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“Antonio. We’re taking her to my compound.”

“The glass menagerie? We’ll be sitting ducks,” he snorted.

I curtailed my aggravation with the man. “Not there. I own several pieces of property. I assure you the location will be more than acceptable.”

“Only if she agrees. It’s her call. Not yours.”

I nodded while assessing him. The man could be an issue, but at this point, creating an internal war wasn’t on my agenda. “I’m glad she can count on you. She will see things my way.”

“You don’t know her very well. I’ll have a conversation with her, but I can’t promise anything.”

I walked closer and the man didn’t flinch. Good for him. “Let me put it to you this way. If you think these are the only enemy soldiers determined to bring down your drug lord, you’re wrong. They will stop at nothing until she and every man in her employ are eradicated. I’m the only person you can trust.”

His eyes became hooded. “Trust is earned, Mr. Torres, and Madame Morales has no time or patience for either stupidity or insufferable idiots. As I said, I will talk to her.”

Trust.

The soldier should know better than anyone that trust was a luxury afforded by pompous assholes who believed their shit didn’t stink. Contrary to the barbs Genevieve had tossed in my direction, I was neither arrogant nor suffering from lack of awareness. While achieving Genevieve’s trust would help negotiate a more peaceful marriage, I couldn’t count on her acceptance of my offer.

I’d seen the myriad expressions on her face, the shift from hatred and disgust to the same longing we’d both felt. I’d almostheard her soft voice whispering that she wanted nothing to do with a monster, fearful I might break her. Well, she was right about that.

Her soldier walked off and while a tremendous part of me wanted to cut the man to ribbons, it highlighted how powerful she’d become in a short timeframe.

It would seem I’d seriously underestimated her abilities.

At least I knew it was time to make good use of them.

As of now, Genevieve Morales had become my property.

CHAPTER 19

Genevieve

I’d killed someone.

I hadn’t given it a single thought before driving the knife into the man’s neck. Or had it been his eye? Or his heart? I wasn’t entirely certain. I’d reacted. I’d been terrified. I’d screamed and kicked, fearful Bella would be hurt.

The horrible man had tackled me to the floor, wrapping his hand around my throat. With every labored breath I’d taken, I’d seen images of my family and my friends, graduations and birthday parties. I’d almost given up, but something inside refused to allow me to die without fighting with everything I had.

So I’d pulled out the knife and I’d killed him.

Was I remorseful?

Maybe the answer was worse than the act.

No.

At least I was still horrified.

“The bastard wants to take you to his house,” Antonio said the moment he’d appeared in the room.

I lifted my head, suffocating from the fear that had yet to fade. Marco immediately turned his head toward me. He stood by the window, staring out at the body-strewn lawn. I’d seen them. I’d stood and stared out the window exactly as he was doing now, trying to make sense of what had occurred. Everything about the past week had seemed surreal, as if living in a strangled nightmare.

Every muscle in my body ached, the brutal punch to my face I’d taken hurting like a son of a bitch. Bella sat at the end of her bed, staring down at the floor. She wasn’t talking, wasn’t sharing her feelings or her fear. I prayed the catatonic state was because of shock that would eventually wear off.

“Not enough security,” I managed.

“He assures me he has other real estate.”