Chapter 2
Ernesto
Alejandra Sofía Carrillo.
The name tastes like smoke and hidden fire on my tongue.
She isn’t the usual Ofrenda found in the hushed velvet-lined walls of El Santuario.
The women found lurking behind these walls are either broken by the time they’ve reached this place or so hollowed out by greed they’re nothing but decorative shells of themselves dressed in lingerie and makeup.
But Alejandra is different. She’d looked into the mirror with terror yet pure, unadulterated defiance that made my blood hum. Yes, far different from them. They trade their souls and bodies for selfish reasons, while this Palomita trades her soul to save a condemned man and an ambitious boy.
It’s concerning to me how a soft brush of her skin against mine has my body still humming from the brief contact. I need to remind myself she’s a simple transaction, a million-dollar debt paid to ensure she becomes whatever I require of her.
And yet, I can’t help feeling a sense of satisfaction–or pride– at the way she’d flinched, but quickly squared her soft shoulders, and stared me down. The look in her eyes told me all I needed to know. She would not be a simple conquest.
The heavy oak door groans on its old hinges, but I don’t look up. I know the rhythmic, polished steps of Lachlan Barclay, also known as El Heraldo, all too well.
“The car has cleared the perimeter,” Lachlan says, his voice cutting through the silence of the room. He doesn’t move from the door, just stands among the shadows. Darkness calls to darkness, I suppose. “She’s on her way to her house, and the driver was instructed to wait outside for an hour.”
I take a slow, deliberate sip of my drink. The heat of the agave scorches my throat, helping to keep me grounded to this moment.
“Good.” I rasp out. He’s not leaving, interesting. What’s got your britches in a bunch tonight?
Finally, Lachlan shifts, the fabric of his expensive suit rustling, as he steps forward. His first mistake.
“Ernesto, we should discuss the long-term logistics of the contract you’ve just set.
Typically, when an Amo claims an Ofrenda of this caliber, the transaction is…
swift. A secret getaway for the weekend or even perhaps a week of intense service before the contract is satisfied and the debt is considered paid.
” He pauses, his silhouette becoming more visible in my peripheral as he takes a few steps closer.
“The permanent contract you secured for Alejandra has only been done once in the history of El Santuario. I don’t need to remind you how bad that ended.
What exactly are you planning to do with her? ”
Mistake number two.
I stare into the amber liquid and let the silence stretch, making the room feel thick and full of pressure. The leather chair creaks as I settle deeper, my leg crossed over my knee, and out of the corner of my eye, I see Lachlan shift anxiously.
“Let me make one thing clear, Heraldo,” I say with clear indignation, “You work for me. I do not answer to you. You are alive and safe because of me. So, think very carefully before you even think about questioning anything I do, and what I decide to do with my property is none of your business.”
“I’ve been the Herald for this place for years now.
I’ve brokered deals that would make most men sick, and I’ve done it with a smile.
I do it because the Damos name carries power, but it doesn’t deal with innocent lives.
I have never seen an Ofrenda like Alejandra.
She didn’t come here out of vanity, she came out of desperate, sacrificial love. ”
Mistake number three.
I finally look him in the eye, and my gaze knocks him back.
“If you want to remain El Heraldo of this establishment, and under my protection, you'll keep your mouth shut and your opinions to yourself.”
My words don’t have the effect I wanted on Lachlan because instead of his usual flinch, he steps further into the room, his jaw set.
“Since the day I stepped foot on your territory, I have been more loyal to the Damos name than I was to my own blood. But I am warning you, if this turns into something…grotesque or puts Alejandra’s life in danger, I will break this contract myself.”
“You would put your own life at risk for this woman that you don’t know?” I question him.
“I won’t watch you break a woman like her just because you can,” he counters.
The glass hits the side table with a crack so loud it sounds like a gunshot. Within seconds, I’m on my feet and closing the distance between us in three long, predatory strides. I stand half a head taller than him, my frame casting a shadow that swallows him whole.
“All of a sudden, you think you’re some bitch’s protector?” I rasp, low and dangerous. “You’re far from being anyone’s guardian angel, Lachlan. Last time I checked, angels don’t get chain fucked in the Patron’s bathroom by the Amos.”
Lachlan flinches. Gotcha, Cabron.
I step further into his space, forcing him to crane his neck.
“Everything about Alejandra belongs to me now. Every breath she takes, the steps she makes, and if I want to use her to my liking, then I fucking will. Let this be your first and final warning, Lachlan. Do not cross me again, or I’ll make sure the only thing your sister gets for your funeral are those pretty little blue eyes. ”
I lean closer into his face, my eyes locked onto his tense features.
“You have some big talk about debts being ‘washed’. You’re a fucking fool.
Her father’s cancer isn’t going to be cured because I wrote one check.
Treatments, medications, and doctors will be ongoing.
Oh, and don’t forget, her brother’s tuition at Stanford.
That’s four years, maybe even more, of Ivy League bills.
” Lachlan's eyes widen, he’s finally grasped how deep this runs.
“I didn’t just buy her debt. I bought her family's survival, and if she wants to keep her family alive, she will do exactly what I demand of her, for as long as I want.”
Lachlan’s face pales, and his breath stalls under my gaze. He tries to scan my eyes for a bluff he won’t find. El Heraldo is a broker of bodies, but this time he bartered a pure soul.
The silence is broken by my phone vibrating on the table behind me. I don’t break eye contact with Lachlan as I move back towards the table and pick up the phone, glancing at the screen.
Matthew Cross.
I swipe the screen to answer the call and put the phone to my ear.
“Speak,” I command.
“We have a problem. And by we, I mean you.” Matthew’s voice comes through, devoid of its usual lawyerly fluff. “Casimiro made a move. He filed a formal motion with the Sol Industries board ten minutes ago. He’s calling for an emergency vote for your removal as CEO.”
I feel a hot surge of anger travel through my body. My fucking backstabbing uncle.
“On what grounds?”
“Your probate period ends in two days,” Matthew says.
“The clause in your father’s will was very specific.
You had five years since the day of his death to marry.
If you don’t find a wife in forty-eight hours, Casimiro will take full control of Sol Industries.
He’s gunning for the entire Damos Empire, Ernesto. All of it. Including Puerto del Sol.”
I look to Lachlan, stone still where I left him, eyes trained on the carpet now. Behind him, my assistant Felipe appears in the doorway. The pieces on the board are shifting into place in my mind. The move was aggressive, but Casimiro underestimates me. He’s brought a knife into a gun fight.
“Let him file his motion,” I tell Matthew, my voice completely smooth like cold silk against hot skin. “He thinks he’s beaten me, but he’s the one hanging himself on his own noose.”
“Ernesto, we don’t have enough time to vet any potential wives.”
“I don’t need to vet anyone,” I say, my gaze narrowing on Lachlan as I smirk. “I’ve already found the perfect answer to the problem. Have the paperwork drawn up for a legal union, and meet me at my office in an hour. I’ll email you the details.”
I hear Matthew’s voice raise a question, but I end the call before he finishes the sentence. The room is silent once again as I stand facing Lachlan again. The room feels smaller, more charged.
“Felipe.” I bark. My assistant steps forward, his eyes already searching my face for instructions.
“Call a driver, there’s been a change of plans.” Felipe nods and turns, walking out of the room with a clinical efficiency that makes him invaluable.
I turn to the couch and pick up my suit jacket, picking up my glass and shooting back the last bits of amber liquid still in it.
I make my way past Lachlan, but before I exit the room, I stop at the threshold and look back over my shoulder.
His back is still to me as I say, “You want to know what I plan on doing with my Ofrenda?”
He’s standing so still, you would think he was a statue if it weren’t for his rapid breathing.
“I’m going to make her the next Mrs. Damos.”
Lachlan’s breathing stops, and he turns quickly, almost tripping over himself. The color he had left on his pale face is all gone now. He looks ashen and sick from my words.
“You can’t,” he whispers, his voice shaky and trembling. “Ernesto, please,” he begs me. “Having the Damos name is a death sentence on its own. You’ll ruin her. It’ll strip away everything she is until there’s nothing left but a name and life she didn’t ask for.”
I turn and walk out of the room. Turns out my little Ofrenda is getting much more than she bargained for as well.