Chapter 10
Ever since that night, each day I’ve spent with Erik has felt like mourning.
His touch still sets my skin aflame, but in the shadow of each feeling lies a bit of grief. His kisses taste like longing for something more. Even when we fuck, it’s almost always slow and sensual now. Our souls are full of sorrow.
I wish it wasn’t like this.
It would make accepting what’s to come easier.
The worst part is that, despite everything, those moments are still my favorite part of each day.
I have less than a week left on campus—six days, to be specific—when I get summoned to the attic. My fingers and toes are numb by the time I settle into the seat across from the computer. I bounce my leg underneath the desk, watching the spinning circle on the screen.
Fortunately, I don’t have to wait long before my father connects to the call.
He isn’t in his study, like he usually is.
From the light hitting his face and the sliding glass doors behind him, he’s sitting on the patio upstairs.
He looks distraught, and that worries me.
My heart hammers against my ribcage as I take in his messy hair, the lines by his eyes and the worrisome set of his lips.
“What’s wrong, papa?” I say urgently, my eyes already starting to burn. I don’t think I can handle any more bad news—not now. My mind starts to race with what it could be.
Is it my mother? Is it my sister? Is it him?
Oh gosh. I clutch my stomach.
My father heaves a sigh, slumping forward in his chair. He looks away from the camera, into the void beyond it. Though I can’t see it, I can picture the sweeping vistas that surround our ancestral home in Colombia. You can look over into Nico’s backyard from that patio, too.
Maybe that’s a silver lining. I’ll be trapped in the most beautiful place on earth.
“Are you doing okay, morrita?” my father asks.
I nod quickly, tired of the formalities. I wish he would just get on with it already. “Yes, I’m fine, papa.” Then I add, even though it is most certainly a lie, “I will be ready to leave school next week.”
My father doesn’t bristle at my words, and he doesn’t look as pleased as I expected him to be. “That’s what I’m calling about, actually.” My breath catches. “What will be happening when you fly back next week.”
A fresh thorn of panic lances my throat. I squeeze my fingers together underneath the desk, silently hoping this isn’t one of Nico’s special requests. It’s already crushing to give up everything I hold dear to be with him.
The thought makes me nauseous, and I bury my face in my hands.
“I guess I should just cut to the chase,” my father says, and I grit my teeth, bracing myself for whatever horrible ultimatum is about to fall from his mouth.
“Nico is dead.”
That’s not what I expected him to say. I blink slowly, confusion twisting my brows. Searching his face, I try to look for any hint that he could be joking, but my father was never the type to make cheap jokes like that. Especially on topics this serious.
“Excuse me, papa?” I ask, surprised at my voice. “I don’t think I understand.”
Even though I’m asking for clarification, the reality of what he has said is starting to settle in and my insides won’t stop thrumming.
My father lowers his eyes, kneading his forehead with two fingers.
“He’s dead. The men found his body last night.” My father grimaces, as if he saw it himself. “He was hanging from a tree, naked. Whoever it was cut out his tongue, and his fucking cock.”
I shudder, even as a tiny spark of hope flutters to life in my chest. It’s a gruesome, horrible way to go. But one befitting a man like Nico. My father rarely speaks so vulgarly in front of me, so I know this has shaken him up.
“What does that mean?” I ask.
What I really want to know is how his death will affect us, affect me. But I can’t come out and say it, since my father seems more distraught about this than I would expect him to be.
“Well, you can’t marry a dead man, can you?” he says humorlessly. “He had no children, and he’s the only child his father had.” My father heaves a sigh. “They’ve chosen me as interim leader of the outfit, morrita.”
“You?” I ask in disbelief. My father is a loyal, hardworking man and I doubt there is anyone more qualified than him. Yet, he doesn’t seem happy with his newfound fortune.
Overnight, he has become the most powerful man in Colombia.
He nods. “Yes. I was unwilling, but the men voted.”
I wrap my arms around myself, leaning back in the chair. My father regards me with an expressionless stare. There’s more he wants to say, I can tell.
“What is it, papa?” I ask, urging him on. “Tell me what is on your mind.”
He moves closer into the frame. “It’s convenient, morrita.” He’s whispering. “That he would die this way. Ever since I found out what he did to you, I wanted to kill him in much the same fashion.” His eyes grow hard. “Someone beat me to it.”
“I must not have been his only victim,” I say, but even I don’t believe my words. There’s nobody in Colombia who would dare kill Nico. “Do you have any leads?”
My father shakes his head. “It was a clean hit. Nobody even knows what Nico was doing out in those backwoods by himself. He even ditched his security detail.” He runs a hand over his chin. “We had yet to tell anyone about your engagement. That’s the only thing keeping the suspicion off us.”
I take in a shaky breath. My heart is beating so fast it’s all I can hear. This news is more than I can handle because every time I think about it, my mind takes me back to one person—Erik. He couldn’t have. Could he?
It’s a known fact that the lecturers here come from crime families too. But, they are tight-lipped about which, and I never gave it much thought beyond that. If this really was Erik’s doing, then I don’t know him at all.
To pull off a high-level hit like that would put him close to the top of a criminal organization even more dangerous than the one Nico led, the one my father now leads.
Even if it was a hired hit, whoever did it knew they could handle the blowback from killing a man like Nico. I can’t even fathom that kind of power.
My father’s voice pulls me out of my spiraling thoughts.
“You’re lucky,” my father says.
I give him a small smile that doesn’t quite reach my eyes. “I guess you could call it that.”
“Your mother and I planned to support you in every way we could,” he offers. “If you ended up married to that monster, it was the least we could do.”
I nod, not trusting my voice.
Even with their support, I would still be trapped in a loveless marriage with an abusive tyrant. I’m not sure how far their support would go in a situation like that. The only person who helped me is whoever pulled the trigger.
“I just wanted to give you an update,” he says.
“Thank you, papa.” The screen goes black.
I sit in the attic for a while after the call has ended, replaying our conversation in my mind. Just a few minutes ago, I couldn’t imagine a thing past the next week. I was slowly marching to my death. Now, my life feels purposeful. Meaningful.
I realize I’m crying when a tear falls to my bosom. I wipe it quickly. Unlike all the crying I’ve been doing the past few weeks, these aren’t sad tears. They are tears of joy. When I’ve dried my eyes, I pull out my phone and send Erik a text.
Was it you? I type.
He responds almost instantly. You are my favorite, Tara.
It’s not confirmation, but it makes my heart flutter. I hardly expected him to admit to murder over text. I text back, You are my favorite too. And I mean it.
When the taxi drops me off at the cabin that night, the whole building is lit up. From the road, it looks like every single light in the house is on. That’s never happened before.
I put my key in the lock and open the door cautiously.
I’m not sure what I expected to find—maybe Erik having some sort of manic episode?
Probably that would have made more sense to me than what was unfolding before my eyes.
I find him in the kitchen, dancing while he tends to something on the stove.
The smell of braising meat fills the air, and there’s a half-empty bottle of wine on the counter.
Erik is shirtless and barefoot, dressed only in his slacks.
When he looks up at me, there’s a huge grin on his face. Just the sight of him makes my heart feel whole, even though I have no fucking idea what has made him so happy. I smile back, dropping my bag at the threshold of the kitchen.
“What’s all this?” I ask him, raising my voice over the din of the fire.
“I’m making you dinner,” he says, as if that answers my question.
He turns his attention back to the stove for a few moments, flipping the steak with well-practiced movements that I didn’t think him capable of.
“We never did make it to that restaurant.” A chuckle escapes him, and it strikes me how his smile makes him look a little younger.
He should smile more. “I think I owe you a good time.”
I float over to the counter, climbing onto one of the stools. I make a V with my palms and rest my head there.
“You don’t owe me anything, Erik.” Things are already perfect as they are. “But I guess we do have something to celebrate.”
He turns to me, the glint of mischief in his eye. “Hm? What’s that?”
My eyes drift to his tattoo as I speak. Death will find me alive. "Somebody killed Nico.” My father’s recollection of his body comes to mind. Now that the disbelief has worn off, I wish I could see his body.
Erik doesn’t even feign shock. A small smile twists his lips, and he turns away from me abruptly, back to the pot he’s just checked on. “Really? So what does that mean? You’ll end up marrying his brother?” There’s a calculated calmness to his voice.
He already knows the answer.
“No,” I say, leaning over the counter. “His father didn’t have any more children. They made my father interim leader of the syndicate. I don’t think I’ll end up in any more arranged marriages.”
His shoulders shake as he laughs. “I don’t think you will either.”
I watch him as he pulls a tray of baked potatoes out of the oven and starts plating our meals.
He doesn’t say anything else, only steals glances at me as he pours the wine.
It had to have been him. Nobody else knew.
As the reality of what Erik did for me settles, part of me wonders if I should feel scared.
He killed for me.
Even if I should feel scared, I don’t. All I feel is a sense of undying loyalty to him. He killed for me when he didn’t have to. It wasn’t because of duty, or blind loyalty. It was simply because he wanted me, and cared about me too much to see me suffer.
Yes, it makes him dangerous.
But it also makes him mine, and that’s more than I could ever ask for.
Erik waves me over to the dining table. It’s the focal point of the adjoining room, a huge hand-hewn piece with live edges and a river of marble trailing down the center. I take the seat he offers me, and he settles into the one beside me.
“I hope you enjoy it,” he says with another smile.
The lit chandelier adds a warmth to his skin that makes me want to kiss him all over. His hair flops over his forehead lazily, and I realize this is one of those few moments where he seems entirely relaxed. I take a long sip of the wine.
“You never answered,” I say. “Was it you?”
Erik buys himself some time by shoveling a bite of food into his mouth. He watches me lazily as he chews, slowly drinking me in. By the time he’s finished, I realize I’m not even interested in his answer. I just want him to devour me like that steak.
“I don’t like it when you’re distracted,” he says simply. “Now that you don’t have a reason not to focus in my class, I hope you will.”
I giggle, playing along. “We definitely wouldn’t want me to be distracted.”
He rests a hand on mine, and a jolt of electricity courses through me. “I’m glad we’re on the same page, Tara.” Erik gives me a lopsided smile, before his face takes on that stony expression. He’s about to say something serious. “I can’t promise you that we will ever walk down the aisle—”
I cut him off. “Good, because I have no interest in trading one prison for another.”
He picks up my hand and presses a kiss there.
“I can’t promise you that we will ever walk down the aisle, but I can promise you happiness.
I will be yours for as long as you will have me.
” His lips linger on my skin. “I can promise you endless orgasms. I will ensure your needs are always met in every moment we share. I hope that doesn’t sound like too much of a prison. ”
I shake my head, already getting up from my chair. “No, it doesn’t,” I say, wrapping my arms around his neck. Erik picks me up, then presses his lips to mine.
He kisses me hard, crushing my mouth with a fervent passion that has me tugging at the waistband of his slacks. His hands find my breasts, freeing them from the thin material of my camisole. I roll my head back as his lips make their way along my neck.
I spend the rest of the night in worship of the man I love.
Thank you for reading Ruthless Temptation!
Tara & Erik’s story is close to my heart, and I’m honored to be able to share it with you.
Tara Garcia Vásquez & Erik Holmes return in Ruthless Chaos, a story set two years after the events of Ruthless Temptation. Keep reading for a sample of the story!