Chapter 10 Cortez
Chapter ten
Cortez
When I catch that fucking Ramirez, I’ll make sure I’m the last face he sees before sending him to hell. All we need is to discover his hideout and storm the place. With the undercutting straining this mafia, a crazed don fighting for his girlfriend is the last thing I need on my neck.
I stop scribbling, dropping the pen on one of the papers.
Our anonymous competitors are still using children.
This mafia has a policy of no innocent life being at stake, and those bastards are using it against me.
But policy aside, I’d never hurt children, not in any world and not especially after what happened years ago.
My men are still on the streets, trying to tail the kids, but they always lead back to a dead end. The ones that talk say vague things like random men giving them powder, or they lead us to an empty area.
Aside from the thought that they’re trying to fuck with me, I can’t help but think they have another motive. I don’t know what it is yet, but one with a full intention to strike doesn’t evade; they charge head-on unless there’s a strategy. A goal.
Since the undercutting started, they haven’t killed any of my men. It’s almost like…they’re avoiding a head-on battle. But this doesn’t feel like avoidance; it feels like precision.
The thought turns in my head as I swivel the chair slowly from side to side. I rub my temples, and the ache in my bandaged thigh soon brings me out of my thoughts. Then I remember her…
Her and her loose mouth.
I scoff when I recall her nervousness. Removing bullets was a basic mafia skill. I guess that’s one place where her confidence evidently falters.
The family doctor was taking too damn long to get here. Alejandro was cleaning things up in the casino. She was the next best option…even though giving a woman I don’t trust access to my injured body was a stupid move.
As usual, I didn’t appreciate her running her mouth, but I enjoyed the view of her cleavage and how her short skirt rode up her thighs. When she knelt, it took every bit of willpower not to fist her hair and bury my dick in her mouth.
But I couldn’t help the tent that formed in my pants…despite the pain from the wound.
Now there are two different aches in my lower region.
Picturing her ass in my head, I fist my hard bulge, slipping my palm inside to stroke my dick when the door bursts open. I quickly sit up, ready to wreak hell on whoever walked in on me when I see her.
She’s heaving loudly, her tits rising and falling to the rhythm. Her hair is in a messy bun, with more than a few tendrils framing her face. Her fists are clenched, and she’s looking over her shoulders with a mischievous smirk.
How did she even get past those foolish guards?
I narrow my gaze on her, about to ask her what the fuck she’s doing, when the two guards manning her door rush to the threshold, heaving like they’d run a marathon. There are streaks of red liquid on their cheeks, and they look angry.
“Boss,” one of them says. They don’t enter the office but bow deeply. I bring my gaze from them to the mischievous lady now standing before me.
“What the hell is going on?”
The sassy roll of her eyes is all the response I get as she wipes sweat off her forehead. “I want to work,” she says with boldness.
She’s asked the same question before, and I told her no. Just how persistent is she?
Her posture is rigid, and she’s wearing that same skirt that barely covers a damn thing. My jaw clenches, a hot storm brewing in my guts. She should know better than to strut around like that for every damn pair of eyes to feast on.
“Boss…if-if you’d l-let us escort her back to her room,” one of them stutters, wiping the red liquid from his eyes.
“What. Did. You. Do?” I growl at her.
She shrugs. “Just a little abracadabra that let me be here.”
My jaw tightens at the smug grin that now rests on her lips. What the fuck does she think she’s doing?
“Give me one good reason I shouldn’t let them drag you back right now.”
She freezes, then gulps, her teeth clenching as she holds my gaze.
“Because an ordinary girl slipped past two trained guards without breaking a sweat. Don’t you think, your honor, that I deserve to be heard?”
My vein pulses in anger as I drag a raging gaze to the two idiots outside my door. I’ll deal with them later…and deal with her myself. “Scusaci (Excuse us).”
One of them steps forward, shuts the door, and I turn to her. The mischievous smile is wiped off her face, determination resting in its place. I almost laugh at it. It’s like she’s in a courthouse, ready to defend whatever nonsense she’s about to spill…
“Look,” her lashes flutter rapidly as she blinks. “I need to at least d—”
“You’re naive if you think that I granted you an audience just to hear your invalid opinion.”
She scrunches her brows tightly, looking offended. “I’m here to negotiate, not stroke your overinflated ego.”
Well, there are definitely other things I’d rather she stroke.
“I don’t negotiate,” I deadpan almost immediately, curbing my straying thoughts.
“There’s a first time for everything.” Her full pink lips pull into a wry smile that spirals irritation down my spine.
“Get out,” I growl thickly.
Her eyes blaze with a familiar fire as she meets mine head-on. “Not unless you answer me.”
Fuck. Her defiance is maddening, almost driving me to the edge of insanity. I’m in no mood for this shit. I grab a cigar and lighter, feeling her intense stare as I light it and take a drag.
“Do you usually resort to a cancer stick when you’re out of things to say?”
I exhale slowly, watching her nose scrunch slightly as the smoke curls around her. “If I don’t busy my hands, Princessa, I can’t guarantee what they’ll do to you.” My voice is low and with little restraint.
Her breath hitches, and I arch a brow at the redness appearing in her cheeks. There’s a pause as pleasant silence descends in the space until she ruins it.
“Y?You won’t let me work, call anyone, or interact with anyone. At least let me roam the mansion.”
“No,” I say without meeting her gaze, taking another drag.
She squares her shoulders, eyes brimming with enough hot anger to light another cigar.
“Asshole,” she spits.
“Gladly,” I whisper dryly.
“Wicked.”
I shake my head. “Calculated.”
“What is wrong with you!” She throws her hands in the air exasperatedly. Her frustration makes me bite back a laugh.
There’s another pause as I watch her. She looks on the brink of insanity. Good!
“East wing,” I finally say, killing the cigar’s fire and dropping it into the ashtray.
She looks surprised, her eyes almost bulging out of her head. “What?”
“Roam just the east wing…at your own risk.” The words come out of my lips in a breath as disbelief crosses her expression. She can’t believe she won.
The ghost of a smirk crosses my face.
If I keep her caged, she becomes curious. Curiosity like that is dangerous for men like me. But if I give her the illusion of freedom and take it when she least expects, she’ll learn to revere authority and understand who holds the power here.
Now on to better things.
“Your dad’s pipelines,” I sit up, watching how her eyes go blank momentarily at the statement. Odd. “I need more information.”
“I don’t hear a thank you for the last one.” Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes as she cups her ear.
“You don’t get a thank you if it’s your fucking job,” I deadpan.
Slight shuffle sounds fill the room as she shifts her weight, folding her arms on her chest. I expect a snarky response, but arch a brow when I hear none. She was mouthy a few minutes ago.
“The last piece of information you gave,” I steeple my fingers, deciding to test my suspicion, “was wrong.”
For a brief moment, a tentative look flashes across her eyes before she scoffs, leaning lower to enunciate her words, “You’re lying.”
My dick twitches when I catch her nipples poking through the thin fabric of her shirt.
“You seem unsure,” I reply coolly, masking my pulsing need with a calm facade.
“Your God complex would have had you toppling down my room to unleash hell if the information was wrong,” she bites out, angling a finger at me.
The movement makes her breasts jiggle, and I slam my palm to curb my racing thoughts. She needs to sit the fuck down.
Her and her God complex jargon.
“Sit the fuck down.” My voice is strained, and I can’t help it.
She pauses, her eyes narrowing into slits. I meet her gaze with a daring one. For a moment, I think she’ll refuse when she yanks the chair.
Her breasts bounce as she plops onto the chair with such force that I’m compelled to assess her top. It’s a pink half-top with some stringy thing going around the neck.
What sort of damn clothes can’t hold two fucking titties?
“L-look, I don’t know much about his other pipelines, but I could help you get something.” She swallows.
I hold her gaze for a brief moment, then it clicks. She’s tentative because she’s scared. Either scared because she has a hand in my predicament, or because she doesn’t have answers to my questions. If it’s the latter, I wonder why. Still, I don’t trust her…not one damn bit.
“I will th—”
“You will throw me out to Ramirez. I know,” she cuts me off midsentence, gnashing her teeth and pinning me with a malicious stare. “You don’t always have to punish me by shoving it in my face, you know.”
A wicked smile stretches my lips as I lean forward, my voice dropping to a low whisper.
“Oh, dolcezza (honey), there are better ways I’d rather punish you.” I lock my lips, holding her gaze intently. “Ways that’ll make you feel every mark, every inch…every bruise and have you running back for more.”
An audible gasp escapes her lips as her chest rises fast. Time passes, and after a few seconds, she does what I knew she would. She leans in, hands curling into a fist on my desk.
“I dare you.” There’s a defiant curl on her lips, and that’s all it takes to unleash my beast.