Yuńior opened the kitchen drawer and handed her a folder. “This place is all yours, Melissa. It is in your name,” he said.
“Shit balls on cracker! You bought me a condo?”
“Your apartment was less than ideal,” he told her. “There was no privacy.”
“I can’t believe the lengths you went to for us to be alone,” she told him. “We could have gotten a hotel room, but this... Jesus!”
“Don’t call on Him yet. You may want to save that for later,” he said, arching one brow.
“Oh God, you’re not going to want to do anal aren’t you? I mean, I’m no prude, but it wouldn’t be the first opening I’d want you to explore,” Melissa said.
Yuńior found himself laughing. He still laughed as he walked down the hall, pulling her along behind him. Melissa stood next to the bed, uncertain of what she was getting herself into with Eduardo Delgado Junior, and her hands beaded with sweat.
“Ed,” she said softly. “You still have not stated your terms. I mean, what do you expect from me for all of this? First the car, then you got me the permanent job at the Busy B, and you paid my tuition for the year. A man spending that kind of money means you’re gonna think you own me. You can’t own me, Ed.”
“I have taken care of you, Melissa. Is it unfair that I ask the same in return?” Yuńior said, unbuttoning the black and yellow silk shirt, the eyes of the Bocaracá, or the eyelash viper, standing out against his dark skin, the yellow scales appearing to undulate as he undressed. He’d received the full body tattoo on his 18th birthday as a symbol to all who worked for the Cartel that he was a leader. A head snake. A killer poised to strike. The son of a Czar who would take his father’s place or be given a country of his own to oversee. Seldom was the tattoo seen just like as the snake he was named after, which was native to his country. A small viper, deadly, fast and a master of camouflage.
“Explain your meaning of taking care of you,” she said as he unfastened his pants. The sound of the zipper coming down caused her heart rate to increase.
“This bed is ours,” he said, stepping out of one leg of the pants. “No other man shall lay with you in our bed.”
He stepped out of the other leg of the pants. “I will let you know a day or so in advance when I shall come to town, or I shall send you plane tickets where to meet me when I must come to New York, Miami, Chicago, Seattle, or Los Angeles,” Yuńior told her.
“I have a job and I have schooling,” Melissa said, wringing her hands together. A dull throb hit her low when he removed the underwear, his body ready for her. “What if I can’t just drop everything to be where you want or need me to be?”
Yuńior was done talking. He’d waited a year. The time for negotiations were over. He wanted what he wanted and what the man wanted was Melissa. In three large steps he stood in front of her. One finger pressed in the middle of her chest pushing the lady backwards onto the bed. The blond hair formed like a halo around a gorgeous face, the blue eyes searched for answers, and the pouty lips formed words he didn’t care to hear. He pushed her knees upwards, her feet dangling off the edge of the bed as he yanked off her sandals. A calloused hand ran up her thigh, finding her underwear and removing the garment with one hand. He grabbed the blouse, ripping it open, and exposing the small braless breasts.
“Ed...Jeez...don’t I get some kind of foreplay first...,” she said, nervous, anxious, wanting to know what he planned to do her all in the same breath.
“Melissa, will this be the first time you’ve lain with a man?” he asked.
“Well, no, but, you seem to be in a hurry,” she said.
“Yes, I am,” Yuńior said, opening her legs to view the patch of blond curls. The heady aroma drew him in as he opened the small package in his free hand, removing the contents. His eyes bore into her as he rolled the condom onto himself. One finger toyed with the opening and a small moan escaped her lips. “Sit up, Melissa.”
Doing as she was told, she sat up on the bed. “I’m in a hurry to be with you, but I would never harm you or do anything against your will,” he said softly. “Do you want this...between us?”
She swallowed hard. Agreeing to this would mean a different life for her, and walking away from him wouldn’t be a situation of her choice. She thought of Odessa Blakemore with her four beautiful children. Her mind went to Louise Blakemore sharing a life with a gay man and her husband Connard. Louise too was expecting her first child. If she accepted this arrangement with Yuńior, she knew those things would be off the table for her, but he had money and power. Life held no guarantees, but scraps just wasn’t going to keep her belly full.
“I want this,” she said, reaching for him. “I want you.”
Yuńior lowered his head, tasting the lips he often dreamed about at night. He knew he could never have the life with Melissa he wanted, but he could have this. In exchange she would want for nothing. As long as he could have these moments, it was his intention to come to her each month or as often as he was able.
As long as he was able.
AUGUST 5, 2019
“Señores, please forgive me, Papà, Señoras,” Yuńior started to say. “Irena and I have spoken. It is my intention to honor the agreement between our families. However, there are a few matters I must attend to this week.”
“You’re leaving?” Eduardo Delgado asked his son.
“Sí, Papà, for only a day or so,” Yuńior assured him. “I shall return on Viernes to sign the contract and present the ring to my betrothed.”
“Irena? You approve of this?” Señora Villareal asked.
“Yes, Mama y Papà, he is going at my insistence,” Irena said, lacing her arm into Yuńior’s. “He shall return on Friday. While he is away, I shall learn about the villages, the familial home, and more from Señora Delgado.”
Señor Villareal bellowed, “That is his job to do!”
“Actually, that is my wife’s role,” Eduardo corrected, questioning himself silently for choosing this blowhard of a man to be legally related to by marriage. “My son is a man of his word. If he and your daughter have agreed to this...Friday signing, then we shall give them room.”
“I don’t like it,” Señor Villareal said.
“It is these two who will be the man and wife, not us,” Eduardo said. “Let us respect their wishes. Mijo, when do you plan to leave?”
“Within the hour, if possible,” Yuńior said.
“Are you certain of this?” Eduardo asked for reassurance.
“Sí, Papa,” Yuńior said, cocking his head to the right a little. Eduardo knew what that meant. His son was going to Texas to see the blond woman. He didn’t care for the young lady whose head was filled with flights of fancy. Two years the relationship had continued and as much as he wanted to put a stop to it, he didn’t. His son needed this rite of passage into manhood. Yuńior needed a moment to step away from his life and enjoy the fruits of his hard work, studies and duty as a loyal son to the family and Cartel. Thus far, the young woman hadn’t made him an Abuelo, which spoke volumes. This trip could change that if she became desperate to keep Yuñior in her life. That, he couldn’t allow.
A proud father watched his son work the room before excusing himself. Irena’s eyes followed him as he climbed the grand staircase and his wife Ryanne remained quiet. Eduardo remained quiet. He clenched his teeth wanting to say more, but he would not appear weak and unable to control his house in the presence of Enrique Villareal.
“Excuse me,” Ryanne said, heading for the stairs. “I’ll only be a moment.”
She made a beeline for Yuńior’s room, tapping on the door. Tears filled her eyes, and she didn’t know why, but she worried about her oldest stepson. At 20 years old, he carried the weight of so much on his shoulders.
“Yuńior, I’m not going to hold you, but give me your phone,” Ryanne said.
“Is there a problem, Señora?”
“No, just please, hand me your phone,” she said, entering the number of her sister into the contac
ts. “I’m placing Odessa’s number in your phone should you need anything.”
“I shall be fine, Señora,” he said, thanking her as he shoved a few items into an overnight bag.
“I know. I just worry,” Ryanne said, grabbing him for a hug.
“Por favor, I shall return on Friday,” he assured her, returning the hug before heading down the stairs where his father waited for him in his private study. He knew the conversation to come and Yuńior was prepared for whatever his father had to say, but this a matter that needed handling in person.
“Give me your phone,” Eduardo demanded. “There are two things you must know before you leave these lands. First, if you get into trouble, call Saxton the Blakemore. Two, if anyone harms a hair on your head, I will decimate North America.”
“You’re very dramatic, do you realize that, Papà?”
“Dramatic?” he said raising his eyebrows, “I am Eduardo Benicio de la Marta Castanza Delgado. My name is dramatic, but I speak the truth. This woman...”
Eduardo stopped himself. He would not lecture his son. Yuńior knew his duty. He said he would be back on Friday, which meant he would return on Friday. Eduardo embraced him fully, not wanting to let him go, but this was something that had to be done. The young woman deserved to be told in person.
She wasn’t a bad sort for a first exploration into passion. In some ways he admired and respected his son’s choice for his first lover. Eduardo, through Tonda, his right hand, knew about Melissa as well as the car Yuńior had purchased for her to drive around to get back and forth to school and work. He said nothing about the vehicle, or the tuition his son paid at the university, or even the flat he bought just outside of town for her to live in. In truth, the money Yuńior spent on the woman paled in comparison to what his other son, Andres went through for clothing.
Melissa, that was her name.
Eduardo had groomed Yuńior in his image to continue the family line and business. It was a necessity that he had little time to regret. At five years old, he’d taught his son to handle a weapon. When he was but 10 years old, he’d been trained in martial arts, knife play and the use of Ninja stars. As a boy of 10 and three Eduardo marched into the venom house to choose the viper which would adorn his body eight years later, explaining neurotoxicity and more to eyes that understood. He taught him where to cut a man with a venom soaked blade in order for the poison to seep into the bloodstream for maximum impact, a trademark of the Delgados.
Yuńior was 17 when he first took the life of a man, Albertossy. Unlike his father who’d been forced to perform a similar action when he was no more than 10 years old, Eduardo handled the matter differently from his own father. The nightmares of death plagued him for years long after the act prompting him to force Yuńior into a year of mandatory counseling. Killing was one thing. Living with it was another. The last thing he ever wanted for any of his children was to take a life let alone enjoy it. They were born into the Cartel and Yuńior had never been a child.
Melissa allowed him two years to pretend to be normal. At times Eduardo had to remind himself that his son had just turned 20 years old. Most young meant that age were only beginning to discover who they were. His son already knew, or so he believed. The young woman helped him hone in on the man Yuńior wanted to become. She was a bright-eyed young thing filled with ambition to make the world a better place, but non-demanding of his son. She’d met up with Yuńior in Chicago and Seattle, and even when he went to Miami to meet with local distributors, keeping quiet and not being seen by eyes who would use her against the Delgados. For that reason alone, he allowed his son this opportunity to close the gap.
However, his son was a viper. If she took in a viper, she took the risk of it turning on her to live out it’s primal natural.
He only prayed it didn’t bite them all in the ass.
IRENA STOPPED HIM ON the front porch. She slipped her hand into his as she stared out over the green fields of the ancestors of the Delgados. If things didn’t go as she hoped they would, this would be her last time standing on the front porch with him as he received guests and dignitaries in the home, a home she wanted to live in and raise a family of his children.
“I shall be waiting for you to return,” she told him. “May I please see your phone?”
“Why does everyone want my phone?” Yuńior asked, taking the device from his pocket and handing it to her. A few swipes were all it took to open the settings and find the camera. She snapped a photo of the two of them together, then handed him back the phone.
“So you can remember this moment should you have doubts about your future,” Irena told him. “Safe travels, Eduardo Yuńior.”
“Viernes,” he said. “I’ll return on Friday and thank you.”
“Por nada, pero por favor, don’t make me regret the decision,” Irena told him. “Giving you a chance to say goodbye doesn’t mean I won’t find her and cut off her tatas over my man.”
Yuńior chuckled at the freshness of her voice. The badassness in her words spoke of her loyalty to the Cartel, to him. The threat, he knew beyond a reasonable doubt, that she meant.
“Your man?”
“Sí, Yuńior Delgado. I have decided this shall be my home. The woman you’re excited to get home to at night will be me,” Irena said. “This is where I shall raise our family. Strong sons who shall nurture this land. Beautiful daughters who will make you fight to protect them. And me, who will welcome you with open arms and fervid kisses each day before you set to work and each evening when it is time to rest your eyes.”
“You’re painting quite the picture of our life together,” Yuńior said, looking down at her and giving a full-on uncharacteristic smile. “I love the optics.”
“Hopefully, you shall learn to love me as well,” she told him.
Yuńior provided a delicate kiss to her wrist, stepped of the porch into the evening, and headed towards the plane. He would call Melissa once he was out of earshot. They needed to talk face to face. She knew this day was coming as well as he did; however, he needed time understand the emotions raging inside of him, tearing him to pieces between the man he wanted to be and the man he needed to be.
Either way, in the next day or so, he would get the answers he sought.
IRENA RETURNED TO THE house to find her father in a one-sided shouting match with their Czar. It could be grounds for death but the senior Delgado only rose as she entered the room. His eyes searched her face for answers, but her father’s booming voice filled the space.
“This is unheard of,” Señor Villareal exclaimed. “My daughter will be the laughingstock on two continents at your son’s flagrant disregard for custom. Irena, gather your things. We are leaving!”
“No, Papa,” she said, taking a seat. “He has until Friday.”
“Viernes, Tuesday, Miercoles, it doesn’t matter!” Señor Villareal exclaimed. “This insult will not stand.”
Andres, who had remained calm during all the matter, got to his feet. His stomach was rumbling, and he was hungry. If they continued to fight, the dinner would go to waste and everyone would be in a bad mood. That, he couldn’t stomach.
“Señor Villareal, it’s better this way,” Andres said. “Would you have preferred mi hermano to sign the contract then run off to be with his amante on Monday? This way, your daughter will know that when he returns and signs the contract that he chose her, not out of obligation or necessity, but by choice. No woman wants to be second choice. This way, your lovely daughter will know without a doubt she is the woman with whom he desires to share his life.”
All eyes in the room were on Andres.
“What? I’m hungry. We have all that delicious food just sitting in there getting cold,” Andres said to his father and Ryanne. “Why waste it over two people who are going to end up together, anyway? Besides, he likes Irena a lot. Did you see how he looked at the Señorita? He only gets that look when he gets a new horse or a hamburger. It’s not like Yuńior has an expressive face.”
&nb
sp; Ryanne found herself snickering. “It’s true. He also gets excited about peanut butter cookies,” she said, offering a warm smile. “Please, Señor and Señora Villareal, and Irena, your journey has been long. Come, let’s enjoy the meal prepared for your arrival.”
Enrique Villareal still did not like it. The whole scenario was unorthodox and unseemly. Five days before his betrothal, running off for one last bang with his lover. His daughter deserved better. What kind of man was this Yuńior Delgado?
Chapter Three – T is for Trouble
AUGUST 6, 2019
The green fields were mottled with workers who looked like moving ants in the late evening as the plane gained airspeed. Tomas, his father’s pilot, came over the intercom. Yuńior barely heard a word Tomas said as his fingers moved swiftly across his phone, dialing Melissa. He knew they had no future together simply because she didn’t understand the world he grew up in and was born to manage. Plus she wasn’t very good at following orders. He didn’t need to rule her, but she just couldn’t fathom the intricacies of the life he led.
At times he’d been tempted to bring her to Las Tierras, but that in itself would have created another list of issues. Explaining to the woman he’d been sleeping with for two years that she wasn’t right to be the future Lady of Lands would have been more hurtful than what he was about to do. It was time to break it off with her so he could sign the contract. Deep inside of himself, he wanted to tear the contract in half and spend long nights on sandy beaches making sweet love to Melissa. She represented everything in life he could never have.
She was fun and carefree. An ingenue, with a zest for life who reminded the heir of what life could be like for a normal 18-year-old kid dating above his station with a sexy college student. However, the dark reality of his world often collided with the pockets of light he attempted to create for them when they spent time together. A darkness she couldn’t fathom in even the simplest matters of hanging out in South Miami at a public beach. Yuńior watched her romp in the waves wearing a tiny bikini while he sat on the beach in a long sleeve shirt, pants and sandals that covered his feet. The joy of going shirtless and joining her in the water in a pair of swim trunks was not on the list for him. Eighty percent of his body was covered in a bright yellow tattoo as a symbol of the brand he represented; or a perfect bullseye, depending on who was looking. Prying eyes and cell phones would snap photos of his body and the beautifully etched image in bright citrusy colors against his dark skin. The tattoo of the Bocaracá coiled around his body in buttery hues from his right collarbone, snaking around his back, down over his left butt cheek, twisting down his leg to where the tail touched his big left toe. He was El Bocaracá, a figured head yet to take his seat at the Table of Leaders.
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