Chapter 1 #2
“Or I’ll just run them all the fuck over,” Jameson gritted out, his hand white-knuckling the corner of the table. Tensions would always be high with us and the Ruizes. Paolo had threatened Jameson’s daughter, Franny. And we’d snuffed out everyone who was involved.
My mother’s eyes softened because she loved Franny just as much as we all did. “We are trying not to hold a whole family accountable for one man’s actions, right?”
Jameson pinched the bridge of his nose. “What Mia tells me, at least,” he grumbled like it was the only reason he hadn’t gone on more of a killing spree.
But it was also because we’d done enough damage by taking Paolo’s life. I saw how the governor’s neck tightened, how Lucille looked away.
“Strategy isn’t always a bulldozer, Jameson. We need finesse now, not more blood. Leadership is knowing when to negotiate so you don’t have to annihilate.”
My brother didn’t care for it anymore.
He put his family first, as he should.
He’d have burned the world down for the woman he loved and his daughter.
I didn’t have that, nor did I want it.
“Say I consider it—”
“What the fuck?” Jameson immediately glared at me.
I met his furious gaze. “I want to hear the whole plan before we shut it down.”
“I’m not interested in calling the president to explain why the East Coast is a war zone because we were too proud to sign a contract,” said the governor.
“I wouldn’t really give a damn,” Jameson growled, but he waved my mother on.
“I’ve spoken with Monte,” she said. “He’s offering his daughter, Maribel.
He wants the Diamonds’ protection publicized to ward off Fitzpatrick and the Chinese.
If we don’t step in, they’ll partner with Mr. Fitzpatrick, and the Chinese will turn that firearms business into a black-market armory for every terrorist cell on the coast. If we’re in meetings, have a say, we’ll keep it legal. ”
“Fitzpatrick? The fucking Chinese?” Absolutely no way was I having them take over the East Coast. “And how do we know the trust isn’t just a rumor in the wind?”
“The stake in the firearms corporation is guaranteed regardless,” Mother said. “That alone is worth the two-year commitment. We provide the protection, we take the board seat, and we clean up the territory.”
“We don’t deal in dirty business anymore, Mother,” Jameson said, his voice dripping with condescension.
“Which is why,” I said, looking him dead in the eye, “we’re going to be the ones to take it away from them.”
“You’ll agree?” My mother sounded surprised.
“Two years. No more. I’ll establish order, secure streets, and they’ll fall in line with us or die off without us. Tell Monte I’ll be there for Paolo’s funeral, and I expect Maribel to be ready.”
“Of course.” My mother nodded to Lucille, who hurried out of the room like she was going to relay the information personally.
“Mother.” Jameson leaned in and clasped his hands together. “Should we discuss how volatile the East Coast is before or after you marry off your son, because I was given security footage before this meeting.”
“What footage?” I frowned at him, but his stare held hers as if he knew she’d withheld the information.
He then reached for a remote and pressed a button for a screen to drop down. After a few buttons on his phone were pressed, we were staring at his screen up there.
I saw a small figure in the dead night approaching one of our new investment properties in New York.
“The Knight Heights Project in Hudson Yards,” I whispered, my blood turning to ice. It was a billion-dollar flagship—a sixty-story spire of glass and automated tech. It was a personal triumph of mine and a way that we were already going to gain a foothold on the East Coast.
I’d planned and invested about a billion into it, and it was currently in the final stages of interior fitting.
The small figure didn’t just circle the building. She was at the staging area of the secondary gas main, which was a temporary line used for the industrial heaters during construction. She methodically moved toward the service elevator shaft after breaking in.
“Shit,” I hissed as I realized what she was doing. In a high-rise under construction, the shaft could act like a chimney, a natural flue that pulls oxygen and fire upward with terrifying speed.
With one movement, she reached under her chin to crack her neck, a telltale sign of someone gearing up for a fight.
And that’s when I knew exactly who it was. Jasmina Ruiz.
She didn’t just throw a Zippo. She opened the valve on the pressurized gas main and tossed the flame into the elevator pit.
The screen whited out for a second as the pressure ignited. Because the building was in its “fitting-out” stage, the floors were stacked with highly flammable architectural foam and kilndried exotic woods. The fire climbed the spine of the building fast.
I swore out loud.
My brother told everyone, “We ran the plates and face recognition. We don’t have anything yet, but I’ll keep you posted when—”
“There isn’t a need to keep me posted. I know who it is.”
My brother’s head snapped up, his gaze finding mine. “I want his name. He’s dying for that.”
“She. And she’ll soon be a part of the family. Jasmina Ruiz.” I pinched the bridge of my nose, and my brother swore.
“The girl you …” He held his tongue because there were other people in the room. “She burned down a billion-dollar building of ours?”
“I’ll handle it when I retrieve Maribel.”
“Leave it to a Ruiz,” Cary, an older Diamond, grumbled. “I want them wiped off the map.”
“We’re not killing her,” I said immediately. It was a gut response, one I shouldn’t have had. My brother’s eyes widened. Even still, I held his gaze.
Something about Jasmina had buried in my bones. Something irritating and provoking but also addictive and alluring. I didn’t want her dead, but I wanted her begging for mercy. I wouldn’t bend on that.
“Then what’s the other option?” my brother asked me.
“I said I would handle it,” I gritted out. “Mother, draw up my marriage paperwork. I’ll handle the Ruizes from now on, considering they’ll be my family soon enough.”
With that, I left the boardroom, and before I could do anything else, I hit her name on my phone screen and texted her.
Couldn’t wait to start the war
until the funeral was over?
She read it. I saw that she had.
But she didn’t respond.
Fine.
Looking forward to seeing you
soon, pyro princess.