Claire: The Forced Virgin Of The Billionaire

Azriel’s POVThis content © Nôv/elDr(a)m/a.Org.

Not only was everyone in the Castillo cartel compound dead thanks to me and my guys plus the compound burned to the ground, the fire started by me striking the match after pouring gasoline on that bed in that room in the sick f**k’s basement after I’d taken my time with vengeance against Castillo as well as Earl Johnston.

If I’d found the corpse of the motherfucker who’d laid his hands on my girl I’d have fed Earl that corpse’s c**k before I shot him. Beyond that, I’d secured a deal with another cartel who helped me orchestrate the downfall, handing them the Castillo business and fortifying a deal that would nearly triple our profits from Mexico. Part of that deal included an exit strategy in a year’s time, which the cartel was more than happy to agree to because it meant 100% of the profits for them from that point on and it meant a lot to me because I didn’t want to be in the drug business. A smooth transition was important, though. I couldn’t just make an instant break.

Earl had said some things, made some accusations that I was troubled about. And a few comments from Castillo in the minutes before he died were either enlightening or designed to plant the seeds of doubt about some of what I knew about my Uncle. I had some legwork to do to see if it held any truth. At the moment, I was taking all that’d been said with a grain of salt. He was gone now; they both were, so I couldn’t go back to either of them for more information.

My Uncle didn’t even ask what made Earl defect, which made me think that maybe Earl spoke the truth. Why wouldn’t he at least wonder why a trusted employee would suddenly steal his future daughter-in-law and shoot a colleague in the head in cold b***d?

Pretty telling to me that Uncle was impressed, however, with the way things turned out. He didn’t know about the exit strategy but then again he didn’t need to know. I’d be in charge long before that would take place.

Thankfully he didn’t commend me on my lemonade-making skills. He’d taught me a long time ago to take opportunities wherever you could get them, even in the face of tragedy. But I think he knew better. The lemons I’d just been served had a pretty profound effect on me. I was pushing away thoughts that this s**t was all my Uncle’s fault. I needed more info first.

But damn, the way she wrapped herself around me in the shower when I was home and tried to take care of me and then handed me control this morning…it did something to me, fortified me. Today I felt like I could rule the f*****g world. But I didn’t really want to, for once. I just wanted to go back and climb in bed with her, smell her, feel her, touch her. Make up for lost time. Try to make up for the tears I’d caused her.

When I walked into the office my uncle handed me a brass skeleton key that was about a foot long.

“What’s this?” I jerked my chin up.

“Key to the city. Symbolic, my boy. When is the wedding?”

I laid it on his desk and smiled a little, “I’ll keep you posted.”

“A month? Do it at my house. I’ll tell Lisa. She and your sisters can help. We’ll call that planner that put my and Lisa’s wedding together.”

I shrugged, “That could work. Let me just talk to her before you get the girls involved.”

Claire’s POV

I lounged in bed for the biggest part of what was left of the day, despite sleeping at least 14 hours the night he came home. He really had worn me out. The last week and a half had worn me out emotionally and I guessed it had manifested itself physically despite the fact I’d done not much other than lay around. At around dusk I decided to get some proper exercise and do some laps in the pool and then I spent a few hours reading a novel that Rosita had lent me. I had trouble losing myself in it. Why did I need escape into another world when my own world felt like another world? While it was a pretty stress-free evening, all things considered, my wheels just wouldn’t stop turning. I thought on possible scenarios regarding my father and this whole betrayal thing. I thought about Azriel’s words after we woke up that day, about the fact that I could look at this thing two ways.

1: He’d taken ownership of me and given me a life sentence to be with him, regardless of what I’d be put through and regardless of how I felt. I had no choice, no out.

2: He was making a lifelong commitment to me and I’d have to take him for better or for worse. There could be a lot worse than being with him, as I’d seen down in Mexico. He promised to protect me. No one had ever offered me that before. Not my father, not anyone.

If I chose to look at it positively, it sounded like all he was doing was articulating some marriage vows. Promising to provide for me and protect me but there was an underlying threat that I couldn’t leave even if I wanted to despite the fact that it’d be rough at times. And that freaked me out. A lot.

But how much would be for better and how much would be for worse? Dinner date guy vs gangster guy with the dark hunger for control — the dominator. Till death do us part was something people promised all the time but I had no choice but to honor and obey. I was going to be taken literally in promising to obey him and to spend my life with him, only I hadn’t promised that. I’d been told that this was the deal; like it or lump it.

What was next for me, for us? Did I try to find a way to accept this or did I keep looking for a way out? The way he looked at me made me feel wanted. He was gorgeous, he was protective, he knew how to light my body on fire. He could be charming. He scared the crap out of me.