He’d ignored me.

  I’d laughed and yelled through the door we were going to have the most expensive wedding in the history of Barcelona and he was paying every last euro.

  He hadn’t responded.

  Tonight, he and I were going to have a long discussion. Yes, I’d perpetuated the childish behavior by telling him I would always hate him after witnessing his discussion with my brother. I’d overheard enough that I’d been pushed into an entirely different emotional state. Much like a mama bear with her cubs.

  I’d tried to be there for both my siblings, but realized that in pursuit of my own happiness, I’d forsaken their needs. I would never forgive myself. All I could do was try to give them the best life and the best advice.

  I grimaced visibly and she laughed and pushed me toward the dressing room. “Hurry. I’m hungry and if I’m forced to eat another five-course meal, I’m going to puke.”

  “Oh, yeah? What would my baby sister like?”

  “First of all, in case you haven’t looked, I’m no baby any longer. Second, a juicy and very messy cheeseburger.”

  “Now, there’s a girl after my own heart. A cheeseburger it is. But do you know what would be even better?”

  Bella looked at me with light in her eyes. I’d so missed spending time with her. “I’m afraid to ask.”

  “Krispy Kreme donuts.”

  “Donuts?”

  “Not just any donut, sissy girl, but the best donuts in the entire world. I can’t tell you how many sugar highs I had when I lived in New York. Just scrumptious.”

  “Let’s get some on the way home.”

  “Sadly, the very first store isn’t open yet and Madrid grabbed the honor.”

  She sighed, and oh, how dramatic she could be. “You’re so weird.”

  “Yes, I am and proud of it.”

  At least I felt more lighthearted as I headed into the dressing room.

  I took off the one from before, completely uncertain I’d ever find a simple yet stylish wedding dress I liked. They were all too frou-frou and I wasn’t that kind of girl. As I peeled away the plastic, a sudden vision of Jago’s face entered my mind. He smiled so rarely, but when he did, he was truly a handsome man.

  I hadn’t noticed until recently that he had a small scar under his left eye. The mere nick was nothing in comparison to the marks on his back. They were deeper scars, also longer. I had a sick feeling they were from a whip. The world was far too brutal.

  Every sound I made was labored, but I reminded myself I’d entered into the deal of free will. I tore at the plastic, hopeful Bella had the magic touch. I’d tried on six, each one worse than the one before. Maybe I should wear black instead. Now that would make a delicious statement.

  I slipped into the dress, shimmying back and forth until the material slid easily over my hips. For dramatic purposes, I bent down, fingering my hair then throwing it back over my shoulders as I stood before looking into the mirror.

  “Holy fuck.” I slapped my hand over my mouth as I gazed down the length. “It’s perfect.” The fit was like a glove, yet I could breathe. There’d be no need for alterations. The damn thing was white, but with the various iridescent jewels covering strategic areas, the dress almost had a glow. I could just imagine it under the right lighting.

  A flash, a twisted image of me with roses in my arms taking slow steps down a red carpet toward my handsome groom had me reaching for the wall to steady myself.

  The last thing I needed to do was to fantasize about what I was doing. It was a business transaction and nothing else.

  I took a deep breath before walking from the dressing room. As soon as Bella saw me, she clapped her hands and squealed.

  “That is amazing!”

  With a little more dramatic flair, I stepped onto the platform, holding my head high, or as some might suggest, in a regal manner.

  “That’s just beautiful, Genie. Just gorgeous. You must get that one. I insist.” She was sloshing Coke everywhere. I ignored my typical anal-retentive response.

  “You really think so? I don’t look like some swan fleeing from the black swan king?”

  “Stop with the animal analogy. Besides, Jago isn’t some black swan king.”

  “Are you certain about that?”

  She gave me the kind of look only teenagers could pull off. Sarcastic and sweet with a dose of are-you-fucking-stupid disguised as a smile. “I’m not blind nor am I deaf. The way the two of you look at each other screams of passion.”

  “What would you know about passion?”

  “I almost had a boyfriend once. Until Papa found out.”

  “You’re kidding me.”

  “Nope.” My kid sister had learned to pop the ‘p’ just as I’d done at her age. Where had all this come from?

  “What did Papa do?”

  “I didn’t ask, but Sasha didn’t come around again, nor did he try and call. Come to think of it, he switched schools too.”

  “Ouch.” I grabbed my champagne, lifting the flute as a toast to myself. I did look damn hot in the dress if I had to say so.

  “I’ll say. You’re different. You get to choose. I think you’re already falling in love with Jago.”

  I couldn’t have spat the champagne out any faster. Thank God I didn’t get any on the dress. With Ms. Vulture standing only a few feet away glaring at me as if I’d come close to ruining the dress, I needed to watch my p’s and q’s.

  Without popping the p.

  “I am not falling in love with him. He’s reprehensible. He’s arrogant. He slurps when he eats soup. He wears clothes like he’s watched one too many episodes of Miami Vice. He’s pigheaded and refuses to listen to reason. He has an annoying habit of just coming into a room without being told it’s acceptable. What’s to like about him, let alone love?”

  “Miami Vice?”

  “Oh, come on. You’re not so young you haven’t seen reruns of the eighties American cop drama.”

  She stared at me.

  “Two good-looking cops in Miami? They were sizzling at work and under… Well, when not working?”

  Bella shook her head. I needed to remind myself that my life had been about studying, a part-time job so I could consider myself on my own, and old television shows. That hadn’t been her life. Although I had to admit I had no idea what her life had been like.

  “No clue, but it’s settled. You like him. A lot. More than a lot.” She pulled away when I tried to smack her when we both heard her stomach growling.

  We lifted our heads at the same time, both holding in our laughter for a few seconds, but unable to do it any longer.

  “I think it’s time for lunch.” I turned toward the puckish vulture. “I’ll take this one.”

  I had the dress. I had the shoes, although I’d be wearing my boots underneath just in case I decided to become a runaway bride. I had my own jewelry, thank you very much, which would remind me that I still had my independence. Flowers had been ordered. The chef told to make the perfect cake with frilly little roses.

  Everything was perfect. Just freaking perfect.

  If only I had the right groom.

  CHAPTER 23

  Genevieve

  “Burgers. Yum,” Bella said.

  At least I was awarded with a smile that didn’t appear as if her face was going to crack. “I’ll get changed.”

  My sweet sister rubbed her stomach and nodded enthusiastically.

  “Wait. I have one question. Am I going to be your maid of honor?”

  Frowning, I wasn’t certain how to answer her question. If I told her I wanted no such thing because it would make the marriage seem real, that wouldn’t be fair to her. Besides, she needed something to look forward to. “Absolutely, baby girl.”

  “Then I’ll need a dress.”

  I laughed. “More clothes. I’m certain we can make that happen.” I walked away, hating myself for grieving about my own upcoming wedding. There were more horrible men I could be getting married to.

  Just before I closed the curtain into the dressing room, I had a strange feeling of being watched. I stood in the doorway, just able to make out the front window from where I was standing. I don’t know what I’d expected to see since the three huge black hearse-like SUVs were in the way. But I craned my neck anyway, unable to see anything.

  But I felt something. Not like I did when Jago was around, but a dread pooling in the pit of my stomach that I couldn’t ignore. I scanned the store, barely noticing Bella had grabbed a handful of cookies.

  I had to stop feeling like I was being stalked or worse. Living life that way wasn’t good for anyone.

  After sliding into my jeans and sweater, I grimaced at the woman staring back at me. She had dark circles under her eyes. Time had no meaning any longer, days turning into nights and I wasn’t positive how long it had been since my father’s murder.

  The men had been actively searching for scraps of information, scouring the streets for rats as they called them. Other than when Antonio and Emiliano had provided me with any updates, I’d heard nothing from Jago’s men.

  At least I had Emiliano in the security detail for the day. That made me feel more comfortable. I wasn’t certain I liked the men Jago had protecting me. Shaking away the strange feeling, I fluffed my hair and headed out to pay for the dress.

  “Do you mind if I go ahead and leave the store?” Bella asked. She was trying to be nonchalant while staring out the window at one of the soldiers. Then I noticed her pocket was bulging.

  I bit back a laugh and tried to appear serious. “Of course. But you might want to check and see if the cookies are a crumbled mess being inside that tight pocket. I’ll take my time.”

  Bella frowned before blowing me a kiss. “You’re the best.” She scampered toward the entrance and I wondered what it would be like to feel the similar glow of attraction.

  Ugh. Yes, I was attracted to Jago, but that shouldn’t influence any decision I made.

  “How was everything today?” the clerk asked.

  “Perfect. Thank you for your time.”

  “That will be fifteen thousand six hundred ninety-two.”

  “Dollars?” I snapped. Holy fuck. I hadn’t looked at the price tag. While the dress was beautiful, it wasn’t that beautiful.

  “Euro.” Her face pinched.

  I reminded myself what I’d told Jago about him paying for an expensive wedding and that I had his credit card upon his assistance. That had come with the two minutes of conversation where he’d told me point blank how today was going to go.

  Yep. That long discussion with the man was definitely needed.

  “Fine. That’s just fine.” I reached for my purse and almost panicked. Where the hell was it? The dressing room.

  Shit. I’ll be right back. I bounded back toward the dressing rooms, surprised I’d pulled the curtain leading into the main room when I’d walked out. I threw it aside and headed to the one where the dresses I’d tried on were still hanging. Reaching down, I was about to grab my purse from where I’d left it when something caught my attention. A slight sound?

  Then the creepy-crawlies returned. I stood and slowly turned my head, catching both my reflection and that of a man standing less than two feet away from me. In his hand was a weapon and he wore a smile on his face.

  I debated my options as the man grinned at me. I was keenly observant and noticed his fingers were covered in ink, the symbols nothing I recognized, but they appeared to be Arabic. Moroccan. Oh, shit. What should I do? With the traffic noise, I seriously doubted the soldiers would hear my cries.

  Think. Think.

  “Excuse me. This is the ladies’ dressing room,” I said, hoping to buy some time.

  His eyes twinkled.

  “I’m afraid there’s been a change in your plans. However, you do look astonishing in white. Perhaps that’s the color you’ll be in when we sell you to the highest bidder. You’re coming with me.”

  “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

  He made the mistake of reaching for me and I knew this was my only chance of getting away. I grabbed the arm holding the weapon as I kicked him right in the groin. When he doubled over in pain, I shoved him with everything I had, managing to knock him into a rack of clothes awaiting to be put in their right place.

  He went tumbling to the floor, his massive body tangled in dresses.

  I bolted from the room, but before I made it two feet, he grabbed my arm, whirling me around and striking me in the face.

  A shriek left my mouth as anguish slammed into my head, my eyes instantly fuzzy, but I refused to be captured. With another hard kick, I managed to yank my arm away, taking off running toward the front of the store. I jerked at the temporary hangers, knocking one then another down in front of him.

  The clerk screamed, but I didn’t take time to see if she was okay, making it to the door and rushing outside.

  Emiliano reacted first, lunging toward me. “Take her. Get her to safety.”

  “Bella!” I yelled in return as I looked over my shoulder. “There’s a man with a gun inside. Moroccan, I think. He wanted…” I couldn’t finish my sentence.

  “Stay here,” he told me, knowing that if I’d had my weapon with me, I’d want to storm back into the store.

  Two of the soldiers almost body slammed me as they rushed to get me into the back of one SUV. As soon as I was safely inside, I slammed my hands on the passenger glass, peering at the window. I expected to hear gunfire, but Emiliano appeared less than two minutes later, shaking his head.

  He jumped inside. “Get us out of here. Now. Now.”

  Bella was still gasping for air, but from what I could tell, she seemed fine. I turned toward her. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes. I’m fine. What happened? What’s going on?”

  Emiliano turned enough so he could see my face. “Do you have any idea who it was?’

  “I’ve never seen him before, but he was Arabic. His skin was bronzed, but his English was fluent.”

  “Are you certain he was Arabic?”

  “Yes. Symbols on his fingers. Where did he go and how did he get inside?”

  “Through the back door.”

  “It was locked. You had it checked,” I reminded him as the driver glanced into the rearview mirror.

  “Yes, I did.” His emphasis on the ‘I’ meant he was taking blame for the incident happening and for not keeping a watch on the rear door. That wouldn’t go over well with Jago. “You’re hurt.”

  I touched my face and moved my jaw. I had no doubt I’d eventually have an ugly bruise. “Nothing I can’t handle. Let’s get back to the great castle in the sky.”

  I was furious. I was shaking. I was concerned about Bella.

  But I wasn’t in the mood to hear any shit from Jago.

  CHAPTER 24

  Jago

  The atmosphere was tense, the men shuffling from foot to foot.

  “What the goddamn fuck?” I bellowed as soon as I heard the recounting of what had occurred. I’d built a goddamn fortress and I hadn’t been able to protect her.

  There were crates of AKMs and handguns located all through the house and grounds in strategic locations. I had enough C-4 explosives to light up every corner of Barcelona. There were knives from every part of the world used for specific reasons all kept sharp.

  Yet I hadn’t managed to keep her safe.

  What the fuck was wrong with me and my men?

  Someone had made a mistake.

  That someone would face penance.

  I rounded my desk, staring from one man to the other until Genevieve came into the room. As soon as I noticed the ugly mark on her face, my anger flew off the charts. I moved toward her, taking her into my arms.

  She pushed away as was to be expected, giving me a pained but haughty look. I could tell by the haunted appearance in her eyes that the near kidnapping had unnerved her. It should have.

  “What happened?” I demanded. This had to be about Fassi. I was positive of it.

  I’d heard the story twice, which prompted the men to nervously glance back and forth at one another.

  “Talk!”

  “We got too comfortable,” Benito stated, talking for the rest of them.

  “That’s fucking obvious!” I never lost my temper, at least not like this, but I was more enraged than I’d ever been. I raked my hand through my hair, pacing a short distance on the tile floor as I flexed the fingers on my other hand.

  “Why don’t you allow me to tell the story?” Genevieve suggested sarcastically.

  “Fine. Fine,” I hissed through gritted teeth.

  “A soldier broke in through the back and held a gun at me. He had every intention of taking me with him,” Genevieve said stoically.

  “You’re sure about that?”

  “Yes, I’m certain. He mentioned selling me in my pretty white dress to the highest bidder.” She turned her head toward me. Her arms were folded and her breathing labored.

  I slammed my fist on my desk, cursing in Spanish. “You weren’t watching the goddamn back door?”

  Another look shared between the men.

  “Fucking talk or I’ll put a bullet into every one of your heads. Do you hear me?”

  “Calm the fuck down, Jago,” Genevieve said. While there was more anger in her voice, she kept it even, something I obviously couldn’t do. “I’m fine.”

  “You’re not fine. You’re marked.” The bruise remained from the incident before. Now there was another one.

  She touched her face and winced. “Does that mean I’d sullied now? Not good enough to marry? Not good enough to parade around as your wife and business partner?”

  “Of course that’s not what I mean.” She was exasperating. I felt like a powder keg ready to explode. Genevieve certainly wasn’t helping the situation with her challenging attitude.

  “That’s what it sounded like.”

  “It’s my fault, Lord Torres.” It took me a few seconds to realize her closest bodyguard and friend had offered the admittance.