Page 42 of Thorns of Blood

He shook his head. “That won’t be possible without starting a war.”

“Then start a war,” I gritted.

He shook his head, almost as if he was disappointed with my demand. “What are your other rules?”

“I want you out of my business. Don’t tell me what to do or how to run it. You do your thing, I’ll do mine.” His eyes flashed with surprise. “And I want free access to my right-hand man.”

One dark brow lifted in surprise, but he couldn’t know that José had been searching for The Mistress. I wouldn’t be able to rest easily until I got my hands on her.

“You must want him dead,” he drawled. “No self-respecting man would allow his woman access to another man.”

“You’re hardly a self-respecting man, and I’m not your woman,” I challenged. “He’s a business associate, and you won’t touch him, because if you do, it will be game over.”

He considered my non-negotiables, leaning back and linking his fingers behind his head, the skin over his abs pulling taut. “And?”

“And if you agree to all that, I’ll do it.” His green eyes flashed victoriously. Something was still nagging at me though… “But let me ask you one last thing: why marry me? Why not just partner with me and keep things professional?”

His gaze turned cool and calculated, something wild and alive playing in his eyes.

“Maybe I’m a hopeless romantic.”

“More like a dreamer,” I said seriously. “It isn’t a good quality to have in our world; you should know that.”

“My apologies. I’ll be sure to quash it.”

Amusement laced his words while I stared at his face, noting that thin scar above his right eye again. I wondered how he got it. Was it delivered in punishment? Or simple child’s play gone awry? My mother never hesitated when it came to discipline. Lord knew she’d left plenty of scars on others too.

My gaze fell to my hand with a missing finger, clutching the blanket.

It was the only scar I couldn’t hide. A self-inflicted wound driven by desperation and wisps of foolish hope that Kingston would get the message and save me. What a fucking idiot I was.

“Fine, you want to know why it needs to be official?” His deep timbre broke me out of my thoughts, and he continued without waiting for a response. “Because you, Liana Volkov, were the key player in the Marabella Agreements. The improvement of the auctions started with you. Your knowledge is vast, which I take it is thanks to your mother, and you fed that information to my uncle and Perez Cortes who executedyourplans.”

I felt the blood drain from my face. How in the fuck did he know that? Santiago would never give credit where it was due. Perez Cortes even less so. Not that it was something I was proud of, but I’d be damned if I justified myself to anyone.

“So?” I shrugged, masking the guilt I still felt.

“So once it comes out, and itwillcome out, the whole underworld will be after you, if it isn’t already. You will need someone on your side who has the cartel and the Omertà behind them. You needme.”

I cocked my eyebrow while my stomach lurched, threatening to expel everything I’d eaten in the last twenty-four hours.

“I could go to Kingston and Louisa.” After all, they owed me one.

He stood suddenly, looming over me like a thunderous cloud, his dark voice pressing against my ear. “You expect me to believe you’d put them in that position? Let them face the fury of countless, gutless criminals, let them face the possibility of certaindeath, just to keep yourself protected?”

“Yes.” My voice came out stronger than I felt, but I’d be damned if I let him think I had any decency left.

“And their child?”

I froze, shifting to meet his dark gaze. “Child?”

He nodded. “Yes, a child who was a victim of the Marabella Agreement.”

Raw emotions assaulted me, hurting worse than anything I’d ever experienced before, and I realized it was futile to try to run from the guilt anymore. I knew I shouldn’t feel remorse for doing what I had to do in order to survive and keep Amara alive, but I wastiredof it all.

I realized my sins were now an eternal stain that could never be washed. Bringing Amara back into my life would mean transferring those sins to her, and the reality of that hit me so hard I nearly fainted.

I was truly alone. Bitterness would become the only thing that sustained my miserable life. I’d be hated, just like my mother was. She lost her firstborn, and that anger consumed her, shaping her into the fearful Sofia Volkov we came to know.