Page 83 of LA King

Alejandro frowns at me. “So only politically, he’s all about family?”

“No, not just politically,” I say, feeling defensive. Not necessarily of my dad, but of my past and who I am.

“But he sent you to live with your grandparents. Not to mention he …” He shakes his head and doesn’t continue.

“I loved living with my grandparents though. They were the best.” I don’t know why I feel like I have to justify my childhood to him. “My mom and dad traveled a lot, and my grandparents were able to give me stability and security that traveling with my parents wouldn’t.”

“That sounds suspiciously like a sound bite.”

“It’s not a sound bite. It’s true,” I insist. “My grandma and grandpa were amazing people. I was lucky to have them.”

He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear and keeps his voice gentle. “I’m not doubting that. I’m just surprised that your father bleats on about how family is so important to him, yet he dumped his only child on his in-laws.”

“He didn’t dump me,” I snap. “I told you it was best for me.”

“Yeah, you keep saying that. But I don’t buy it.”

“You’re an asshole.” I try to wriggle from his arms, but he holds me tighter.

“You keep saying that too. I don’t doubt that you had a great childhood and your grandparents loved you very much, but you said you never had any money.”

“I said my grandparents never had a lot of money. They had enough, and they were the kind of people who didn’t care about material things. Not everybody grows up in a gated mansion, Alejandro.”

“I know that.” He frowns. “But your parents have always had money.”

“They did, yes. But not for …” I take a breath and try to explain. “That was for my father’s political career. And my grandparents would never have taken his money. I’m sure he must have offered them some.”

Alejandro tilts his head. “Why are you so loyal to a man who would give you away … twice?”

What? Is that what he thinks? “He didn’t give me away. I told you, when I was a kid, it was best for me. And as for giving me away to you—what choice did he have?”

“We always have a choice, Alana. Even if it’s a difficult one.”

“Yes, well, sometimes people make choices because they’re desperate.”

“And sometimes, they make them because they are blind to the truth,” he retorts.

I’m about to tell him he’s a hypocritical asshole who should go to hell, but he rolls on top of me and crushes his mouth over mine. I bite down on his lip, and he stops kissing me and smirks at me instead.

“Feisty tonight?” His mouth goes to my neck, and I should tell him to stop, but my body has other ideas.

“Stop trying to distract me with sex,” I feebly protest.

He laughs. “I think we both need a distraction. Me asking you about your past seems to have made you angry.”

“You accusing my father of giving me away to you has made me angry,” I remind him.

“We’ll revisit our different understandings of how this contract between us came to be, Alana. But not right now.” He sucks one of my nipples into his mouth before releasing it with a pop. “Right now, all I want do is make you forget why you’re so pissed at me.”

“I’d like to see you try.” I pant the challenge as his fingers move between my thighs. I’m fighting a losing battle. My body responds to his of its own volition even when my brain is telling it otherwise.

“It certainly feels like you’d like me to try,” he growls, slipping two thick fingers inside me.

My legs part for him, and he takes the opportunity to toy with my swollen clit. When I’m whimpering with need, he trails his wicked mouth down my body and settles between my thighs. “You know I can make you come so hard you’ll forget what day of the week it is, don’t you, princesa?”

I want to tell him he’s wrong, not to mention conceited, but he’s right. I say nothing, instead pressing my head back against the pillow and focusing on the miracles this devil can perform with his tongue.

Not only because it’s so utterly distracting, but also because I don’t want to confront my past and examine too deeply my relationship with the man I hero-worshipped my entire life. Because then I might have to confront the uncomfortable truth that he’s not the man I believed he was. And if he’s not the good man I gave up my freedom for, then who does that make me?