Chapter Fifteen
“To the bride and groom.” Rubén raised his champagne flute from the head of the dining table. “May your union be the start of something solid. Not perfect because nothing ever is. But real. Strong. Your future is whatever you make it.”
Enrique clinked his boss’s offered glass as his friends and associates cheered and clinked glasses around the table.
The men’s tuxes and the women’s dresses were far too fine for the ceremony they had witnessed.
His future—the business of the day. Marriage.
Strengthening relations between the Lozanos and the Villegases.
Further infuriating Zayas, who would strike next only the devil knew when.
When Rubén had suggested the prior evening that he wished to throw Enrique and Lourdes a celebration dinner at the Lozano hacienda, Enrique had been shocked.
After all the trouble he’d caused, he certainly didn’t deserve the kindness, but he should’ve known his best man would plan something, especially since the bachelor party ended in disaster.
The dark cloud hanging over him urged him to hit the streets that very minute and hunt Zayas down with all the force of an exterminator preying on vermin.
Zayas was exactly that—vermin. Stress lined the eyes and lips of each person around him, except for little Sera, who couldn’t stop grinning at being included in an adult event.
They all knew what was at stake. The shooting at La Paradoja was the tip of the iceberg.
“Gracias, Rubén.” Lourdes sipped her sparkling champagne and smiled at each member of the wedding party. “You have no idea how grateful I am to be here. Please know your support means a lot to me.”
Enrique clasped her hand under the table.
Shadows clouded the happiness in her eyes.
This was her wedding day. She should be glowing so bright that only the thickest black sunglasses on the market would protect him from her radiance.
Something deep and primal twisted inside him. He loved this woman so damn much.
“You will always be my sister, Lourdes,” Rubén replied formally and rested his hand on his wife’s arm. “Do not be a stranger, all right? Drina and I hope you visit often.”
“Hear, hear!” Drina chimed in and lifted her glass in another toast. Apple juice sloshed toward the rim.
The rest of the table laughed.
Enrique grinned, eager for the evening to conclude so he could take Lourdes home and strip off her curve-hugging gown.
Their tryst in the limo had sated him for all of five minutes.
Though he knew Lourdes had seduced him to avoid the conversation of having children, he didn’t mind.
How could he when she ravaged him so thoroughly?
Dragging in a deep breath, he eyed the desert and ocean paintings that hung on the dark walnut-paneled walls, the artwork a mockery of the medium compared to what his bride could do.
A spread of steaming bowls, platters, bread baskets, and open bottles lined the burgundy table runner in a smorgasbord fit for a king.
The savory aroma of grilled asparagus, creamed corn with peppers, garlic mashed potatoes, and a steak fillet the size of his fist wafted from his plate.
Stomach grumbling, he dug into his food.
Dios mío. His mouth watered at the potatoes.
More than pleased with the nontraditional wedding fare, he couldn’t have picked anything better.
Pascha, Rubén’s housekeeper who doubled as the head chef, and her sous-chefs had outdone themselves with the hearty meal.
“Where are Jesús and Zacarías?” Manuel Pedroza, Carlota’s husband, asked as he scraped his knife on the white-bone china to cut up his steak. The overhead light glinted off the grease in his slicked-back hair. “I’m surprised they missed the wedding.”
“Jesús is in Venezuela.” Enrique sipped from his flute. His taste buds danced with the crisp golden nectar. “He’s negotiating the purchase and transport of some bricks.”
“Like clay bricks?” Sera piped in from beside her mother and set her glass of juice aside.
“Not exactly,” Enrique hedged. The marijuana bricks would fetch a fine price once sold off on his home turf and in the States. Yet the child didn’t need to know that.
“It doesn’t concern you, honey. Eat,” Rubén instructed his daughter and nodded toward her plate.
She huffed and grabbed her fork.
Enrique grimaced. While Sera knew her father was the leader of the cartel, she didn’t know what that entailed.
Even though he’d issued his subordinates a standing order to take any street kids that they found who were under the age of thirteen to an orphanage, he knew from personal experience how fast a child could grow up under the right circumstances.
“Zac is in Vegas,” Rubén stated and sliced his steak. “The grand opening of our new casino is this weekend, so he’s handling the last-minute details. Neither he nor Jesús could cut their business short to attend the wedding.”
“Ah. That makes sense.” Manuel stuffed a bite of steak into his mouth and chewed like he hadn’t eaten in days.
“With that fuckhead Zayas acting like he’s the first man in history to get jilted, I thought they would get their asses on the first plane home.
They’re your goddamned councilmen. One capo going rogue makes us all look like shit. ”
Drina pursed her lips as her daughter’s eyes bulged.
“Language,” Carlota whispered to her husband and nudged his arm.
He frowned at her, then winced and held up his hand at the others.
“Sorry about that. My boys are used to my mouth.” He swung his gaze from Rubén to Drina and back again without glancing at Sera.
“Girls are more delicate, I understand. Have you considered boarding school, Rubén? Manny and Roberto are thriving in California. I could give you the number of their school’s admissions office. ”
“Thank you, but no. Sera is staying with her family.” Rubén rested his hand on Drina’s arm again as she fisted her fork so hard that her knuckles paled.
Once she laid the utensil on her plate with a sharp clank, he released her.
“Have you considered bringing your sons home? I know Carlota misses them,” he shot back.
Manuel shook his head. “It’s different for boys. The best way for them to grow up is without their mother babying them. Carlota babies.”
“They’re only five years old,” Carlota bit out through clenched teeth.
“My mother never babied me when I was five.” Manuel narrowed his eyes at her. “After the stunt you pulled yesterday, no more back talk. I’m not in the mood.”
Lips twisting, Carlota stirred the food on her plate.
Stunt? What the hell was the bastard on about?
Tension coursed through Enrique and hung over the diners like a swinging pendulum.
The Carlota he knew wouldn’t have backed down so easily, but years as Manuel’s wife had tempered her flame.
If only the glare Rubén now leveled at his brother-in-law would shut the man up.
Or better yet, burn him to ash. Rubén wanted Manuel dead—that was no secret among their tight-knit group of friends—but killing him would plunge them into war.
Manuel’s cartel leader cousin, one of the Lozanos’ allies, would surely take offense if Rubén slaughtered the prick.
Sera frowned, smart enough to read the room, and scooted her chair closer to Domingo. She grasped his much larger hand, freezing his other one in mid-air.
“Uh, I need my hand, Sera.” Domingo’s eyebrows dipped low over his eyes. Once the corn on his raised fork landed back on his plate, he slid free from her hold and shifted away.
“Careful, D,” Santiago drawled and drained his glass. A gleam lit his eyes. “Wedding bells are ringing.”
“Screw you.” Domingo shoveled food into his mouth.
Sera sighed dreamily, still staring at the poor man.
Enrique grinned as Rubén pointedly focused on his meal, refusing to acknowledge his daughter’s brazen crush.
Lourdes and Drina laughed while the latter pulled Sera’s chair back to where it belonged with a screech of the feet against tile.
“Speaking of more wedding bells,” Manuel said and swirled his drink, “my sister Malena is getting married in December. It will be a traditional Catholic ceremony as befitting her station. All of you are invited, of course. She’ll send the invitations in the coming weeks.”
The man’s jab rubbed Enrique’s nerves raw. Befitting her station, right. His and Lourdes’s unorthodox wedding and private dinner went so far against custom that it wasn’t funny.
Lourdes pressed her lips into a mulish line, catching the veiled insult as well.
“I want to thank you again, Rubén. You and Enrique,” Manuel continued as though he was granting them the great privilege of receiving his praise. “For protecting Carlota last night.”
Rubén nodded once, still eating.
Manuel cut his gaze to Carlota. “Of course, I wish you hadn’t gone in the first place. Your bodyguard told me it was your idea to drag everyone to that club. Just like a damn woman, going where you do not belong.”
Carlota choked on a bite of asparagus and washed it down with her drink.
“Carlota didn’t drag us anywhere.” Lourdes’s sharp voice rang out like a blast of gunfire.
Since Carlota was between her and Manuel, she leaned across the table to scowl at the stout man.
“We chose to go to La Paradoja by mutual consent and had a wonderful time at first. Then the shooting happened, and everything was chaotic. Carlota stayed strong and kept a level head. That’s more than I can say for half the men who were there. You should be proud of her.”
Enrique let out a slow breath. As everyone gawked at Lourdes, he lifted his chin and smiled. Though Carlota and Drina had railroaded Enrique’s and Ruben’s complaints about going, and Lourdes only enjoyed herself on the dance floor, he wasn’t about to correct her.
Manuel blinked and drew back his shoulders. “I didn’t mean—”