Page 126 of Remi's War (Four Dark Horsemen 2)

Amalia flips her hair back as she says, “Hopefully, it will put an end to your harassment.”

My brow lifts at this. “Me coming to New York and trying to have a conversation with you hardly counts as harassment, Amalia.” Although I haven’t spent time alone in her company at fucking all and mostly had arguments with Lachlan over her, the memories of my so-called obsession with her still inspires anger within me.

Because my emotions for her were never genuine, but even those fake emotions managed to hurt my wife.

My obsession and possessiveness belong only to her. I don’t want anyone—and especially her—to ever think otherwise.

She huffs, pushing her chair back, and it scrapes soundly against the floor as she gets up. “Miss me with that bullshit, will you? You’ve been the bane of my existence for years now, so trust me when I say I hope it’s the end.”

Santiago grabs the papers, running his eyes over it, and he nods in satisfaction. “I’ll send these now so we can start the process.” He barely spares Amalia a glance. “Do us all a favor and keep your family away from our city. Next time, we won’t react so kindly to them breaking the rules and deceiving us.” On this note, he leaves me alone with the woman who is almost a spitting image of my wife and yet does absolutely nothing for me.

In fact, the only emotion present is fury at her behaving so badly toward her and treating her affections akin to a pestering insect she wishes to kill off.

Amalia is a freezing winter, while Penelope is a warm summer day my darkness cannot help but long to bask in and believe there is something deep inside me besides anger and the desire to inflict torture.

The need to possess her rides me constantly. Even right now, I want to go back to her as soon as possible so no one would dare hurt her, and drink my fill of her.

The woman belongs to me. She will only ever be mine, and that’s an aphrodisiac to a person who never had anything of his own, even his family name.

People who had everything would never truly get those who had to live without.

I get up as well, snatching out the pack of cigarettes from my back pocket and putting one in my mouth while noticing Amalia is still standing by her seat as if expecting something. “Amalia, you presented no interest to me besides the shares you owned.” I light up my cigarette, sending the smoke flying around us.

She ponders this statement, her hand gripping the strap of her purse tightly to the point of her knuckles turning white and finally she spits out a question. “And Penelope?” She bites her lip, then adds, “You will treat her well?”

It clearly physically pains her to even voice her question, because we both know the hidden meaning behind it.

She cares.

Despite doing her best not to, she cares about her twin, and this is a weapon in itself, since I can always use it against her.

She shouldn’t worry though. Penelope loves her, and what my wife loves will not be harmed.

Unless someone or something decides to take her away, then they will all fucking die.

“Isn’t it a bit late to be concerned with that? You made her marry me to save your family.”

Regret flashes on her face before she masks it with indifference and straightens up. “Just answer my question, Remi. Will you treat her well? Like Cortez men treat their women?”

“I’m not a Cortez, Amalia.” She hisses in anger, and I take a greedy pull, enjoying watching her frustration for my wife’s sake. No one gets to hurt her without facing some shit from me. “And you made it abundantly clear you want nothing to do with her, so our marriage is none of your business.”

She opens and closes her mouth, an internal battle going on inside her as she tries to rein in her emotions, but finally the most prominent wins when she screams, “If you hurt her, I’m going to kill you!”

My laughter reverberates through the walls, which in turn makes her red, and she pulls the door open, only to hiss at Florian standing in the doorjamb, “Move away, Price.”

“Aww, leaving so soon, darling?” he asks, sighing dramatically. “Not even going to stay for cake?”

She storms away while Florian smirks.

“Gotta say I’m glad you married Penelope.” He shudders. “Have you seen what she did to her last victim?”

Instead of answering him, I frown, noticing a red handprint on his cheek. “What happened to you?”

“Nothing.”

Tension rises between us while we both just stare at one another, knowing full well who slapped him. Which isn’t surprising.

For the silver tongue Florian has, he spits straight-up cruel bullshit to the mother of his child.

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