Violent Triumphs Read online Jessica Hawkins (White Monarch #3)

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, Contemporary, Romance Tags Authors: Series: White Monarch Series by Jessica Hawkins
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Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 104157 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
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Epilogue

Natalia

We were warned, and so were you. In the end, death took what it wanted—Cristiano and Natalia de la Rosa. But in their place, Joaquin and Jenny Delgado were born.

My attacker had no idea who he was dealing with.

I nailed him in the chest with the flat of my foot, and my sneaker landed squarely between his pecs. He grabbed my ankle and twisted until I was forced to rotate around and face the opposite direction. Teetering on one leg, anyone else would’ve been dangerously close to falling flat on her face.

Not me. I lifted my head and met a sea of wide-eyed women, their mouths agape. “A leg grab like this while fighting back is both common and dangerous,” I said. My shoulder-length hair fell forward, curtaining my face. “So in this scenario—”

Fuck.

A dark glare pinned me from the back of the room. Cristiano’s arms crossed over his wide chest, displaying the massive biceps that had lovingly hugged me just this morning.

With the way his firmed jaw ticked like a time bomb about to blow, he looked more likely to kill me.

He took one step forward into the room.

“Let go, Dimitris,” I hissed to the man holding my ankle in a firm grip.

“Huh?”

Poor guy didn’t realize his life was on the line. Cristiano took another step.

“Release my leg,” I said under my breath so I wouldn’t scare the women sitting on the mat in front of us. I was sure they were already horrified enough to see me up here, even though my fake last name was on the banner in the registration room. “Hurry.”

He let go, and I lowered my foot to the ground gracefully to show Cristiano that my body was perfectly within my control. I straightened as I slipped my sandal back on and stepped back, gesturing for Dimitris to continue. “Sorry I interrupted your lesson,” I said, retreating. “Go ahead. Continue.”

With a funny look, Dimitris turned back to the class.

I gave Cristiano my best puppy-dog eyes since they’d served me well with him in the past. I held a finger to my lips to indicate we shouldn’t interrupt. The alternative was that these women, who we’d invited here to learn to defend themselves, would watch me get reamed out.

When I met Cristiano at the door, he placed a hand on my upper back and guided me out of the small, mirrored room and into the office, where he shut the door behind himself.

“Natalia,” he started.

“Lourdes, my love,” I corrected him. Had I not been able to see his anger with my own eyes, my name, loaded with warning, would’ve been enough to tell me. “Or Jenny, of course—”

“We’re alone.” His brows lowered. “Don’t change the subject.”

I tried to look contrite. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I was just observing the class before our date, and I get so excited to demonstrate for the girls myself. And I feel great—”

“And what if that pendejo out there had yanked on your foot and you’d lost your balance?”

I walked to Cristiano, took his hands, and placed them on my thirty-three-weeks-pregnant belly. “Everything’s going to be okay, papi. We’re safe here. Nothing is happening to this baby.” I smiled up at him. “I’ve never been so sure of anything.”

His shoulders loosened, if only a little. “I worry, mi amor.”

I laughed. “That’s like saying the Pope prays. It’s very obvious.”

“I’m not being unreasonable,” he cried. “Everyone in that room thought you were crazy. That an eight-month pregnant woman would teach self-defense . . .” He shook his head and uttered a profanity.

His concern didn’t bother me; it made him who he was. But it was unnecessary. I squeezed his hands beneath mine. “Can’t you feel how strong our bebita is?”

As if on cue, she kicked, but her timing wasn’t that strange. The baby was always moving around, always telling her mama she was ready to come out and throw some punches. I wanted that, too, considering my uterus had become a punching bag.

Cristiano grunted, smoothing his hands under my blouse and over the warm, tight skin of my stomach. “I can’t wait any longer to meet her.” His demeanor lightened considerably, as it often did when he spoke of the future. “Do you think she’ll come early?”

I nodded. “She’s very eager and persistent. Like her father.”

He bent forward to place a sweet kiss on my lips. “Don’t think you’re off the hook. Since day one of this pregnancy, you’ve been strictly forbidden from teaching self-defense.”

“And I have definitely abided by that rule,” I said, trying not to squirm from the obvious lie.

As if Cristiano didn’t know. His full lips pressed into a line, displaying his skepticism. “I’m not trying to limit you—you know that.” He stepped closer and slipped his hands around the back of my neck to gather my long bob into a loose ponytail. “I’ve just come too close, too many times, to losing you.”


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