Chapter Eleven
Enrique bit the inside of his cheek to maintain a semblance of civility as his brave woman left. Barely contained violence simmered in his veins.
After closing up, Rubén settled in the chair behind his massive mahogany desk and laced his fingers across his flat stomach in a pose of tranquility and control. “Let’s discuss this rationally. No insults. No yelling.”
“There is nothing to discuss.” Villegas plopped down into one of the twin black leather chairs in front of the desk. “My daughter disgraced herself. Spat on a union I negotiated. And him”—he waved his hand at Enrique like he was swatting away vermin—“he kidnapped her.”
Enrique narrowed his eyes. “And I would do it again.”
“You goddamned son of a—”
“Enough,” Rubén barked. “With all due respect, Gerardo, this is my home. You will follow the rules under my roof.” Once the man begrudgingly nodded, Rubén scowled at Enrique. “Must I tie you to the chair? Sit down.”
Shaking his head, Enrique stomped over and sat.
His nerves itched from his toes up. What he wouldn’t do to tackle Villegas to the floor and bloody his damn nose?
After all the hell and heartache he’d put Lourdes through, the poor excuse of a father needed a lesson in fatherly love. In plain old compassion.
The Lozano jefe licked his lips. “Gerardo, Enrique sinned against you by stealing Lourdes away. He will face punishment for his actions.”
Enrique opened his mouth, then snapped it shut as his friend glared at him.
Rubén was nothing if not a fair negotiator, but the saints had better act fast if the jefe deemed Enrique’s crime of passion as unforgivable.
He could lose his friend, his home, his reputation, and worst of all—Lourdes—in the fallout.
Rubén continued, “When it comes to opposing ideals, I find it best to state each side of the argument, so there will be no confusion on anyone’s part.
Gerardo, you want a strong alliance between our families.
Jacobo and Lourdes were that alliance. Then my brother died without an heir, thwarting your plans.
Two heirs. Two sons. One to rule the Lozano Cartel; the other, the Villegases.
Your blood on two thrones. It was an ingenious play,” he admitted as the man huffed and slouched in the chair, “but it never came to pass. The best you can hope for now is to wed Lourdes to someone in my organization. If they have children, her eldest boy will be your heir.”
He turned to Enrique. “In all the years I’ve known you, Ricky, never once have you lost your damn mind over a woman.
No matter how special Lourdes is to you, sneaking around on our ally’s turf with the sole intention of stealing the Villegas princess is beyond stupid and disrespectful.
You are my second-in-command. You are above this petty, immature bullshit. ”
Shame heated Enrique’s face. Regrets? None.
“That stated, you have three options, Gerardo.” Rubén ticked them off with his fingers. “One—Lourdes will marry Enrique Briceno, who sits at my right hand. Two—Diego Zayas, who’s just my employee.”
Enrique smirked at that. An employee who deserved early termination.
“Three—forget the marriage alliance,” Rubén carried on. “I’m perfectly satisfied with the status quo between our cartels as we are now.”
Villegas muttered a curse. “But marriage... It makes everything more solid. Secure.”
“On paper, your arrangement with Zayas is sound.” Rubén drummed his fingers on his desk.
“As a senior capo with scores of men at his disposal, he would make you a fine son-in-law. However, the same stipulation applies to him—and Enrique, for that matter—that applied to Jacobo. You cannot call on him or use his enforcers to do the bidding of the Villegas Cartel without the express permission of the Lozano jefe. Zayas will always put the Lozanos first, or I will kill him myself. Same with Enrique.”
Zayas, the jefe called him. Not Diego. It was about damn time.
“If Zayas promised you anything different, he was lying,” Enrique added, scowling at the frustrated Villegas leader.
His rival had probably sworn undying loyalty to the idiot.
Anything to ensure a high-ranking marriage connection.
“He can rise no higher in the Lozanos, but as your son-in-law, he would be one step away from claiming your throne for himself.”
Villegas scoffed and pulled the ashtray on Rubén’s desk closer for the pillar of his cigar. “You could say the same.”
“True. Luckily for you, I have no desire to rule.”
“Anyway,” Rubén cleared his throat, drawing their attention, “Lourdes is your means to control Zayas, to influence my cartel.” As Villegas sputtered, his puffy face reddening, Rubén raised his hand and silenced the older man.
“I’m not blind. Nor a fool. Despite all that, another marriage alliance to strengthen our bonds is fine with me if you must have it.
That’s why I accepted your deal with Zayas, even though your choice of husbands disgusted me. ”
“Who would you prefer?” Villegas lashed out. “Would you rather I marry my daughter off to an underhanded dog? He violated our treaty in coming onto my turf without my permission.”
“A violation that I will deal with,” Rubén said. “Enrique is my family, a brother to me. He would make Lourdes a better husband than Zayas could ever dream of being.”
Villegas’s upper lip curled so high it hit his nose. “You should’ve taken Lourdes on. That’s what I wanted, Rubén. Two sons, two thrones—as you said. But then you married some woman with no connections or family ties.”
Eyes wide, Rubén drew back. “I never would’ve agreed.
You should be grateful I still think of Lourdes as my sister-in-law instead of some woman who used to sit across from me at holiday dinners.
” Irritation sharpened his tone. “That is the closest you will ever come to being part of my family unless you take Enrique for your son-in-law.”
“I tried to do this honorably, by the book, yet you refused my offer of marriage,” Enrique reminded Villegas while clenching the armrests to stay seated. “Zayas does not respect her. Love her. He would’ve hurt Lourdes in unimaginable ways. You should care about her happiness.”
“You talk like a foolish woman.” Villegas puffed on his cigar. “Only power and ambition matter. And respect. Besides, she disobeyed me. Humiliated me. Sooner or later, she will do the same to you, Briceno.”
The man’s harsh words landed like spit on Enrique’s cheek.
A shudder rolled through him. “She stood up to you. There’s a difference between willful disobedience and claiming her human rights,” he bit out as the old man gawked.
His heart pounded, his stomach twisting with nerves.
“I expect strength in my wife. Do you want a weakling to mother your future grandchildren? As her husband, I will protect her and honor her family name.”
“Honor? Bah, you’ve already disrespected me. My entire organization.”
“And I sincerely apologize for that. However, consider it proof of how far I will go to secure Lourdes’s future along with my association with your great cartel.” Enrique layered on the praise through gritted teeth.
Villegas stroked his mustache. The gears in his head turned as his eyes darted about in their sockets.
His shoulders rose, then fell. “Fine. She’ll marry you.
” He stalked over to the conference table, grabbed the folder, and tossed it on Enrique’s lap as he sat back down.
“I want a new contract,” he told the Lozano jefe.
“We’re in your territory, so you or Briceno should handle it. ”
“Of course.” Rubén bobbed his head.
Gnashing his teeth, Enrique flipped through the marriage agreement, willing it to change under his glare.
It was standard enough—an iron-clad prenup ensuring financial boundaries, particularly Lourdes’s trust fund that would remain hers, though she couldn’t touch it until she was thirty; the expected vows of support and fidelity, which Zayas would probably break before the year was over; and even a clause requiring obligatory appearances at social and political functions.
The section on heirs outlined the expectations with clinical precision, but the termination clause stopped him cold.
If either party backed out before the wedding without mutual consent, the offending party would owe the injured half a million dollars. And if the marriage collapsed later? The penalty tripled.
Half a million. Cristo. This wasn’t just a contract.
It was a financial chokehold, a binding agreement that turned Lourdes’s freedom into a price tag, her future into a commodity.
No wonder Villegas had refused to break the arrangement with Zayas and let Enrique marry Lourdes when he was the better option.
“I’m not paying that.” Villegas smirked at him. “You want her? Pay up.”
Cheap bastard, he inwardly spat and jumped to the last page.
The heavy, bold scrawl of Villegas’s and Zayas’s signatures burned his retinas.
Right below it, Lourdes’s cursive, jagged script mocked him.
Her name, black on white, in agreement to marry Zayas.
Under duress, she had claimed. The crudeness of her handwriting proved it.
He clutched the pages so tight they crinkled.
Lourdes hadn’t wanted this; the debt shouldn’t be hers.
Tempted to argue and prove the invalidity of the document in court, he bit his tongue. There was no time.
Her safety—her life—was worth any cost.
“Consider it done.” Enrique righted the folder and handed it to his boss, who set it aside.
“I’ll contact my lawyer and get a new contract underway,” Rubén said. “Do you want it to state the same conditions, Ricky?”