Page 619 of One More Kiss

Romantic Suspense

Defying His Destiny

Chapter1

“She’s pretty, isn’t she?”My half-sister, Elisenda’s, tone is playful, when she stands on her tip toes to whisper in my ear.

I keep my gaze firmly locked on Ophelia Rocafort-Porra. The flaxen-haired beauty is a vision in her velvet and lace ballgown. My younger brother circles her, brazenly attempting to play the besotted fool, while he uses his posse of degenerates to scare off the other men attempting to monopolize Ophelia’s attention. Of course, she ignores them all, seeming content to shoot surreptitious looks and flirty smiles my way.

“Beautiful,” I reply without thinking. “Stunning.”

My sister sidles in front of me and pats my chest with her gloved hand. “It’s taken you long enough.”

Cocking an eyebrow, I ask, “To what?”

Instead of answering my question, Elisenda tilts her head in the direction of our brother. “Seems like Ludovit has noticed her as well.”

I grunt. Elisenda smiles. Together, we watch our brother try his best to keep his eyes off the deep cleavage being presented to him by the tight bodice of Ophelia’s dress. Every time she inhales, his eyes darken with a lecherous intent, and I’m forced to swallow my desire to storm over and knock his teeth down his throat before I throw Ophelia over my shoulder and run away with her.

It gets harder each time, but I manage by telling myself the same thing I’ve told myself since she made her interest in me known…

Twenty-nine does not go into eighteen.No matter how often eighteen’s begging eyes and knowing smiles singe me on the spot.

“So, what are you going to do about it?”

It’s obvious that my sister is angling for something because she rarely acknowledges me in public. Our mothers drove a wedge between us before she was even born. I understand her predicament, though. I’m ten years older. The illegitimate son. Publicly known for using bloody methods to fix our family’s problems. Any one of those facts would be more than enough to create distance between even the best-intentioned siblings.

Since I spent eight years living in a Spanish orphanage after my mother’s family rejected me in the wake of her death, I’m used to being treated as a pariah. That situation isn’t going to change, either, while our father is forced to accept my presence in America, so his enemies can’t use me against him. Until he can come up with an acceptable excuse to banish me back to Catalonia, Elisenda’s conditional acceptance of me, and Ludovit’s cold dismissal are a small price to pay for the close proximity I’ve gained to my sperm donor.

“I don’t think Ludovit’s her type.” Elisenda’s sharp voice interrupts my internal musings. “No, Ophelia prefers a more mature kind of man. A quiet man. Someone who’s picky about the company he keeps and proudly protects the woman on his arm.”

“Senna,” I caution in a growl. “Stop.”

“Stop, what?”

Pretending that thoughts of Ophelia on my arm aren’t driving me wild, I spear my sister with a narrow-eyed gaze. “Whatever the fuck you’re trying to get at…” When her smile doesn’t dim in the face of my hostility, I try again. “I’m not kidding. My position here is tenuous. The last thing I want is to give Ludovit a reason to petition for my exile.”

“But Arnaut—”

“Call me Vito or go away,” I interject.

She knows I hate to be addressed by the name I share with our father.

Elisenda stamps her foot. She huffs and crosses her arms over her chest, her pin-straight ponytail of raven-colored hair flipping behind her like the tail of an agitated cat. “Okay… Vito. Ophelia will kill me for telling you this, but she needs your help.”

Her admission makes my heart pound.

Ophelia’s in trouble?

I immediately search the ballroom to find her. As if she feels my gaze, Ophelia turns in my direction and offers me a tentative smile. Her attention strays to Elisenda at my side. I tap my sister’s shoulder and gesture toward her best friend.

“She looks fine to me.”

My sister twists around to look where I’m pointing. Before she can respond, Ludovit takes hold of Ophelia’s elbow and pulls her onto his lap. When she struggles in his grip, he anchors her by wrapping an arm around her waist. As the group of men surrounding them laugh at her obvious discomfort, the color drains from Ophelia’s face, and she shoots Elisenda a pleading look.

“See?” Elisenda implores. Her hand trembles when she lays it on my arm. “She needs help. I can’t do anything, but you can help her.”

Over the top of my sister’s head, I observe our family’s Head of Security, Joaquin, waving me over. He’s standing behind our father, who’s glaring at me with a dark and brooding look that screams for me to get the hell away from his precious daughter. I pretend that I can’t see his censure and take my time to identify the group he’s standing with. They’re all associates of La Trinitat Nova, the alliance of powerful families that rule the world. Each defined region is run by a synod of three families. My father is one of the American leaders. Ophelia’s father is another. The Costa-Rey’s are the third family; however, they’re infamous for their reticence to appear publicly so have avoided tonight’s get-together. The men surrounding my father range from billionaires to local port masters since Trinity membership isn’t defined by a man’s bank account.

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