Page 4 of LA King

Her dark hair hung loose over her shoulders, and she brushed a thick curl from her eyes as she squinted in the midday sun. Far more beautiful than her pictures had shown her to be. Not the kind of beauty you see in magazines, but the kind that brings devils to their knees. Devils like me?

Her father joined her then, and she linked her arm through his, gazing up at him adoringly. Daddy’s little princess, indeed.

She turned and walked toward the door of the small chapel, facing away from the small side room I watched from. Even in this memory, I try not to let my eyes wander to her ass, but I’m only a man. My cock twitches in my suit pants at the recollection of her curves swaying in the figure-hugging silk.

When my father told me it was time to leave, I remained there at the window a moment longer, staring at her.

But it wasn’t her beauty or her incredible ass that kept me staring. It was the look on her face when she’d stepped out of the car. It wasn’t arrogance, or nerves, or happiness, or any of the emotions I’d expected to see.

No, it was defiance. Pure and simple. And all I can think about now is how spectacular it will be when I eventually break her.

Chapter

Three

Alana

Iwander around the vast house, wondering how the hell I’ll ever learn to treat this place like a home. It’s certainly beautiful—there’s no doubt about that. Outside boasts beautifully manicured sprawling gardens full of brightly colored flowers with a huge pool at its center. The interior is just as spectacular, tastefully decorated in a palette of cream, gray, and gold. My wanderings take me in and out of every room on the ground floor, including the gym and the biggest kitchen I’ve ever seen in my life. I make my way up the sweeping marble staircase that dominates the entrance hallway and explore the upstairs—seven bedrooms and as many bathrooms. It’s obscene for one man to have all this to himself.

But the thing that stands out the most is how quiet it is—soulless even. There’s staff in the house: Magda, the housekeeper and cook, and Jacob, the man who operates the gate, not to mention half a dozen armed guards. But they all seem to live in the shadows, and whenever I’ve walked by them, they’ve avoided my gaze or slipped into another room.

This house is as far removed from my tiny apartment back in New York as a place can be.

I love living in the city. I adore the constant noise, the bustle, the hordes of people. No matter what time of the day or night it is, you’re never alone in New York City.

My things were delivered to Alejandro’s house earlier today, not that I have much—only some clothes, books, toiletries, and a few personal belongings. I donated my furniture, suspecting my eclectic, hand-me-down pieces wouldn’t exactly fit in an LA mansion. I wasn’t wrong.

Every item in this house fits perfectly, and it’s all so elegant and beautiful. I find myself wondering whether Alejandro chose any of the pieces himself or if he hired a fancy designer to do it all. I imagine it was the latter.

Without anyone to ask where I’m supposed to sleep, I choose one of the spare bedrooms overlooking the pool. Once I unpack my things in there, the place is a little less imposing. But I can’t help feeling like I’m on vacation rather than starting a whole new life. None of this seems real. If only it weren’t.

I’ve always dreamed about the day I’d marry the person I would spend my future with. In my head, it was an exciting, happy occasion. Nothing like today. All I feel is deep sadness and a crushing sense of loneliness. There’s an emptiness in my heart that I’m not sure I’ll ever fill here.

My loneliness finds me ambling through the tasteful gardens, hoping to find a little peace in the solitude, but it’s so spacious and quiet that it only makes me lonelier. As I make my way back to my newly acquired bedroom, I pass Magda in the hallway, and she tells me that she prepared dinner and left it in the refrigerator. I can’t face eating, which is unusual for me.

Finally, I get into bed with a book. I feel no more settled than I did when I got here, but at least I have a story to find a little solace in. Which is exactly what I’m doing when the door bursts open, almost coming off its hinges and startling me so much that I yelp.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing in here?” Alejandro shouts, storming into the room.

I blink up at him. Did I choose a room that belongs to someone else? How was I to know with nobody here to tell me otherwise? “I’m sorry. I didn’t know …”

He snarls. “Does this look like my fucking bedroom to you?”

“No, why on earth would I be in there?” I meet his fiery gaze with my own.

My words seem to provoke him further, and he stalks toward me. “You are my fucking wife, and you’ll sleep in my bed.”

I toss my book aside and jump up, coming face-to-face with the most dangerous man in LA, but he has me all wrong if he thinks he’s going to bully me into submission. “Just because I’m your wife doesn’t mean I have to sleep with you. And if you’re expecting sex from me, then think again. I don’t even like you.”

His laugh is cruel and mocking. “You are such a fucking child.”

What the hell? I’m only eight years younger than he is. Before I can call him an arrogant asshole, he speaks again.

“You think you have to like someone to have sex with them? Listen, princesa, you may be used to getting whatever you want when you snap your pretty little fingers, but that doesn’t work with me. As for sex, I’ve never forced myself on a woman in my life, and I don’t intend to start now. There are plenty of women who would be more than happy to share my bed, and I intend to take frequent advantage of them all.”

His body is only inches from mine, and he towers over me, fury radiating from him in waves. He runs the pad of his fingertip over my cheekbone, sending a shiver of something unwelcome but not entirely unpleasant skittering up my spine.

“But you are my fucking wife, and you will share my bed. Fortunately for you, I won’t be in it tonight, but when I get back to this house tomorrow, you and your things will be in the main bedroom where they belong. I will not have my staff fucking whispering about my new wife sleeping in one of the spare rooms. Do you understand me?” He bares his teeth like some sort of rabid dog. They don’t call him a devil for nothing. He is cruel and ruthless. A man like this could crush me without blinking, and I can never forget that.