rework your assumptions of how this is going to go.”

His nostrils flare while those eyes of his darken. “Sit,” he orders again, and I know now is not the time to push him further than I already have. Javier has his limits; of that I am very aware. I’m also aware it was likely those limits that caused him to walk away from me two years ago. This time, he can’t walk away. God knows what his preferred method of dealing with me will be once we’re married.

I sit and watch as he moves to the other end of the table. It’s not a long table; only six people could sit at it comfortably, but there are only two chairs.

Javier is still wearing the suit he wore earlier today, and I can’t help but indulge my desire to run my eyes over his body as he moves. Damn him for being so good looking. And damn him for wearing suits like no other man can. And that black dress shirt he’s teamed the suit with? It’s sexy in a way I wish it wasn’t. All I can imagine is running my hands over it and his muscles, up to his neck, before kissing him.

Jesus.

I reach for the glass of wine his butler has just filled for me and take a long gulp. I regret the way I take that sip the second Javier’s eyes look at me knowingly. The bastard never misses a thing.

He sits back in his seat and assesses me some more before saying, “We need to lay some ground rules.”

Right, straight into it.

I can get on board with this.

“Agreed.”

“I have my apartment in New York and my home in Medellin. You will divide your time between the two with me.”

This demand is not unexpected, but it doesn’t work for me. I shake my head. “No, my work is here. I will move into your apartment here.”

His lips flatten. “No. You will go where I go.”

My forehead wrinkles. “There’s no need for that. Neither of our families expect that.”

“I expect that.”

My frown remains. “Whatever for?”

“You will be my wife, Emilia. That is what I expect of a wife.”

“I will be your wife in name only.”

“You will be my wife in more than name.”

I blink as my pulse quickens. Surely, he can’t mean what I assume he means. “You’re going to need to be more specific there.”

His eyes don’t stray from mine. “We will be married, and while we might not love each other, I will require you to be a wife in every way a woman is a wife.”

My breaths come faster as I stare at him, stunned. This is not how I saw this going. “No.”

“Yes.”

“I’m not fucking you, Javier. That’s what you’ll have mistresses for.”

He reaches for his drink, still with his eyes boring into mine. “I won’t take a mistress.”

No, no, no.

I can’t sleep with him.

I won’t sleep with him.

He already owns my heart; I can’t allow him to own my body as well.

He will ruin me completely. Absolutely. Without question.

I shove my chair back and stand. “I agreed to marry you. I did not agree to live with you or to sleep with you, and I will never agree to those things.”

I’m halfway to the door of the suite when his strong arm circles my waist from behind. Halting me, he pulls my body flush against his while gripping me so tightly I struggle for breath. Mouth against my ear, he growls, “Perhaps I need to remind you of how much you like fucking me.”

Before I have a chance to gather my scrambled thoughts, he brings his other hand to the slit in my dress and reaches under it to slide his fingers inside my panties.

Oh. God.

I thought I remembered how good it felt to have him, but I’ve forgotten.

There’s not another man alive who brings me to life the way Javier does.

I sag against him, helpless but to allow him to continue on his path to my destruction.

“I remember exactly how you like me to fuck you, Emilia,” he says, circling his finger over my clit and uttering words my heart wants more of.

I want to tell him to stop.

I also want to tell him to never ever stop.

I’m so screwed.

He runs his fingers through the wetness I can’t hide from him, no matter how much I want to. “Do you want me inside you?”

No.

Never.

Yes.

“No.” I place my hand over his on my waist and attempt to pry his fingers from me. “I want you to stop what you’re doing.”

His strength is no match for mine. I’m unable to force him away. Instead, I only succeed in encouraging him to hold me harder against him. “You don’t want me to stop. You want this,” he says before pushing two fingers inside me.

My legs go weak as he builds my pleasure.

As he chases my fall.

“I don’t,” I manage to grit out.

He reaches deeper inside me. “Stop fighting me.”

“I will never stop fighting you.”

“And yet, here you are, in my arms, fucking dripping for me.”

Deeper, deeper, deeper.

His fingers are far too good at what they’re doing.

My head falls against his shoulder and my back arches as the bliss becomes too much.

“You will be my wife in all the ways I demand. Say it.”

“No.”

He withdraws his fingers and I want to beg for them back, but I will never beg this man for a thing.

“Say it.” His tone turns darker.

“No. I refuse to say it and I refuse to agree to it.”

He moves before I realize what’s happening, taking me with him to the sofa. Bending me over the back of it, he presses his erection against my ass while curling a hand around my neck. I curse the fact I like his dominance so damn much.

“I would prefer not to drag this out,” he rasps. “But if I have to, I will.”

“You’ll be dragging it out for life, then.”

His fingers dig into my skin harder as he pushes my dress up with his free hand. “Do you still like to be fucked here?” he asks, running his finger over the crack of my ass through my panties.

Again, I want to beg him for those fingers, right where he has them, but I don’t. Instead, I say, “I’m not doing this with you, Javier.”

“You might think that, but I don’t see you fighting me off, and I sure as fuck don’t hear you telling me to let you go.”

His fingers slip under my panties and find my back hole. Pushing his thumb against it, he curves his hand under me to reach for my clit with another finger.

Holy hell, this is what I’ve been missing for two years.

He’s what I’ve been missing.

I need to tell him to stop. To fight him off, like he said. But even I know there’s no way I’m doing either of those things. Not when he’s making me feel so damn good.

Except, I have to, or the dynamic between us will shift altogether and I’ll lose any footing I have.

Drawing on every ounce of strength I have, I push his hand away and straighten. Turning, before he can stop me, I meet his gaze. “Take this as me fighting you off and telling you no.” Placing my hand to his chest, I add, “I will marry you. I will move into your New York apartment. But I will not travel with you, and I will not fuck you. Those are the only ground rules I’m agreeing to, and if you don’t like them, consider this marriage over before it even began.”

With that, I leave his suite and almost run back to mine, my heart beating way too fast.

This marriage must go ahead.

There’s no way out of it for me.

What I just said to Javier is an empty promise and he knows it as much as I do.

All that’s left now is to wait for his response.

And pray I don’t buckle under the need I have for him, because the only truth in all this mess is that I want him like I want no other man.

Javier Torres might be going into our marriage feeling no love for me, but I love him. And that will be my downfall.