The Ruthless Heir

Judge’s [POV]

I enter Mercedes’s room on Saturday evening to find her applying the last of her makeup. Her signature crimson lipstick. The makeup is just for tonight. It will be removed from her room once we’re gone.

Her back is to me, and I see how the dress drapes to just the right length to hide any scars. Only the unblemished skin of her back is exposed. Her hair is pulled up, and I can see the IVI tattoo and the space above it where her eventual husband’s mark will be placed.

I can’t think about that, though.Content provided by NôvelDrama.Org.

Mercedes’s eyes are on me in the reflection. She knew I was watching and waiting, letting me. “Too much?” she asks, standing to her full height.

She’s stunning. Black hair swept high, one tendril left to be tucked flirtatiously behind her ear. Skin glowing. Eyes lined heavily. The scarlet dress hugs her the way it was made to. She has brushed gold dust on her shoulders and at the deep V between her breasts that allows for a glimpse of their fullness, but it’s unnecessary. She’s already too beautiful. Too alluring.

“My eyes are up here, Judge.”

I look up to find her grinning like she’s amused. The old Mercedes De La Rosa will make an appearance tonight. All her armor is in place. I had worried about her going back to a Society event, but I know now I don’t need to be. She will dominate.

“Not too much, no,” I start, taking her arm and tucking it into mine. “Stunning. But you already know that.”

“I do, but I love hearing it.” She smiles wide, and I walk her out of the room.

“Vanity is not an attractive trait.”

“Neither is cowardice.”

I help her into the back of the Rolls, and Raul drives toward the compound. “Are we back to that?”

She turns to me, eyes calculating, and I remember what she’d said in the beginning. How she could have any man she wanted. Any time.

I had no doubt then. I have no doubt now.

“It’s just that if you can’t be honest with yourself, well, it’s cowardly, don’t you think? All the why are you here, Mercedes,” she says, mimicking me, “when you can’t admit to yourself what you truly want.”

“Your pussy.”

“Exactly. My pussy.”

I lean toward her to whisper the next part. “Thing is, I do want it, little monster. I’d love to feel that tight virgin cunt of yours squeezing my cock.”

Her mouth falls open at my inelegant response.

I straighten, victorious. “But one of us has to be the adult here. Think of what’s best for the little monster.”

“Stop calling me that!”

“What’s the matter? Have I ruffled your feathers?”

“Fuck off.” She folds her arms and turns to look out the window.

I chuckle as we pull in through the compound entrance where cars are already lined up, dozens of elegantly dressed men and women mingling in the courtyard.

I climb out of the car and extend my hand. “Shall we?”

She places hers inside mine. “Let’s.” She smiles wide, putting on the mask she reserves for Society events. The socialite. The wealthy, gorgeous young woman who hasn’t a care in the world. It must be exhausting.

I slip a hand to her lower back and don’t miss the looks we’re getting as I lean close to her ear. “Ivy will be here tonight. I expect you to behave. Or else.”

She stops and looks up at me. “Is that why you brought me? A repeat of my punishment with Miriam?”

My jaw tenses. Does she see it? “On the contrary. She has agreed to come to show her support for you. She doesn’t want you going before The Tribunal any more than I do.”

Her face loses some of its colors then, and I rub a circle into her lower back.

“It won’t come to that,” I say.

“How can you know that?” she asks, looking up at me, that vulnerable girl beneath the armored woman before my eyes.

“I will make certain of it. I promise, little monster. I will protect you.”

She looks momentarily confused, but before she can comment, we’re interrupted. As soon as we enter the ballroom, Mercedes shines brighter than the chandeliers, the center of attention, laughing, telling stories, being the Mercedes they all know and love to hate.

It’s a little while later when Santiago walks in with Ivy. I know Mercedes has been watching for them, and I hear the small pause in her speech when she sees them. No one else would notice it, though. She’s quick to recover.

“If you’ll excuse us,” I say to the group and take Mercedes’s elbow to lead her toward Ivy and Santiago, giving Ivy a moment as she realizes who I am. In the time I kept her in that cellar, she never saw my face. But she did hear my voice. And I’m sure she’s memorized my walk, my posture. I know the moment she recognizes me from her body language. She stiffens and all but turns to leave when Santiago stops her. Her expression is one of horror as he talks to her, whispering in her ear. I can imagine what he’s saying. And when we get to them, I nod in greeting to her only to watch Santiago draw her closer when she stutters an attempt at a greeting.

“Well, well,” Mercedes says, a wide grin on her face, drink in hand. Her gaze drops to Ivy’s stomach before meeting her eyes, and I am sure both Ivy and Santiago see her disdain.

I squeeze her elbow.

“Santi,” Mercedes says. “So nice to see you two out and about together, a little family in the making.” She swallows what’s left in her glass, sets it on a passing server’s tray, grabs a full flute, and brings it to her lips.

“Easy,” I tell her. I think she’d knock the drink back if she could.

Councillor Hildebrand’s secretary approaches us then. I try to remember his name but fail. We greet him, and he asks for a moment with Santiago and me.

“Do you ladies think you can behave yourselves for five minutes?” I ask. This is as good a time as any to see if my little monster can do it.

I get the feeling the answer is no when Mercedes, beaming, takes Ivy’s hand. “Don’t worry about us. We’ll catch up.” I give her a warning look she ignores and turns to walk Ivy to a private sitting area. Santiago and I both watch the woman as the secretary discusses what he came to tell us. A trivial matter.

The women speak for a few moments, and Ivy tries to disengage herself, rising halfway but then sitting back down. I don’t miss Mercedes’s bloodred nails on the other woman’s thigh. Someone Mercedes knows walks by. One of her circles whose name I don’t know. Mercedes greets her, then returns her attention to Ivy while wearing a frosty smile as they speak.

“If I were a fly on the wall,” Santiago says.

“I can probably guess at what is being said.”

“Sadly, so can I.”

They speak some more, and finally, Ivy, forgetting or not caring she’s in public, shoves Mercedes’s arm off and stands. She only gets about two steps in before whatever Mercedes says stops her, and Santiago and I move just a little closer. Close enough to catch enough of the words that will condemn Mercedes to her fate tonight.

“In nine months, I’ll be back in my rightful place,” Mercedes hisses.

“What did you say?”

“Or eight months, I guess?” She sips from her drink.

“What are you talking about?”

She stands and walks toward Ivy, her approach that of a predator.

Santiago sighs in disappointment as we hear the rest of their conversation.

“What did you think? That you could steal my family from me?” Mercedes asks Ivy.

“I’m not stealing anything. Your brother made a choice. He chose me.”

Mercedes pauses, then cocks her head to the side to study Ivy. And she laughs. “Oh, my God! I don’t believe it. You’re in love with him. You are seriously in love with him.”

“I-”

“Well, poor, stupid Ivy,” she says, leaning closer, twirling a strand of Ivy’s hair around her forefinger. “He doesn’t love you. He could never love you. Not after what your father did to him. To us.”

Ivy’s face pales.

“So enjoy your little victory for now. But remember what you are to him and what he needs you for. Once you give him his heir, it’s bye-bye, Ivy.”