Papa led me toward a table, nodding to one of the waiters to pour me a glass. I was somewhat surprised he’d chosen my favorite rose champagne. While I adored the vintage, the color had always signified possible weakness.

  When the flute was firmly planted in my hand, my father grabbed a knife, tapping it against the open bottle. “Ladies and gentlemen, I believe everyone here knows my beautiful daughter, Genevieve. She has graced my home with her presence once again and this time, on a permanent basis. Please welcome her home and celebrate in the joy that she’s accepted the position of abogada.”

  As I’d expected, there were several gasps from the crowd. Being labeled the family attorney had obviously been unexpected. As my father’s councilor, I had more power than his lieutenants. That put the fear of God into people, including guests who’d only known me as a little girl.

  I swept the room, chilling my expression and my smile to a point I sensed fear. I’d been taught how to play the game better than almost anyone. Now it was time to practice what I’d been taught.

  Turning the fear into terror for the devil and his spawn.

  After everyone quieted down from clapping and begrudgingly cheering my new appointment, I kissed my father on the cheek.

  He squeezed my hand, his grin as mischievous as I’d remembered from early on. He certainly didn’t need to worry what anyone else thought at this point in his life. He either owned or controlled half of Spain.

  I mingled through the crowd, accepting fake congratulations. While some might be considered my father’s friends, one thing I’d learned was that you couldn’t trust anyone but your family and a few select others under any circumstances.

  After a rousing forty-five minutes of pretending as if I gave a shit about anything being discussed, I needed some air and a moment to myself. Fortunately, the private room also opened directly to the hallway leading to the restrooms. After a few seconds of careful calculation, I was able to slip out on my own.

  I took a deep breath, laughing softly to myself. I’d been a hellion as a child, slipping away from my parents on several occasions. I’d finally learned after almost being kidnapped that it was in my best interest to stay close to my appointed guards.

  As two women left the ladies’ room, I pulled myself together and headed there. Once inside, I stared at myself in the mirror, wondering where the girl who used to wear jeans with her hair always in a ponytail had disappeared to. She’d been the girl attending classes and spending weekends in the library or working at the coffee shop.

  The woman dressed in a body-hugging cobalt dress staring back at me was barely recognizable. The festive attire was nothing more than a uniform, the color matching that of our family crest. A statement piece. Yes, my father had taught me well.

  I pulled out my lipstick, grateful I’d purchased a twenty-four-hour lip stain instead of gloss. I touched it up more to buy some additional time, but knew Emiliano was likely having a cow about now. The last thing I wanted was to get him in trouble on his first night back on duty since arriving back home.

  That would shame his mother and father.

  Chuckling, I threw open the door, almost dropping the slender tube as I headed outside. I’d never considered myself clumsy, but when I ran smack into a hard substance, I almost tumbled to the floor.

  “What the…” At least I managed to bite back a series of very American curse words before spewing them, jerking my head up to stare into the most insanely gorgeous pair of obsidian eyes. The extreme cocktail of emotions from running into a rock-hard body assaulted my senses almost violently.

  There was no doubt the man I’d run into was the one from the other side of the room. I was forced to suck in my breath as I drank in the brutal cut of his chin and his sloping jawline stubbled with a hint of a beard. He was even more gorgeous up close, his dark, wavy hair longer than most men who worked in what I considered a highly conservative field. It was slightly tousled as if he’d just engaged in a lust-filled night of passion. With an aristocratic nose and cheekbones most actors would die for, he was the epitome of a photographic face.

  Wearing a wry smile, he kept a firm, steadying grip on my arm as he allowed his gaze to fall.

  There was silence between us with maybe a hint of annoyance, but that allowed me to bask in him in his entirety. He wasn’t dressed like any other man in the restaurant, the five-star establishment requiring appropriate attire.

  His aura told me he was a rule breaker and that instantly attracted me even though I considered myself a staunch follower of rules, laws, and moral decency. From the soft pleat of his tailored yet casual cream linen pants housing muscular thighs to the stunning ultramarine-blue jacket accentuating his broad shoulders and lean waist, my mouth was watering.

  That was so not like me.

  When you threw in the too-tight tee shirt hugging his sculpted physique and clearly defined abs, my mind insisted I’d died and gone to alpha male heaven.

  Get a grip, girl. Snap out of it.

  “I am so sorry. I should have been paying attention to where I was going,” he said, his English flawless while his Spanish accent remained full of promises of romance.

  I was instantly drawn to him, my breath stolen for a few precious seconds until I realized I had my hand placed directly in the center of his chest. The realization felt far too personal, so much so I curled my fingers, pulling my fisted hand away.

  “No need for apologies. I wasn’t looking where I was going.” Most men would back away once knowing the person they kept from falling on their face was perfectly fine.

  Not this man.

  He crowded my space instead, narrowing his eyes as he peered into mine. There was a blatant, fiery chemistry between us, a knowing hunger that I knew was rare since I’d never found it before. Not that I’d been looking. He placed his hand on the wall next to me and I noticed the tattoos stamped on his fingers, the letters in Spanish.

  Even his hands were gorgeous, strong and powerful like the rest of him.

  The need crawling through me was insatiable like the darkness my father commanded in all aspects of his life.

  The mystery man pressed the full weight of his body against mine and I was no longer just breathless, I was strangely mesmerized even if there was a slight nagging in the back of my mind. I never allowed anyone to get close. Yet it appeared he wasn’t taking no for an answer.

  “Mi velada se volvió mucho más satisfactoria desde que un ángel entró en mi vida.” His words were little more than a husky whisper said right before he captured my mouth.

  My evening just became much more satisfying since an angel walked into my life.

  I’d been kissed before, but not like this. Nothing in my world had prepared me for a rough kiss that literally took my breath away. I sensed nothing about the man was gentle. He was drowning and I was the only one who could save him.

  I was almost instantly tipsy although I’d only had two glasses of champagne, the lightheadedness enough I was forced to wrap my fingers around his shirt. The moment he slipped his tongue past my lips, I involuntarily arched my back. The scent of him was incredible, hints of dark wood and citrus mixed with exotic spices evoking filthy visions.

  The kiss was so entirely unexpected that I would have thought myself frozen, but I wasn’t, instead shifting my hips back and forth. The man was hard as a rock while my nipples were fully aroused, my pussy throbbing.

  He tasted of warm liquor and mint, the mixture intoxicating. He was rough and unforgiving, holding me hostage as if I was his possession.

  When he finally pulled away, I dragged my tongue across my bottom lip. If anyone else had done something so erratic, he’d have experienced my displeasure as a sharp crack of my hand.

  His smile was on the devilish side, which exaggerated the dimple in his chin.

  “Do that again.”

  I was so breathless that I barely recognized what I’d just demanded.

  “Be careful asking something like that of a man like me.”

  “I’m not asking.”

  He didn’t give me any time to catch my breath before kissing me again, immediately thrusting his tongue past my lips. He fisted my hair, holding me in place as if I dared want to go anywhere else. Everything about the moment was sinful, a decadent taste that I should never have allowed.

  But I never wanted it to end.

  When he was finished, he traced a line down my neck with his lips, the light scratch of his beard creating a wave of gentle yet insistent quivers. He pulled me away from the wall and I allowed my head to lean back as he rubbed his groin back and forth. He wanted me to realize how hard he was for me.

  At that moment, I couldn’t care less who was watching or why I was there in the first place. If he wanted to drag me into the bathroom and have his way with me, I wouldn’t stop him.

  He cupped my face, pulling back enough to gaze into my eyes as he rubbed his thumb across my cheek.

  “Enjoy your evening. Perhaps we’ll meet again.” His words were husky and dark, a promise made and one I prayed he’d fulfill.

  “Perhaps we will.” I remained where I was, giving him a thoughtful nod as he walked away. His aura was ripe with danger and sensuality, the man wearing power in his casual attire and formidable swagger.

  When he walked out the back door, I finally took a deep breath.

  “Wow.” Laughing, I touched my lips, which were still tingling from his roughness. What in God’s name had just happened?

  At this point, I needed a few minutes to myself. I headed into the restaurant and toward the bar.

  “¿Qué puedo conseguir para la bella dama?” the bartender asker.

  What can I get for the beautiful lady?

  His question was followed by a flirtatious smile.

  “Blood-red wine.” I purposely used English, which often disarmed my would-be suitors.

  “As the lady wishes.” He tapped the bar, giving me a onceover before turning around to fill my order.

  I took a deep breath, brushing my fingers across my lips. The kiss would remain a highlight of the evening.

  Within two minutes the wine was brought. At least the bartender didn’t bother trying to make any headway again. I leaned against the bar, enjoying the few minutes alone as I thought about the job I’d accepted. There would be a huge adjustment, something that would take getting used to, but I couldn’t disappoint my father. He’d done so much for me in my life.

  The music was nice, the crowd lively, and the next few minutes were peaceful.

  Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop!

  The gunfire was explosive, screams almost instantly following the horrible sounds. I dropped to my knees as I’d been trained to do and within seconds, all hell broke loose. There was additional gunfire, loud shouts, and people running to safety.

  Several bolted out the door, almost running me over in the process. I tried to fight my way through the crowd, almost knocked down twice.

  “Genevieve!” Emiliano’s voice boomed over the shrieks. When he captured my location, he pushed and shoved his way through the people, not caring if he hurt them in the process. When he finally reached me, he wrapped his arms around me, shielding me from everything and everyone else. “We’re leaving. Now.”

  “Bella. Where’s Bella?”

  “She’s safe.”

  I gasped for air, ripping at his jacket in my attempt to struggle free from his hold. “Let me go!”

  “No, Genevieve. We need to leave.”

  “Not without my father.”

  “No, Genevieve. Listen to me. We need to get you to safety,” Emiliano hissed.

  Several of our hitmen were running.

  More gunfire.

  More shouts.

  “No! I will see my father.” Somehow, I was able to claw my way free, holding back tears as I slammed my hands against anyone who got in my way. When I managed to push my way back into the private room, I scanned every corner in search of him.

  There was blood everywhere, bodies lying on the floor.

  Then I saw my father.

  “No, Genevieve. I need to get you to safety. The shooters could still be active.”

  Active?

  The fuckers had attacked my family!

  I heard Emiliano’s voice and was cognizant several other hitmen were running toward us, trying to keep me safe, but I only had eyes for my father. He’d always seemed invincible, so strong and caring. He’d done his best to provide his family with a normal life even as danger crowded closer.

  Maybe I should have never taken anything about him for granted. He’d had so many enemies, men of power who would do anything to take him away from me.

  “Papa! Papa!”

  My carefully crafted world suddenly didn’t exist. No matter how safe I’d believed it to be, everything had merely been an illusion. The future I’d thought bright had just come crashing down on me.

  “Genevieve. We need to go. Now!” Emiliano tried to drag me away, but I shoved my hands against him.

  “No! Find the monster. I want the bastard’s head brought to me on a silver platter.”

  Tears sprang to my eyes as I dropped to the floor beside my father’s bloodied body. As I cradled his head in my arms, I threw my head back, allowing everyone in the restaurant to hear my pain.

  “Te amo, Papá. Lo siento mucho. Dios es testigo de que vengaré tu muerte.”

  Yes, I would avenge my father’s death if it was the last thing I did on this earth.

  That was the moment I knew the young woman who’d seen the world with rose-colored glasses no longer existed. There would be no one who’d ever see me suffer or hear me cry again. No one.

  For I was Genevieve Morales, daughter of the most powerful man in Europe.

  CHAPTER 3

  Jago

  “Dump him on the mat,” I commanded as I stood off to the side, removing my shirt from the neck and tossing it aside. I’d come to the club to release some pent-up, hostile energy, furious a meeting that I’d thought would bring us some additional business had failed. But I wasn’t finished with my offer. Only next time it would be one the asshole wouldn’t be able to refuse.

  Carlos obeyed instantly, tossing the fucker who’d betrayed me into the center of the thick mat.

  “Ciento!” The yell came from several feet away, the crowd of men swarming the ring pumping their fists. They were hungry for blood.

  So was I.

  One hundred fucking lousy euros were bid. I snickered and climbed through the ropes, turning in a full circle so everyone in the club could see I’d taken the stage. I rarely fought, but when I did, the stakes soared.

  So did the bids.

  “Cinco mil euros.”

  Five thousand was more like it.

  As I approached the already broken man, the bids only increased.

  When I was standing over the son of a bitch, he managed to lift his head, gasping for air as a string of blood-soaked saliva oozed from his mouth. With one eye swollen already, he was having difficulty focusing. The traitor wouldn’t need to worry. His condition would rapidly change.

  I grabbed him by the throat, easily lifting him into the air. As I held him aloft, another round of bids ensued.

  That was good for my club and for its reputation.

  After dropping him hard, the thud resonating throughout the room, a collective cheer went up. I backed away, a bit amazed the asshole managed to struggle to his feet. I wiped my mouth and issued a hard axe kick, sending his body against the ropes.

  He crumpled and I noticed a few others from the adjoining bar had surrounded the enclosure.

  Another surprise was when he lunged toward me. I dodged the cross, immediately issuing a back fist. He hadn’t been prepared for the move. With ease I performed a double-leg takedown, toppling him to the mat once again, instantly providing several brutal punches to his face. I was rewarded with blood spewing from his nose as the bones crushed with the force.

  There were definite benefits to learning mixed martial arts at an early age.

  Now, in a tight hold, I wrapped one leg around his neck. He peered up at me with pleading eyes, slobbering like the fool he’d been when making the decision to betray me.

  Suddenly, the entire club became very quiet, the men leaning forward in anticipation of my next move. There was nothing like the raw power possessed when enjoying the savagery of MMA fights. I excelled at it, turning the sport into a profitable business. While I rarely participated, when I did the club exceeded maximum capacity.

  Today was no exception.

  “You shouldn’t have crossed me. Tonight, you face my punishment.” I lifted my head toward the heavens as I twisted my leg.

  The hard crack as his neck snapped was a sweet reward.

  Another cheer from the crowd brought another moment of rage. No one dared cross me. They knew better. Why this fuck had done so was a question that would need a decent answer.

  Eventually.

  What I’d discovered enraged me on several levels, including that I’d obviously become too soft. In enjoying the perks of wealth, I’d allowed the treacherous man to provide intel to the Turks, enemies that had sniffed around Spain for years. That’s why the meeting I’d had in the restaurant had gone south.

  I kicked his lifeless body away, taking my time to rise to my feet. When I threw my arms in the air, turning in a full circle, the men in the room began to shout my name.

  Even the women were cheering, pushing their way closer to the ring in hopes of grabbing my attention. Perhaps later I would select one to fuck before tossing them away like the trash they were.

  But doing so would issue another sign of my control.

  This was just a warning.

  There would be others.

  I moved off the stage, immediately handed a towel. As I wiped the traitor’s blood from my face, Kruz headed toward me. I could tell by his expression he had business on his mind. He held the position of dictator, a coveted role that provided him with my full trust as well as a padded expense account. He was as ruthless as I was, a required trait for advancing within my organization. As always, our profit and loss were on his mind. That’s what I valued most about the man.