When she hears me approaching, she nearly knocks the chair back in her haste to get up and greet me. She can tell by the look in my eye that I am not pleased.

"Santiago." She pleads with me as I stalk toward her.

I wrap my fingers around her neck, applying enough pressure to make her sputter. "What the fuck do you think you’re doing?"

"I'm looking after our best interests," she chokes out. "You are letting her get to you already. Giving her that suite. The dress. The ring. This manor. She should be locked in a basement with nothing more than the shame of her family name to keep her warm."

I shove her away with a snarl. "How easily you forget your place."

"My place is beside you, as your equal." She rubs at her throat. "We are De La Rosas. Our blood is stronger than any other. That is why you survived, Santi. So you could lead. And I am here to help you."

"You are here to get in my way."

I pace the length of the floor, conflicted.

Perhaps Mercedes is right. I am letting Ivy get to me. I can see how she might draw such a conclusion, given the luxuries bestowed upon my wife already. But I have a plan, and I trust that will not alter. It is not for my sister to question me, and I must make that clear to her now.

"Betray me again, and you will not like the consequences," I say. "For now, you can accept your punishment graciously."

"Punishment?" She stares at me incredulously.

I seize her Gucci wallet and cell phone from the computer desk and pocket them.

She lunges for me, an expression of horror on her face. "No! You can't do this to me."

"You can have them back when you've shown some contrition for a change. Perhaps it will do you good."

Her jaw sets, and already I can see her plotting her revenge.

"Don't do anything stupid, Mercedes," I warn her menacingly. "You won't like the results if you test my patience further."

19

Santiago

Ivy is finishing up the light meal Antonia provided her when I return to her room. A fresh set of candles burns at her bedside, and it's brighter than the last time I saw her.

The gash on her head looks worse than before, and it bothers me more than I’d like.

"Tell me about the cut." I glance down at her. “How did it happen?”

She wipes her hands with a napkin and then folds it over the tray. Her eyes are cast down, and I can tell she's still trying to keep her secrets. But I will not allow it, and she should already be aware of this.

"Ivy." My voice is a warning, but my fingers are soft as they graze the back of her neck.

"I stumbled and fell."