Page 11 of Corrupt
“Why so possessive?”
There’s a tumultuous storm brewing within, a thick cord that snaps and I pull my gun out, finger on the trigger before rationalizing my actions. “Now isn’t the time to test me.”
His hands go up and his face loses all trace of humor. “Parce, this is—”
“Who. Is. She?”
“My gift.”
“Gift?”
“Yes.” He swallows hard, eyes on my finger over the trigger. The same one that’s twitching. “That’s Solimar Quintero, my friend. The president’s daughter.”
4
I’M AN IDIOT.
Crazy.
A dead woman if my father finds out I let my cousin drag me out to Codicia tonight, and more so without my guards. But then again, that’s the least of my worries. I’m terrified of him, of his reaction if he knew that Laura is sleeping—in love—with Signio Cortez when the arrangement for my hand has already been made.
I don’t love him. She does.
I don’t even like him. She’s completely smitten with the jerk.
My heart breaks for her, but the decision was taken out of my hands a few minutes after the strike of midnight on my twentieth birthday by his father and mine. It’s a political move between the two countries. The creation of a stronger alliance by two overbearing and archaic-thinking presidents.
Because of their greed, I’ve become a pawn in a game I never wanted to play.
Unfortunately for Laura, she’d been chasing him for over a year at that point with nothing more than the title of friends with benefits safely within her grasp. No one knew this. No one suspected. And while Laura pines and he sleeps around, I’m caught in the middle of this unwanted love triangle after her confession with tears in her eyes.
I’m damned no matter which way I turn.
I’m left forcing a smile and praying my disgust doesn’t show.
I’m left imagining another face every night that is forbidden to me.
“Thank God we’re not married yet,” I mutter under my breath for the ninth time as our group—a few women I barely know and her one childhood friend I can’t stand—are ushered toward a VIP table near the very back of the rooftop terrace. The other section is already occupied, but I know better than to look. To be nosy or worse, get caught by the kind of clientele Sergio caters to.
It’s not a secret. The pompous jerk doesn’t hide it. My father’s given him immunity, and he’s using it to his full advantage.
However, the closer we get, the more I’m tempted to.
There’s a pulsing energy that grips me.
A near overwhelming presence that makes my skin hyperaware. Sensitive. And I find myself near floating and not understanding the why.
Each step I take feels as though I am being pulled closer by an invisible tether, a connection that’s making my pulse race and knees feel weak. What’s wrong with me? What was in that shot I had back at Laura’s?
“Hurry up, Solimar,” my cousin calls out and my head snaps up; I’ve frozen in place a good ten steps from them. “My Signio saved us the best seat in the house, and it’s an open-bar night for our group. He’s the best!”
My Signio isn’t meant to be a personal jab at me, but to others, it comes across that way, and the few snickers that follow are proof of that.
She doesn’t think.
She’s too impulsive.
She forgets that our engagement has already been announced and the media is counting down the days to my demise. That if her secret gets out, my father’s wrath will destroy us both.