Ryan Johnson was lucky I didn’t smash his pretty face into the marble floors of this reception room among all the reporters. With a clenched jaw, I watched him pull Isabella’s soft body into his and press his mouth to hers. She let him, but there was a slight tension in her body. I read her body’s responses like an open book. I might have had her for only one night, but she melted under my touch and my body. Fuck, the way she melted into me that night was pure perfection.

And I threw it all away. To keep a promise, I thought bitterly.

From the moment I spotted her in that dress, her amazing tits on display and the slits up both sides of the skirt showing off her legs with every step, my hard cock refused to subside. There was nothing more I wanted than to kill her boyfriend and take her home with me. Everything about her made my cock hard. And the way she raised her haughty chin of hers, defiance in her eyes… fuck, it was enough to make me spill.

Ryan placed another kiss on her soft skin, and I gritted my molars. She wasn’t his. I could still hear her moans in my head, feel her soft skin under my rough palms. The rage blinded me at seeing her boyfriend touch her.

I rolled the anger off my shoulders at seeing Ryan put his mouth on her and touch her. It wouldn’t bode well if I went into attack mode. Not yet. It wasn’t time to show who owned Isabella Taylor. Or should I say Santos?

Her red dress hugged her body and had an open back, giving me a full view of her smooth skin. It made my cock painfully twitch. Ever since that night five years ago, she had inked herself into my bloodstream and refused to leave me. She was like a fucking enchantress that threw a spell on me, refusing to let go. That innocent, vulnerable look of hers, the way she carried her softness on her sleeve, drew me in. She was a beautiful woman, but that vulnerability and softness was what brought men to their knees. She was crack for men, willing to commit murder to have a taste of her.

It was the reason I had men watch over her from the moment I met her, alongside my sister. Even after that night I squashed her heart under my expensive boots, I had men watch over her. I couldn’t let go. I told myself it was so I could always keep tabs on her, but for the first time in my damn life, I’d lied to myself.

Ever since I met her, I had always lurked in the shadows. She was a pawn to my revenge, but the joke was on me. The relationship between my father and her mother was so much more than my mother led on. There wasn’t an innocent in that fucking triangle.

Actually, scratch that!

Isabella was the only innocent in that whole fiasco. The regret was bitter, but the desire and need for her never diminished. Five years and I could still taste her on my lips, feel her soft body withering under my touch, hear her moans. Ever since that night, I haven’t been able to get her out of my head. The way she gave herself to me, without reservation, holding nothing back. It was priceless, addictive, intoxicating.

Her blind trust made my betrayal even worse.

But I was done paying for my sins. Or our parents’. This time, I’d play for my queen.

Let the games begin.