With This Ring: To Have and To Hold Duet Book One Read online

  “Why?”

  He drags his gaze from the dress. “Because it belonged to Melinda. He shouldn’t have given you one of her dresses.”

  Melinda. Cristiano’s mom.

  Just then Joanna returns into the living room. “The women from the salon are ready, sir.”

  He doesn’t take his eyes off me. “The dress. Now.”

  I reach back to undo the zipper, just wanting to get out of here now, knowing he’s not going to let me walk out of this room without giving it to him this second. He releases me when I pull it off. At least he doesn’t look at me with leering eyes as I hold it out to him. Using my other arm to cover my breasts, I’m grateful Cristiano bought me both bra and panties on our shopping spree.

  If Joanna thinks it’s at all strange, she doesn’t let on. David takes the dress and looks at me once more. I’m grateful it’s only contempt I see in his eyes.

  “Don’t leave your room until I come for you, am I clear?” he asks, tone scratchy, hateful.

  “Crystal.”

  “Joanna,” he barks.

  “This way, Miss.”

  Keeping one arm strapped over my breasts, I follow her up the stairs and to my room where women are setting up what looks to be a mobile salon. Joanna holds out a robe for me as soon as we’re inside.

  “Here you go,” she says.

  I take it. It takes me a minute to thank her because I’m not expecting this kindness. How long has it’s been since I’ve expected anything resembling kindness?

  She nods, not quite meeting my eyes but the look on her face tells me she’s embarrassed at having witnessed that.

  I pull the robe on, sitting where the women tell me to sit and just tuning everything out. I try to make myself go numb, which is getting harder and harder to do because all I can think is that Cristiano is the closest thing to an ally that I have right now. I need him, need his protection. Because I know he’s all that’s standing between me and a grave.

  But it’s more than that.

  And it would be less complicated if it weren’t.

  19

  Cristiano

  “He’ll be pissed but I don’t care. I want men riding with my uncle and Scarlett. How many are on property?”

  “Thirteen, sir. I’m seeing if I can get some on the roof without raising eyebrows,” Antonio says. “Don’t worry, we’ve got it covered. If it becomes more than a threat, we’ll take care of it.”

  “And get her out. Understand?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  I disconnect the call and dial my uncle. I’m on my way to the event location but am later than I hoped. I had two things to do when I left Scarlett after lunch. First, pick up the rings. Wedding bands. Simple. That’s what I should have stuck to, at least.

  But for some fucking reason and by some stupidity, I’d brought my mother’s engagement ring with me and had it resized for her.

  I touch my pocket now, feel the velvet box and I’m not sure what the fuck is wrong with me when it comes to this woman. Why the fuck am I giving her this particular engagement ring when what she’ll want to do is use the stones to carve out my eyes as soon as she hears what will be expected of her.

  “Cristiano,” my uncle says, picking up on the fourth ring. “We didn’t need the goddamned detail. I have my own security.”

  “I’m not taking any chances. She’s with you?”

  A pause. “Yes.”

  “Can she hear us?”

  “Of course not. What’s going on?”

  “Something’s going down tonight.”

  “I haven’t heard anything from my sources.”

  “Where’s Alec?”

  “Riding with my men.”

  “I told him not to leave her side.”

  “It gets a little cramped in the limo.”

  “Fine. Don’t mention anything to her. I don’t want her worried.”

  “I wouldn’t. Where did you go anyway?”

  “Picking up a ring,” I leave the rest out.

  “All afternoon? Aren’t you the romantic?”

  “I’ll see you in a few minutes.” I disconnect the call and tuck it into my pocket, thinking about my second task this afternoon which was dropping by Charlie’s to give him those names.

  I’ve been giving him the names I write in my ledger. The ones that just didn’t feel right to me. I told him the first time I brought them to him to dig up as much dirt as he could. Maybe it’s a way of alleviating my conscience. If I know they’re bad people, it will make what I did a little more okay. Without concrete evidence of their involvement in my family’s murders, things just don’t sit right sometimes.

  And I know my uncle won’t always have concrete evidence.

  I won’t tell him about giving Charlie the names for a couple of reasons. First, Charlie and my uncle do not like each other. They’re civil when they need to be, but something happened between them years ago, must be fifteen years now, and neither of them has moved on from it.

  Second, I know my uncle would find it weak that I need to do this. That I need to clear my conscience.

  The driver pulls through the gates of the mansion where the party is being hosted. It’s a private home and I can’t march in with a detail of security guards without raising the alarm that I’m back in business. The Grigori Mafia restored; all nefarious activities resumed. That wouldn’t look good for the charity.

  The moment I step out of the vehicle the two women from the charity appear to accompany me inside. I smile and go along, not hiding the fact that I’m checking my watch.

  The first person I see when I step inside is Jacob De La Cruz. It turns my already dark mood black.

  “Excuse me,” I tell the ladies and unlink my arms.

  Jacob smiles, turning to say something to the bartender, so just when I reach him, a whiskey is set on the counter for me.

  “I had your preferred brand stocked,” he says.

  “What are you doing here?” I take the whiskey, thank the bartender. Not this asshole.

  “Since I’m leaving the business, I thought it would be good to rub elbows with this…um…better class of people.”

  I swallow some of the whiskey. “There is no better class of people, Jacob. I thought you’d know that by now.”

  “Where’s my niece?”

  The way he calls her my niece bugs me. Why not just call her Scarlett?

  “On her way.”

  “Did you tell her the good news yet?”

  I open my mouth to answer when his gaze shifts to the door. I swear the air around me shifts and sparks like it’s electric. Alive and humming.

  She’s here. I feel it.

  But something in Jacob’s expression has caught my attention. His jaw is tight, body stiffening. There’s something not right about the way he’s looking at her. At his fucking niece.

  I blink, turn my head and the instant I see her from across the huge room, my breath catches.

  Every man in the place has stopped to look at her and I want to punch every single one of them. I can’t blame them, however, can I? She’s fucking beautiful.

  Scarlett is standing just inside the entrance, my uncle at her side. She’s looking around the room, lips slightly parted wearing a gown the color of her name. Silk hugs her curves, breasts lifted, nipples poking against the fabric, the slit that splits the dress exposing a toned, slender thigh. It’s just this side of modest.

  I’d send the boutique owner a bonus if I hadn’t already seen the charge on my card.

  She finally spots me, the dark, smoky liner making her eyes a soft gold. Like sand. The color of the beach on the island when the summer sun hits it.

  Her lips are painted to match the dress and her hair is piled on top of her head. I know every man in here has a hard-on for her and every woman wants to be her.

  That or kill her.

  They’d have to get in line. My Little Kitten has more enemies than she knows.

  My phone buzzes in my breast pocket. My uncle puts his han
d on her elbow and she abruptly tugs it away. I’m glad. I don’t want him touching her.

  “Beautiful, isn’t she?” Jacob asks beside me.

  I turn to find him studying me with a smirk on his face, looking more relaxed than I’ve probably ever seen him.

  “Shame what her brothers did to her.”

  He’s baiting me. I know it. But I bite. “What do you mean?”

  “Oh,” he says, trying too hard for casual as he gives a shake of his head. “Nothing.”

  “What do you mean, Jacob. You clearly want to tell me something.”

  He smiles. It’s not a kind smile. “Making a whore out of her like they did.” When his eyes fall on Scarlett again, there’s a leering look inside them. It makes my skin crawl. I’m about to grab this asshole and shake him, smash his face into the bar. Maybe stab his perverted eyes out with an ice pick.

  But I need to keep calm.

  “What do you mean?” I ask again, swallowing some whiskey to occupy my mouth before I give anything away.

  “Rinaldi wanted a taste. They were smart though. I have to give them that.” He turns to the man behind the bar. “Bartender. Another for me and my friend.”

  I can’t help myself. I grab hold of his collar because in my periphery I see my uncle leading her toward us and I want to know what the fuck this son-of-a-bitch is talking about.

  “Spit it out, Jacob. What the fuck are you trying to tell me?”

  He looks down at my hand and it takes me a minute, but I release him.

  “Rinaldi wanted Scarlett from the beginning. Had a thing for her. The brothers thought if he fucked her, he wouldn’t marry her. But without the marriage, their position would be weakened. Having a look, however, well, that seemed to satisfy his lust. Building anticipation until the wedding night I guess.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  He turns to look at her, expression hardening. “Let’s just say that pig knows every inch of her.” He returns his gaze to me. “It was good for her pride, though. As you probably know, she’s prideful, my niece. The night her brothers sold her virginity in exchange for the marriage of the two families brought her down a notch. Several.”

  Rage beats against my ears, my chest, my fingernails digging into my palms.

  “How do you know this?” I ask through gritted teeth.

  “Oh, I was there. And really, that was all assuming she was a virgin at all. I was around when she was growing up. I remember how she pranced around in her tight little shorts when she was just a girl.”

  What the fuck is this asshole saying?

  “Always putting on a show for any man who walked by.”

  He turns to me, must see the rage building inside me because he clears his throat. “I tried to help her, of course.”

  I turn just as Scarlett is within earshot. “I’m sure you tried to help her,” I say under my breath, vowing then to kill this pervert. Not even caring about the cartel and what that would do to my relationship with them. I will kill Jacob De La Cruz.

  I step toward Scarlett and my uncle, blocking Jacob’s view of her, not wanting him to look at her any longer. I can’t stand the thought that even his eyes should fall on her.

  I was twelve when I started fighting. I don’t know any other way to be.

  At least I was an adult.

  “Cristiano.” My uncle nods in greeting and walks past me to the bar. I don’t care.

  “You look beautiful,” I tell her, part of me wanting to put my jacket over her shoulders to hide her from her uncle. From the other ogling men.

  She looks up at me like she has a hundred things to say. Like she wants to curse me to hell and fall into my arms all at once.

  “Why is he here? Why are you talking to him?” she asks, eyes just flashing to Jacob momentarily.

  I put my hand at her lower back, turn her away, walking at an angle to shield her from him.

  “He’s an asshole, Scarlett. I know that. You don’t have to worry about him.”

  “An asshole like your uncle, you mean?”

  Someone interrupts us. The women from the charity again, like fucking gnats, these two. They start talking like we’re not having a private fucking conversation. What the fuck is wrong with people?

  “Excuse us,” I say and walk Scarlett toward a quieter corridor. “What happened with my uncle?”

  “He lost his shit when he saw me in your mom’s dress. I’m not going there again. I don’t care what you say. I’m not.” Her eyes get shiny and although I hear anger in her voice, she’s vulnerable.

  “He loved my mother. I’m sure it was hard for him to see—”

  “Don’t. Just don’t,” she turns like she’s going to walk away but I grab her arm.

  “Scarlett—”

  “I have to use the lady’s room,” she says.

  “How exactly did he lose his shit?” I get the feeling I’m not going to like this part.

  “Let me go.”

  I look down at my hand around her arm. Bruises have already formed there. Did I put them there? Fuck. I loosen my grip, then release her altogether.

  She rubs her arm. “You want to hear what an asshole your uncle is? Fine. He made me strip off the dress. Right there in the hallway. In front of him and one of his soldiers and—”

  “He did what?” My brain rattles in my skull and I swear the fucking room goes sideways.

  My phone begins its vibration again. Jesus fucking Christ.

  I take my eyes off her for a second to quiet it and she slips away, swift to weave through the crowd and disappear around the corner.

  I get as far as two steps after her only to be met by my uncle. “Lose her already?” he asks, half-joking.

  “What did you do to her?”

  “What did she say I did?” he asks, eyebrows to high heaven.

  “The dress.”

  “Ah.” He nods, drinks a big swallow of his whiskey. “I admit that was not my best moment.”

  This throws me. I don’t know what I expected. “You admit it?”’

  “I made her strip it off. I shouldn’t have done that but seeing her in it, it did something to me. Why would you give her one of your mother’s dresses, Cristiano? For fuck’s sake, why hers?”

  Because I wanted to see if I could remember. But I don’t tell him that. “You’ll apologize to her.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me.”

  “Look here—”

  “She’s a human being.”

  “She’s cartel trash. The same blood as those who executed your family.” His expression turns ugly. “Who assaulted your mother.”

  I wipe spittle off my face and take a deep breath in. “How did you know that?”

  “Are you fucking serious right now?”

  “That detail about mom. How did you know?” It’s like fire is coursing through my veins. I want to smash something. Someone.

  Lying on that floor watching it, watching what that bastard did to her, impotent to help the one time she needed me to help her. Fuck, it fucking kills me, that detail. That one fucking detail.

  I rub the back of my neck, agitated. I can’t think about that. Not now. Not here.

  My phone goes off again, but I ignore it.

  “I had it taken out of the official report, you know that. I told you that. I didn’t want her humiliated in death like she was in life,” my uncle says. “Now as far as Scarlett, remember what she is. A means to an end. Family first. We’re not like them, not like the cartels who can execute their own. Don’t let her turn your head. Make you forget even that. She’ll exploit your weaknesses if you let her. You need to fuck her and get her out of your system so you can get your focus back. Get your head out of your ass, Cristiano.”

  “I haven’t lost my focus.”

  “No?”

  “Where’s Dante?” I ask, realizing my brother isn’t here.

  “Something came up in the Milan office. I thought you wouldn’t mind if I asked him to take ca
re of it.” My uncle has offices all over Italy and I know my brother’s been working with him in the years I was incapacitated. He’s grooming Dante to take over his businesses although I’m not sure what Dante wants.

  “No, I don’t mind,” I say because he is safer away from me, away from any ties to the mafia family he came from.

  We’re interrupted then by someone who knows my uncle. I’m amazed at how quickly my uncle dons the mask of ease, a smile that looks so fucking real that it makes me wonder if I imagined what just happened. How he looked. What he said.

  When my phone vibrates in my pocket for the hundredth time, I excuse myself and head in the direction of Scarlett as I answer.

  “What is it?” I ask Antonio.

  “I’ve been trying to get hold of you. We’ve got a problem.”

  20

  Scarlett

  I’m heading toward the lady’s room when I see Jacob leering at me from the opposite corner of the room. He raises his glass to me, the sea of people between us his only protection as far as I’m concerned because Cristiano hasn’t come after me.

  I change direction and head toward him, wishing I had that nail file to stab him in the eye. I know it wouldn’t kill him but I’m good with maiming him for life. For now, at least.

  As I approach, he stops a passing waiter and takes two champagne flutes off his tray. He holds one out to me.

  “There she is,” he says, a smile on his face. This man who just days ago was ready to pull the trigger and kill Noah and me. The man who executed Diego and Angel.

  I want to slap that champagne out of his hands but when I’m close enough, he must see my intent, because he sets both glasses down and squares his shoulders to meet me.

  “You look stunning,” he says, his eyes moving slowly over me, pausing at my breasts. “Your tits are practically on display, though.”

  “You’re disgusting.”

  He shrugs a shoulder. “You have a bad habit of attracting men who’ll do that to a woman. Make a whore of her. What does that say about you, I wonder?”

  I step into his space. I’m only a few inches shorter than him and I make a point of looking him right in the eye. This bastard doesn’t scare me. Not anymore. I wonder when that happened. Maybe the day I became less afraid of dying than I did of living.