Page 100 of His To Erase

“If you weren’t the one sending me messages, who was?” I ask, crossing my arms.

He exhales through his nose. “I had it looked into. But we’ll talk about it later.”

My arms tighten around my chest. “That’s not ominous or anything.”

“Not now, Ani.”

The words should piss me off more than they do, but he chuckles under his breath, as he sits down, pulling me once again into his lap. “You want to talk now, or are you tired?”

I don’t answer right away. I just go still against him, because I can feel it—that weight we’ve both been carrying since the second we stepped off the tarmac. Do I want to talk, no. Should we, probably.

I shift back slightly so I can see him. His arm tightens instinctively around my waist, like letting me move too far is a risk he’s not willing to take.

His eyes flick down to mine, jaw flexing because he knows that I’m not going to let it go. “I had Travis run it.”

“Who’s Travis?”

He ignores my question and keeps talking. “I didn’t want to drop it on you until I was sure.”

“Well?” I blink. “Are you sure now?”

He looks at me with that look—that unreadable, too-calm stillness that usually comes right before someone bleeds.

“We’ll get into it tomorrow,” he mutters. “After you sleep and after I figure out how the fuck to say it all without making you hate me.”

My chest tightens. “Is it really that bad?”

“Not everything,” he says. “Some of it you deserve to know. Some of it you need to know. But yeah, parts of it are not going to be pleasant.” His hand comes up, thumb dragging across the inside of my wrist. “You asked me once if I was the kind of man who lies.”

“I remember.”

“I don’t lie. But I also didn’t tell you everything.”

“That’s not exactly comforting…or a secret.”

“I know.”

Silence stretches out between us, thick and full of everything that’s happened. I mean, could this man break my heart into a thousand pieces? Absolutely. But he makes me feel safe. A little frightened at times, sure, but I’ve never felt safer.

I know I should let it sit and give myself a second to process whatever the hell he means by “some of it is bad.” But I can’t. I’d rather just get it all out now.

“No,” I say. “We’re not doing this tomorrow.”

His eyes darken and his arm tightens around my waist again. “Ani—”

“I’m fine.” It comes out tighter than I expected. “I’m not dead.”

His mouth opens, then closes again. His hand stills on my back. And for once, I don’t fill the silence with a sarcastic jab or some emotionally-deflective punchline. I just sit there.

He exhales like I just knocked the wind out of him. “When I thought I lost you…” His voice cracks—just enough to break me. “Everything in me fractured.”

My chest caves a little more.

“You don’t get to say that and then make me wait till tomorrow,” I whisper. “Talk.”

He hesitates. Brushing his thumb along my arm like he’s trying to ground both of us. “Frank planned to sell you the second you signed those papers, honey. You’re the key to unlocking your grandfather's entire empire.”

I go still. “…What?”

“You heard me.”

There he goes, holding my entire world by the throat with three words and no apology.

“…My grandfathers what?”

His eyes don’t move. “I’m not sugarcoating it for you, pretty girl. You’re too damn strong for that, and we both know it. So I’m going to say it straight, and you’re going to take it—because you can and you’ve already survived worse. Then we’ll figure out the rest. Together.”

He leans in close to my ear and his voice drops to something darker. “Maybe—if you’re a good girl—I’ll let you come. On my fingers first, then my tongue, and if you’re still breathing after that… I’ll fuck you so hard you forget your own name. Once your body’s had a chance to recover, that is.”

I like how he negotiates.

Heat floods my body, settling between my legs. My thighs clench together, desperate and aching, because I’m suddenly too fucking aware of where his hand sits on my waist.

There’s tension crackling between us that’s so goddamn thick I can taste it. And all I can think about is how this man just handed me my entire legacy like it was nothing—while gripping me like he plans to fuck the sanity right out of my body with the other hand.

And God help me, I want him to.

I swallow once and lean in close enough that my mouth nearly brushes his ear.

“Then talk,” I whisper, then shift on his lap just to feel the thick length of him already hard beneath me. “Or do you want me to beg for it first, sir?”

He glances at me again, eyes a shade darker than before.

“Your grandfather—Emilio Rivera—wasn’t just a rich old man with property in Puerto Rico.

He was one of the last remaining heads of a multi-generational crime network.

Drugs. Weapons. Shipping ports. Offshore accounts.

Government ties. The Rivera family is one of the oldest organized crime syndicates on the island. ”

My lungs seize and I stop breathing entirely.

“When he died,” he says, quieter now. “The entire network went into lockdown. No one could touch the money or the land, and the people loyal to him refused to move. Not without blood.”

And suddenly I’m five again. Sitting in the hallway while my parents whispered about Puerto Rico in Spanish, always looking over their shoulders. I used to think it was about pride. Or grief. Or some irreparable rift that families just bury instead of fix.

But this? This can’t be real.

He watches me fall apart in silence.

“You’re his heir, Ani. His only heir. The will—his whole legacy—it’s tied to your blood. Frank found out. And he wanted it.”

There’s no way he’s saying what I think he’s saying.

I shake my head. “Why not just take it? I didn't know any of this. He could’ve just taken it and I never would’ve known any different.”

“Because he couldn’t,” Steven says, choosing each word carefully.

“Rivera’s estate isn’t like a normal inheritance.

It wasn’t just money or property. Everything your grandfather built—the land, the offshore accounts, the people loyal to him—was locked behind legal bullshit and bloodline clauses.

Nothing could be transferred or touched unless it went to a direct descendant. ”

He pauses, watching my face like he’s waiting for the pieces to snap together.

“He needed to be bound to you by marriage,” he says. “Your signature was the last piece. You’re the only one the Rivera estate would legally recognize.”

My stomach twists. “So…”

Steven nods, clenching his jaw. “You were the key. The second your name hit that paper, Frank would’ve had access to everything. That’s why he didn’t just kill you. He had to own you. None of your men would listen to him without it.”

My men? And that’s when it sinks in. Holy fuck.

“I can’t believe that fucker bought me.”

Steven flinches. “Yeah. Your ex sold you out, and Frank paid him off. And when you ran… he sent people after you. Then planted himself into your life to get you back.”

I press my hand to my stomach to keep from throwing up. I guess that explains why he was trying so hard to win me over. Funny how it never worked. Not really. There was always something off about him. I used to think it was because I didn’t want to date, turns out, it was just him.

Steven shifts. “I didn’t know. Not at first. I promise.”

“But you knew something.” I look up. “Didn’t you?”

He nods once. “I thought you were with Frank, and I thought you were part of it. Until I didn’t.”

“You were going to kill him.”

It’s not a question, because after everything I’ve learned, Frank’s days were already numbered.

His jaw ticks. “I was. That was the job. But then I saw you. And everything changed.”

I look away, blinking hard, hoping it’ll stop whatever the hell is building behind my eyes.

I can feel myself getting wetter. Especially since Steven’s hand is now on my thigh, and he’s dragging his thumb in slow, lazy circles against my skin—each pass higher than the last. It’s distracting in the worst possible way.

My brain’s trying to process bloodlines and betrayal, and my body’s over here dripping like it got the wrong memo.

“You could’ve told me.” I say, a little breathlessly.

“And you would’ve done what exactly? I didn’t exactly know how and once I started falling for you…” He swallows. “The truth got harder to give.”

I lean back trying to see his face, but his thumb is dangerously close to where I now desperately wish it was. “And the texts?”

“I told you I had Travis look into it,” he says, while he’s trying to distract me with his fingers.

And it’s working. His thumb is now dragging slow, lazy circles over my clit, and he has zero plans to stop.

I try not to squirm, but it’s hard to focus when every nerve in my body is leaning toward his hand.

“He hasn’t gotten back to me yet,” Steven mutters, like it's just a minor inconvenience. “We’ve both been a little… busy.”

He’s not wrong there. I don’t even want to think about what would’ve happened if he didn’t make it. That thought’s been stuck on repeat. “And your guess?”

He leans in and his mouth brushes my ear. A shiver goes down my spine and straight to my core. He starts rubbing circles again, making it really hard to concentrate.

“My guess is, it has to be Frank. The timing lines up too clean. Whoever it was wasn’t just trying to scare you—they were watching. Tracking your moves. They always showed up right before something went down.”

My blood goes hot, but my skin goes ice cold. “And you didn’t lead with that?”

His hand doesn’t stop moving. If anything, it gets slower. Crueler. “I didn’t want to dump more on you when you were already barely breathing.”

I stare at him, long and hard and when I finally speak, my voice is quieter than I mean it to be. “And now?”

His thumb slows, deciding how much he wants to torture me, no doubt.

All I can see is heat in his eyes as he exhales, sliding his hand away with a slow, deliberate drag that leaves me aching.

His arm slips around my waist and pulls me closer and I can feel how hard he is.

Suddenly I can’t think of any more questions.

“Come on,” he murmurs against my hair. “You’re hurt. Running on fumes. And you can barely stand.”

I hum into his chest, eyes fluttering. “Not true. I can definitely stand… just maybe not on my own.”

“Exactly my point.”

His hand slides down my spine as he leans back slightly, fingers tilting my chin until I’m looking at him. “We’ll get you cleaned up, then you’ll rest.”

I blink up at him, caught somewhere between exhaustion and rebellion. And okay, maybe I want him to take control again.

So, I slide my palms up his chest, leaning in until my lips graze his. I whisper against the corner of his mouth—“Steven, if you don’t get in that shower and fuck the trauma out of me, I swear to God I’ll do it myself with your toothbrush.”

His jaw locks, and I’ll bet my life he’s deciding whether to punish me or make me beg for it. That vein in his neck—the one I swear is wired to whatever control he has left, throbs like a promise.

“Ani—”

“Your toothbrush, Steven,” I whisper against his jaw, lips barely brushing skin. “Soft bristles. No lube. Your call.”

The sound he makes isn’t human. Holy fuck, how did I get this lucky?

A growl rips straight from his chest like I just snapped the last thread of his control and I’m in his arms before I can blink. He turns toward the bathroom like a man on a mission.

“You’re fucking insane,” he mutters, laughing.

I bite his neck hard enough to make him grunt. “Keep talking shit and I’ll come before we hit the tile.”

He smiles. “Careful, dear. You forget who you’re mouthing off to.”