ENRIQUE
My hands balled into fists as I paced the length of my room. The polished floor beneath my feet felt slippery with my own agitation. Last night was a spectacle—a carefully orchestrated show designed to remind me who held the reins, who owned me, and who would crush me if I stepped out of line. My father, ever the puppet master, had made his intentions clear without so much as uttering a word. And Roman... his presence was enough to solidify the message.
Roman—a man I had once admired and feared in equal measure. The Egyptian bastard had been my mentor of sorts, though "training" under him was more akin to surviving a wild animal attack. He had no qualms about breaking ribs or fracturing bones if it drove home a lesson. I had learned to dodge him, not just physically but emotionally, numbing myself to the pain and humiliation. Roman did not just teach me how to fight; he taught me how to hate. And last night, his smirk across the room was the same as it had always been—mocking, threatening, daring me to step out of line.
"Son of a bitch," I muttered under my breath, slamming my palm against the wall. The hollow thud echoed in the room, but it did nothing to release the pent-up anger coursing through me.
Tomas. My brother had been dragged into this mess as collateral, as leverage, as bait. My father's games were rarely about one person. He loved the ripple effect—the way his threats cascaded through everyone I cared about, leaving chaos in their wake. I wasn't blind to his methods. He wanted me to fall in line, to be the obedient son, to carry out his vision without complaint. Last night was his reminder:
Stay loyal, or watch everything you care about burn.
And that included Olivia.
A shrill sound cut through my thoughts, pulling me back to the present. My phone buzzed on the nightstand, vibrating insistently.
I glanced at the phone and considered letting it go to voicemail, but something told me this wasn't a call I could ignore.
With a frustrated sigh, I snatched the phone and pressed it to my ear. "What?" My tone was clipped, sharp.
"I have done my part," Drew's voice came through the line, tinged with a mix of anxiety and defiance. "I am out and you cannot ask me to do something like this again"
I let out a humorless chuckle, the sound dark and biting.
"Out?" I repeated, my voice laced with mockery. "You do not get to decide when you are out, Drew. I do. And last I checked, I am not done with you yet."
"Listen, Enrique," he started, but I cut him off.
"No, you listen," I snapped. "You think you can decide when you get to walk out from our deal? Do I need to remind you what is at stake here?" I let the silence stretch for a moment, letting the weight of my words sink in. "Stay in line, Drew. Don't make me decide to teach you how"
The line went dead as I hung up, tossing the phone onto the bed.
My jaw tightened, and I exhaled through my nose, trying to rein in the storm brewing inside me. The walls of the room felt suffocating, closing in with every breath. I needed a plan—not just for my father and his twisted games, but for Olivia. She was the wild card in all of this, the one piece I could not afford to mishandle.
My pacing slowed as my thoughts shifted to her. Olivia. The woman I had dragged into this mess, the woman I could not seem to stop thinking about, even when I knew I should.
She was smart, fiery, and so far out of my league that it was almost laughable. But last night, seeing her among the sharks, her posture stiff and her eyes wary, I had felt something I could not quite name. Guilt? Regret? Whatever it was, it gnawed at me, relentless and unyielding.
Before I realized it, my feet had carried me to her door. I hesitated, my hand hovering over the wood.
What was I even doing here? Apologizing? Explaining? Neither option felt right. What was I apologizing for exactly? The mess I had put her in or the one to come?
I knocked gently, the sound barely audible in the quiet hallway.
Seconds stretched into minutes, and I considered walking away.
She must be sleeping but my next move was decided for me when the door creaked open.
Olivia stood there, her hair tousled and her eyes heavy with sleep. She looked so soft, so utterly unguarded, that it completely stole my breath away. My eyes betrayed me, trailing down her figure. Her night dress hugging every part of her body, teasing me with transparency.
My eyes snapped back to her face with such force and it took all of my willpower to keep from reaching for the one lock of hair falling over her face. Heat flared in my body, and I cleared my throat, desperate to regain control.
"Are you hungry?" I asked, my voice rougher than I intended.
She blinked at me, her expression wary but curious. After a moment, she nodded. "Yeah. I guess."
"Good," I said, stepping back, away from her.
"Get dressed. We will have breakfast at my favorite restaurant." The words came out more commanding than I meant, but I did not correct myself. Let her think this was just about food. Let her think this was anything but the calculated move it was.
In truth, I needed her out there. Drew had done what he was supposed to do and so I needed the reporters and the cameras and the chaos to do the rest of the work for me. The news about her father had already started to spread, and I wanted her to see it, to feel the pressure. If she broke, it would be easier to keep her in line. At least, that is what I told myself. But deep down, I could not ignore the pang of guilt that twisted in my chest.
This wasn't just about control. It was about her—and the way she made me feel, the way she made me question everything I thought I wanted.
I did not want to hurt her… she was the kindest person I knew asides my brother.
The door closed and I leaned against the wall, closing my eyes. My hands clenched and unclenched at my sides, the war inside me raging louder than ever. This was a game, I reminded myself. A dangerous, high-stakes game where the only rule was survival. And I could not afford to lose.
I tried to conjure my brother's face… the reason I was here and about to upend the life of this woman but I failed desperately.
I grunted in frustration, my eyes snapping open to meet Olivia's.
She had opened the door back up without my knowledge.
My face cleared but it was already too late.
She had her guard up and there was a trace of fear in her gaze that she desperately tried to hide.
"You cannot possibly be done" I teased, trying to liven the atmosphere that had gone degrees colder.
"I am not" She croaked. "I wanted to ask what sort of place it was"
"Just ordinary, princess. You won't be getting any fine dining from me, I am afraid" I chuckled
She smiled but it was strained.
I watched her close the door again, knocking myself over the head.
What are you doing? I thought.
She is obviously spooked.
Last night must have been too much for her coupled with the fact that she had received no answer from me except she was safe which she wasn't, if I might add.
One thing Olivia wasn't would be dumb.
She wasn't asking but she was definitely thinking.
And there was the fact that I had seen her in my room.
What had she been looking for?
As much as I wanted to tell myself she was probably just exploring… what if she was already questioning my motive about everything.
I pushed forward from the wall, walking away from her door.
There was nothing in my room that should implicate me but I should check just to be sure.
I straightened the edge of my sleeve absentmindedly whilst walking back to my room.
It was neat as a pin.
Not one thing out of place.
It was laughable how much this was a contrast to my own life at the moment.
Olivia announced she was ready to go in a couple of minutes and we marched to the elevator together.
She was questionably quiet or was it just me imagining it?
The walk to the car was also silent and so was the ride to the restaurant.
I definitely was not imagining it.
Somehow, I could tell she knew something but how much did she know?