Jealous
CARLOS
The sound of raucous laughter drifts through the open windows. I can tell who it is even from my bedroom on the second floor.
My brother Edmund is the life of the party as usual, even when it’s not a party.
I smooth a hand down my black suit and the red tie—one of the few I own. Its appearance tonight is both a sign and a declaration. All my allies know the meaning.
As do my enemies.
The grim reaper only wears a tie in times of war.
I had hoped that I wouldn’t see another war, at least not for many years. The last one, three years ago, reshaped the landscape of power in South Los Angeles, setting up the Valetti family as its regent, replacing the snake, Don Alphonso.
He was a pedophile running a human trafficking ring of underage girls. He met his end with the barrel of my gun in his mouth. After, what was left of my enemies gave me the nickname—the grim reaper.
They had meant to dehumanize me, but the name had instead become legend, prophetic even.
I know what I am.
I know where I come from, and I own it.
I learned early on that no one stays in power by being nice. To keep the sharks from devouring the innocent, I had to become something terrifying that causes even the great whites to shake in fear and obey.
I had to become a monster.
The metal doors slide open, and I walk out of the elevator toward the patio, resisting the urge to see my little dove first. She needs her space, and I will give it to her.
For now.
My loud steps on the stone ground announce me. Heads turn in my direction. The smiles quickly fall from their faces, and laughter is snuffed out when they see the tie.
I stand at the opening in the long circular couch, looking around at the grim faces of the nineteen men and one woman.
“Well, shit,” Edmund says, shaking his head. “It’s that bad?”
“The Fuente de la Muerte cartel is responsible for the attempt on my life. They also killed Francesca and her security detail.” I keep my voice level and calm.
Backs straighten, lips purse, and eyes harden around the circle.
“Then it’s war,” Alfonso says, nodding. “How do we proceed?”
“We are going to attack strategically and hit them where it hurts: their money. I have a list of all of the cartel’s affiliates, front businesses, and more importantly,” I look around the circle again, “I know where they keep their drugs.”
Edmund whistles. “They’re so fucked.”
More nods.
“We’ll have dinner in the large room and talk strategy after. I just need to check with my chef—”
“I’ll go,” Edmund says, downing the rest of his whiskey in one go. “You know I need a snack before dinner.”
He leaves before I can object.
Something dark starts to brew in my chest at the thought of my younger brother being alone with Estelle, but I dismiss it with a shake of my head.
This is no time for jealousy.
*************
Edmund has been gone for twenty minutes.
My hands keep curling into fists at my sides as I walk toward the house. I try multiple times to dispel the dark clouds in my thoughts, but it’s no use.
The sound of laughter greets me as soon as I step inside, and my whole body tenses. Edmund’s unrestrained guffaws are nothing new.
Estelle’s melodic laughter, on the other hand, is something I’m hearing for the first time. The realization that I’m not the one making her laugh like that turns the dark cloud into a thick fog that consumes me.
When I push open the kitchen door, Edmund is leaning against the counter, a bag of chips in his hand. Estelle is wiping at the tears in the corners of her eyes.
She’s so beautiful.
So unguarded.
Like she was last night in my room.
“Get out,” I say calmly.
Edmund looks up, the smile still on his face. “Did I lose track of time? Your chef is delightful and—”
“Get. Out.”
The room goes deathly silent.
Ross moves first, sliding past me, face tense. Estelle starts to walk around the counter.
“Not you, Estelle.”
I keep my eyes on Edmund.
He has the audacity to smile. “?Estás celoso, hermano?” Are you jealous, brother?
My eyes darken. “No jodas conmigo, Edmund.” Don’t fuck with me, Edmund.
He lifts his hands in surrender. “No sabía que te caía bien e chef. Lo siento.” I didn’t know you liked the chef. I’m sorry.
“Go,” I grit out.
He walks past me, still with his hands in the air, intentionally irritating me.
The fucker.
If he wasn’t my brother.
I stare down Estelle, and to her credit, she stares right back with the same energy.
Lips pursed.
Eyes daggers.
“Dinner will be ready in five, Mr. Fuentes,” she says, her voice glacial.
That fucking mouth.
My steps are slow, measured, the sound reverberating around the marble and steel room. When I come around the counter, her arms fold over her chest.
“Do you like making me jealous, little dove?”
“I’m not your little dove. I’m not your anything,” she bites out.
In one step I press my body to hers, my arm going around her small waist to keep her firmly pressed to my chest.
“Let me go, Carlos.” She doesn’t fight. Doesn’t try to push me away. Doesn’t try to escape.
“No, Estelle,” I say softly.
How did we get here?
Last night she was butter in my arms, and now her whole body is tense. I can’t accept that one day could change everything.
“You agreed that this should stop.”
“I lied.”
My mouth descends on hers, and I groan at the first contact. I’ve been desperate for her.
“I’m starving for you, little dove,” I whisper against her mouth.
Her body slackens, and I press my tongue into her mouth, seeking, devouring. Her moan when our tongues touch is my undoing.
I need her.
Now.
I unzip her trousers while driving her crazy with my mouth, sucking, nipping, ravaging her.
Distracting.
She lets out a surprised yelp when I turn her around briskly, lowering her upper body over the counter and pushing down her pants along with her panties in one quick motion.
“Carlos—”
I press a hand to the middle of her back firmly. My legs spread hers open, fingers immediately going to her core.
“Tell me no, baby,” I say, toying with the piercing.
Estelle gasps, a shudder running through her compliant body.
I push in with two fingers, plunging deep, the way I know makes her squirm, and she does.
There’s no patience tonight.
No savoring.
No gentleness.
The singular desire of being balls deep in her consumes me. I undo my belt and make swift work of my zipper, freeing myself quickly.
“Carlos—”
She bristles once she feels me at her entrance. I keep applying pressure on her back with one hand while guiding my dick with the other.
I sheath myself completely inside her in one powerful thrust of my hips, not letting her adjust, not even waiting until she’s soaked.
Estelle cries out, her hands gripping the edge of the counter. I grit my teeth, eyes closing from the sheer pleasure of being inside her.
“Carlos, FUCK—”
My hips start a bruising rhythm meant to claim, not charm or romance. Gripping her ass, I plunge deep, withdrawing quickly and thrusting harder every time.
She tries to straighten.
I don’t let her.
Her moans and my groans fill the room.
Her pussy is soon soaked, her walls gripping me like a vise, begging me to stay, to fuck her deeper.
When she starts pushing back, my hand leaves her back and wraps around her waist. I bend over her , bringing my mouth close to her ear.
“You like it when I fuck you like this, baby?” I whisper, punctuating each word with a sharp thrust, keeping the rough tempo.
“Fuck—shit, Carlos—”
I press deeper.
She moans long and hard, walls spasming, coming on my dick, soaking me even more.
No letting up.
No breaks.
I pound into her until both our faces are damp with sweat. Her eyes close tightly and she holds her breath, coming again.
My little dove is going to scream for me.
I pull her upright and she sags against my chest, so I tighten my arm around her. My other hand finds her clit.
“No, too much, don’t—”
I don’t listen, fucking her even faster while roughly rubbing her swollen clit. She tries to wrestle free, tries to grab at my hand, but I’m in control.
When she comes, she screams my name.
Dark satisfaction fills me just as my own orgasm crashes through me, and I come inside her deliciously spasming pussy.
My legs lock in place to keep from falling over from the onslaught of pleasure. When my eyes open, Estelle’s head is resting on my shoulder, her body limp in my arms while she gulps in air.
I plant kisses on the sides of her face then bring my mouth to her ear. “There’s a war coming. You are going to stay here with me. Go home tonight, pack your bags, and come back.”
She goes still.
Not even breathing.
“Like hell I will.”
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