Chapter 4
Chapter four
Cortez
The flame from my lighter briefly illuminates the deep lines etched into my palm as I bring it to the cigarette on my lips. Those lines are scars from a time when survival meant bleeding and biting harder than the next man.
Power looks clean from the outside, but underneath, it’s blood, bone, and smoke.
That’s the truth I’ve known since I was a boy sleeping in alleys and waking up to rats nibbling at my boots.
I didn’t crawl out of that shit to have some faceless bastard run drugs through my city and gut my empire from the inside.
“Alejandro!”
The door flings open, and he walks in quickly, loud music blaring in before he shuts the door. He’s always stationed outside. “Boss.”
His dark hair sticks up at odd angles. I can tell our current predicament is taking a toll on him, too. Exhaling a long puff, I watch the smoke curl in the air before waving him into the chair opposite mine.
“I’ve been waiting for your orders about the girl.”
When I narrow my eyes at him, he quickly rephrases his sentence. I don’t like vague.
“Selene,” he clears his throat. “If you want me to interrogate he—”
“No,” I take another drag, seeing the slight glint of excitement in his eyes fade. Like me, his fingers always itch to spill blood. That’s one of the rare times he shows any emotions, and that’s why I picked him.
He has the brain and wits to share in my vision for this mafia. He’s the only one I trust…because he’s a mirror, a thinker with a thirst for blood. A monster I’ve trained to be a lamb when required and a lion when blood must be spilled.
He nods, bringing out his phone to scroll through.
“The engagement, Boss. We have to make it public.”
Of course.
“I suggest a picture of both of you...with a proper ring on her finger…on social media.”
An involuntary grunt pulls my jaw tight at the thought of getting a ring for her.
Then he shakes his head. “They barely get any news on your personal life. I know all media outlets will be flooded with this.”
“Get everything we need to put up the photo.”
“Yes, Boss.”
He rises and gives a curt bow before walking away. His grip is on the doorknob when it slacks, and he turns.
“How long is it going to last?” he throws a hand in his hair. “I mean, when we get all the information we want from her, what happens next?”
There’s concern in his voice—the same way it’d been the night I returned to the mansion dead drunk, trying to get over the heartbreak.
I was the don and foolishly decided one night, seven years ago, that it was best I drink the pain away…
outside, in a bar. I almost laugh at the irony.
I’ve sustained injuries, fought deadly battles, yet I couldn’t get over heartbreak from a mere girl I met at a coffee shop.
I was foolish and vulnerable. Alejandro saw that, and he protected my honor. He understood the weight of such a stupid act and covered my ass in front of the other men.
He quickly took me to my room. In my drunken state, I rambled…spilled some things to him, and since then, he’s been beside me, fighting battles and reaching for success. He’s like the younger brother I never had.
“She’s just business,” I say simply. She’s disposable, and I won’t hesitate to get rid of her.
I can almost see him release a breath of relief.
“Send her in.”
He nods, then walks out. In a moment, the heavy oak doors swing open and she strolls in like she’s not two seconds away from getting her pretty ass put on a leash.
She’s wearing black pants, flared with vertical pleating, that sway with every step she takes towards me.
My eyes zone in on her lower body when I realize the pants aren’t the only thing that moves.
Her voluptuous ass, evident from her front view, also jiggles with her every movement.
Fuck. That’s not jiggling—that’s a damn tornado.
My jaw clenches hard enough to crack bone, and I quickly bring my gaze to her face.
What sort of ridiculous apparel is that anyway?
Her mouth is set in a stubborn little pout that makes me want to punish her until she forgets her own name. This girl is going to be a goddamn problem.
Pressing my lips together, I take a burner phone from the drawer and toss it on the table, gesturing at her to pick it up.
“What’s that?” She doesn’t move.
“Are you blind, too?” I drop the cigarette in the ashtray beside me and look at her.
A light frown is plastered across her face, diluted by two strands of hair that frame her face. I quickly steeple my fingers when they start to itch to toss the strands behind her head.
“Pick up the phone.”
Her eyes narrow into slits, and she purses her lips. Somehow, I know what she’s going to say, the one word I hate to hear, and she doesn’t fail.
“No.” She releases something between a growl and a grunt. I don’t know what that’s supposed to be, but it’s amusing rather than intimidating.
Fuck. I shouldn’t be finding her amusing. My fist clenches.
“Listen carefully,” I growl. “That’s your new phone. You use this one now, and you don’t call anyone unless I say so.”
She cocks a brow at me like she’s seconds away from laughing in my face.
“How else am I supposed to update my Instagram?”
“You’re a runaway. I’m sure your social media will be fine if you don’t post anything,” I fix her with a bored expression.
Her plump pink lips part in shock, and I’m not sure why, for fuck’s sake, I feel the overwhelming urge to feel her warm mouth on my length again.
“You can’t be serious,” Selene scoffs, folding her arms under her tits. My eyes follow the movement as they press together in a way that tests every ounce of my patience.
“You’re not allowed to leave your room. You’re not roaming the mansion, you’re not talking to any staff, and you’re fucking not talking to any of the guards either.” I emphasize the last part in a primal, gritty voice, and she looks even more vexed. “Am I clear?”
“What is this, prison rules?” Her tone is pure challenge, like gasoline to the fire already burning in my gut.
“Prison?” I can’t help the amused scoff that tumbles out of my mouth. “This is hell, Princess.”
She snorts, like she’s not standing two feet away from danger wrapped in a suit and a bad temper. “You’re insane if you think I’m playing house with your goons and keeping my mouth shut.” The way she says it, all full lips and heat, makes my cock harden painfully against my zipper.
I groan impatiently and shut my eyes. When I open them, she’s in front of my table and even has the guts to plant her hands on it and lean into me.
Crazed thoughts run through my mind. I barely hear anything coming out of her mouth. All I can see is her sprawled out on this desk, fingers digging into my back while I thrust mercilessly till her reckless lips quiver.
“I will not bend to your stupid rules.”
I’m enjoying the view of her cleavage through the low-cut blouse she wears as she leans even more towards me, mouth pulled in an adamant sneer.
Mimicking her actions, I lean in, reducing my voice to a low, razor whisper.
“Oh, you will bend,” I drawl, an evil sneer on my lips. “You’ll scream…you’ll arch…you’ll break, and when I’m done with you, you’ll beg for more.”
She freezes momentarily, and I see her swallow. Fuck. My hand twitches at my side because all I want to do is grab her throat, tilt that stubborn chin up, and see how long she can keep that mouth running when she’s gasping under me.
“You don’t own me,” her jaw locks, voice vibrating with anger. Suddenly, I frown, my brows furrowing. She’s so fucking reckless, and I hate it. I could take her life with a snap of a finger if I please.
“Wrong,” a primal urge pulses beneath my finger as I hold her gaze. “Everything in this mansion is mine. The air you breathe, the ground you walk on…your freedom. And as it stands right now, you…are mine, too.”
For one savage second, we just breathe each other in, the tension tight enough to snap the air in two. I see it flash in her eyes, the furious want, the dare she’s throwing at me without saying a word.
“You’re in hell, Princessa. Don’t anger the devil.”
Let’s see how well she runs her mouth under torture.
I’m about to ask about her father’s pipelines when my phone rings.
“What?” I bark into the speaker when I pick it.
“We found one of our men dead.”