Chapter 5
YASMINE
The compound had corners that breathed secrets.
In the first month, Yasmine had learned which alleys the guards leaned against to smoke, what time they did their switches, and if there were any gaps for an escape.
She knew which stairwells carried sound too well and which courtyards were safe enough to walk the children without raising suspicion.
Safety didn’t exist here, not really, but she’d found a way to live within the illusion of it.
Today, she carried Isabella on her hip and the boys walked by her side as they trailed behind a maid.
She was taking them to the kitchens. Their excuse was simple, food.
Bread, milk, cheese, fruit. She’d learned quickly that a mother asking for food wasn’t questioned.
Carlos’s desire to make sure they remained healthy and growing gave her freedom to rooms that normally she wouldn’t have access to.
And walking to and from all these locations let her listen.
They passed through the eastern corridor, sunlight slanting across the tiles. Two men leaned near an archway, their voices low, but the hush made Yasmine’s ears perk up with interest.
“Did you hear that the Alvarez shipments are moving faster since the river route opened?” the one guy asked. “The Don is going to hate that.”
“Not for long. He already knows and says that when those military fucks get back he will use them to crush the new line,” the second guy answered.
Her breath caught.
What military guys?
She didn’t pause, she didn’t dare. Yasmine kept her eyes straight ahead, but her steps slowed just enough to catch more.
“What is he going to have them do?”
The second guy took a drag on a cigarette and adjusted the rifle slung over his shoulder before answering. “He says that he wants the new Alvarez warehouses to burn. Alvarez won’t recover quick from that blow.”
A tug on Yasmine’s skirt broke her focus on the conversation and whatever else they said was lost. Tate whimpered, tired of walking. She crouched, smoothing his dark hair.
“I know baby it’s been a long day, but once we get our snack we can head to the room for a rest.”
“Carry me?” he asked, lip pushed out.
She smiled. “I can’t baby, but you’re a big strong guy, just like your Daddy. I know you can walk a little more.”
At the mention of Dean, his chin lifted. Both the boys always acted like they needed to impress him or maybe be just like him. Either way it did the trick. Tate nodded, and Aiden grabbed his hand with a smile.
With that settled, she slowly stood. The act was getting much harder now that she was six months along.
The maid shot an annoyed look over her shoulder. It clearly said, hurry up.
Yasmine glanced back where the men had been, but they’d wandered off. Her mind raced.
Shipments. Alveraz. Warehouses.
It was something Dean could use.
Yasmine always felt eyes on her, no matter where she went, and the kitchen was no different. There was no way to tell who friend or foe was.
Dinner prep was well underway, and the kitchen smelled delicious. One of the servants had taking a liking to them and packed two baskets for the boys to carry.
“Make sure you hold those tight, I’m counting on you two,” she said to Tate and Aiden. They nodded taking their job very seriously as they marched out the door.
Yasmine, normally avoided walking through the halls to get to the bedroom, but it was the shorter route and with the boys exhausted, she wanted to prevent a meltdown.
The halls felt smothering with the extra guards’ presence, and with the increased likelihood of running into Carlos, Yasmine’s nerves were stretched taut.
When she stepped out into the villa’s main foyer, the air thickened. Carlos Ramírez. She froze and thought about turning around, but it was too late, he’d already spotted her. His lip curled up as if knowing she planned on sprinting the other direction.
He stood near the staircase, flanked by two guards, a smile that made her skin crawl firmly in place. He dismissed a maid with a flick of his fingers, then turned his full attention to Yasmine. The hair stood on the back of her neck as he sauntered closer.
“Ah, mi preciosa,” he drawled, his gaze sliding from Yasmine’s face to the baby on her hip. “You grow more beautiful every day. Even captivity cannot dim a jewel like you.”
It took every ounce of self control not to jump away as he reached out and slid a finger down Yasmine’s cheek. He cupped her chin as if they were lovers, and her stomach rolled, flipped, and suddenly she was no longer hungry.
Forcing her expression to remain neutral, she lowered her gaze just enough to be respectful, “Senor, it is lovely to see you again,” she said, wanting to gag on the words.
The boys pressed close, sensing the shift in air. Isabella squirmed.
Carlos let go of Yasmine’s chin and she lifted her gaze to his.
There was something terribly wrong with his eyes.
There was a flatness to them that emitted evil in a way she’d never seen before.
He stepped closer, deliberately invading her space and forcing her to choose whether to retreat or stand her ground.
Yasmine held firm.
Leaning in closer, he breathed in and a shiver skittered like a small animal down her spine.
“Mercurio chose well. You burn brighter than any woman I have ever met. Such fire. Such…spirit.” His gaze lingered on her mouth, then lowered to her breasts.
“I bet you’re the same way between the sheets. A screamer no doubt.”
Her stomach knotted, but she didn’t move. Didn’t flinch, that was what he wanted.
“My children don’t need to hear your compliments, Senor,” she said softly, her voice steady even as her palms dampened with sweat.
He chuckled low. “Your children? They are mine as much as they are yours. Blood carries, even in my son’s denial.
There is no escaping it.” He gave her a salacious look, his eyes not bothering to hide exactly what he was thinking.
“Besides, it is never too soon to start teaching the next generation about the appetites of men and pleasures of a woman.”
“On the contrary,” she said, her voice calm but edged like glass.
“They’ll grow up learning exactly what kind of man to never become—and what kind of woman never bows, breaks, or begs for vial men.
I find that a far more fitting lesson for the next generation than indulging the twisted cravings of old men grasping for relevance. ”
He smiled but there was no humor in his eyes. With a sneer he let her chin go.
Carlos crouched until his eyes met the twins’, a slow smile tugging at his mouth as the twins shrank back, clutching Yasmine’s legs.
“Come here,” he ordered, but the boys remained behind her.
He made a cluck sound and Yasmine swallowed hard. “They are defiant now, but they will learn obedience, or they will end up with the same lessons as their father.”
Yasmine’s jaw tightened. She wanted to spit at him. Instead, she angled Isabella away from his reach. “One touch and Dean will see you dead.”
His laughter rang against the stone as he stood before her once more. “Of course he will. Just as I’m sure he will if I touch you, but that is why I enjoy this game.”
Carlos leaned close, his lips brushing the edge of her ear. “Until then, they are mine to teach. And you…” His breath was hot, sickening. “…you are mine to admire and…maybe more. Maybe you will provide me with my next child.” Carlos reached out and touched Yasmine’s belly.
Yasmine jerked to the side and out of his reach. “Don’t touch me,” Yasmine threatened, voice low.
Carlos snickered, amused by her outburst. She detested that he’d finally gotten to her enough that she reacted. That was what he wanted, and she had handed it over on a silver platter.
Isabella began to cry, and Yasmine stroked her daughter’s back, whispering soft reassurances she barely believed as she fought to keep her hands steady beneath Carlos’s watchful eye.
Carlos plucked a piece of fruit from Aiden’s basket…a red apple, and pressed it into Yasmine’s free hand. His fingers lingered far too long, his smile too wide.
“Eat, preciosa. You need strength to bloom and keep that baby growing. It won’t be much longer now, and you’ll be free to conceive again.” He plucked another apple from Aiden’s basket and took a large bite the juice sliding down his chin. “I can’t wait.”
He turned and strode away, as if he hadn’t just carved a line of terror within Yasmine with every word, his guards casually trailing behind.
She didn’t dare tell Dean. This was a test, Carlos was pushing her boundaries to see what she would allow.
She felt it, and either way Dean would go right off the deep end if he found out.
Squaring her shoulders Yasmine gave the boys a smile and placed the apple back into Aiden’s basket. “Let’s get going.” Her voice was light, but it didn’t stop her muscles from shaking.
“Mama, what Grandpapa Carlos mean we his?” Tate asked and looked down at his shoes.
Touching his head, he looked up, and Yasmine hated that her young son already had worry in his eyes.
“You are not his. You will never be his, and I want you to be respectful to Grandpapa Carlos, but never…and I mean never go anywhere alone with him. Do you understand boys?” They both nodded, solemn.
Yasmine breathed once, twice, steadying herself. And then she lifted her chin. She would find a way to help Dean get them all out of here. Even if she had to be the one to put a bullet in Carlos’s head. He was never taking her children or her body.
DEAN
Carlos’s office reeked of smoke and old leather.
Dean sat at the edge of the desk, pen in hand, pretending to study the ledgers his father shoved at him.
Routes, numbers, names. It was the skeleton of the Ramírez empire spread across paper, but half of it was missing, all the important stuff.
Carlos kept it locked away. he didn’t trust Dean not to use the information against him.
Not that Dean blamed him, because he would’ve, but still…he needed it.
Dean glanced up at his father who was leaning against the window, speaking on the phone. “The warehouses burn next week, no excuses. Alvarez will learn what happens when he tests me.”
Dean’s chest tightened. Not that he knew the Alvarez family personally, but he knew Maeve. The thought of more devastation happening to her parents because Carlos wanted to expand his territory…didn’t sit right. He’d already stolen their daughter.
Dean forced his hand not to clench around the pen as he continued to listen. It was odd that his father was speaking in English. He never conducted business like that.
Who the hell was he ordering to burn the warehouse down?
“I don’t care if this is not what you normally do, I want it burning in seven days or less, that is a direct order,” he commanded, and Dean stared at the side of his father’s face.
An order?
Not how his father normally spoke. And the way Carlos kept glancing over meant he was purposely tossing a piece of information into the room to be deciphered. Dean wracked his brain as he tried to figure out who was on the other end of the call, and how he could warn the Alvarez family.
He scanned the room without moving his head. Two guards by the door. Another in the hall. One phone on the desk, another in a guard’s pocket. Cameras in the corners. All angles logged. All weaknesses waiting.
Carlos hung up, turning with a satisfied smile. “You see, Mercurio? This is power. Men bend to my will. Rivals bleed on my command. Soon, all of this will be yours.”
Dean looked down at the ledger, forcing his expression flat. “You know that I don’t want it.”
Carlos’s laugh was soft, indulgent. “You will. Blood always returns home.”
Dean’s gaze lingered on the window and the blue sky, with only a wisp of clouds. Fuck, wouldn’t it be nice to learn to fly? To just jump out the window and carry his family away.
“Besides, I just ran into you wife in the hall.” Dean held his breath but kept his expression flat.
“She seems to really be settling in. Maybe one day soon it will be the breathtaking Yasmine that requests to stay.” Dean almost laughed, but shook his head and looked down at the ledger.
He flipped a page and began reading once more.
“You don’t think so?”
“What I think is that you’re trying to goad me. What I think is that you have me doing this errand of making sure your books balance, meanwhile you already know they are fine. You say you want me to take over but won’t actually give me anything of worth to do.”
“So, are you saying you want more responsibility? Even though you don’t want to take over.”
“What I’m saying is if you’re going to torture me with boring numbers, then at least make them ones that I really should be making sure are correct.” Dean tapped the ledger. “This is useless and a waste of my time.”
His father tapped his chin with the phone. “Fine, I will give you a chance to prove yourself, but Mercurio if you double cross me…I’ll make sure you regret it.”
“Of that I have no doubt,” he mumbled, as his father wandered away.
One day soon, Carlos Ramírez would choke on the name Mercurio. And Dean would be the one to make sure of it.