Leave Me Breathless: The Black Rose Collection

by Dakota Willink

“Because he’s your father, silly,” I said, joining Dantes on the bed where he’d been posing. “So, tell me about your traditions. I don’t want to be a complete misfit.”

  Dantes gathered me in his arms and kissed me soundly, instead. I indulged in the flavor of his lips for a few moments before wiggling away.

  “I’m serious. I want to know what to expect,” I said, curling up on my side, facing him. He mirrored my position, reaching out to tuck a stray lock of my hair behind my ear.

  “Fine. If I must,” he said with a heavy sigh as though he was going to great effort to hold himself back from drowning me in his desire. “Miguel’s sister, Doña Cecilia and her five daughters have probably already begun the cooking preparation. The focal point of the meal are hallacas, which are like tamales in theory, but with major differences in the filling. Hallacas are much more elaborate. We literally make hundreds of them, so there are plenty of leftovers for everyone to take home. The hallaca assembly line is a big tradition all on its own and takes days to complete.”

  “Wow, I thought our Christmas dinner preparations were complicated. I assume all the work is worth it in the taste?”

  “They’re beyond compare. The Bolivar family’s hallacas are the best I’ve ever had. You won’t regret trying them.”

  “I can’t wait,” I admitted, growing more curious about his pseudo-family. “So, what else do you do?”

  “It’s all about family, Mia. We come together and just enjoy being one. You’ll see. I know they’ll all embrace you with open arms, but don’t be surprised when Doña Cecilia puts you to work. Even I can’t get you out of it,” Dantes said with a chuckle.

  “I can take it,” I said, burrowing my head into his chest, giving him small kisses between his pectoral muscles.

  “Preciosa, if you want to learn more about Christmas, you need to stop that.”

  “I think I’ve had enough tutoring for a while,” I said with a mischievous lilt to my voice.

  “Thank God,” Dantes sighed before rolling me to my back and covering my body with his.

  8

  Dantes

  “So, this is the girl,” El Tuerto said, pulling me aside as Doña Cecilia led Mia to the kitchen where they were preparing the last of the hallacas. I was glad I remembered to tell her to bring a set of casual clothes she wouldn’t mind getting dirty because preparing them was a messy business.

  “Yes, Señor. That’s Sheriff Bernard’s daughter.”

  “She’s beautiful. I can see why you like her. It doesn’t change the fact she’s a valuable chess piece if we need her, so I’ll remind you to keep your head about you.”

  The reminder chafed my nerves. Mia was so much more than a pawn in El Tuerto’s games, but he was capo. His word was final. I’d just have to find a way to get Mia’s father on our side before El Tuerto forced the issue.

  “You have nothing to worry about. Bernard will be in our corner before long,” I said without committing to any one method of bringing him around.

  “Then let’s go enjoy the day. Come have a smoke and a glass of whiskey with me.”

  Once we were settled in his study, the room filled with a haze of smoke and at least one glass of whiskey in, El Tuerto eyed me carefully.

  “You’re happier than I think I’ve ever seen you. Is this because of the girl?”

  “Yes, I think so. She’s an angel, Señor. She brings light to even the darkest of lives.”

  “That’s beautiful, but I don’t know if you're objective enough. You have to be careful.”

  “I know you want me to cultivate her potential to be an asset,” I acknowledged before taking another swallow from my glass.

  “Not only that, but you must guard against her father wanting to use your relationship to turn you to his side, as well. This manipulation could go both ways, and I’d hate to see you caught in the middle.”

  “You know I’ll never betray you.”

  “I do know this, but love has a funny way of changing one’s perspective,” El Tuerto advised as he leaned back in his large, leather chair and took a long puff on his cigar.

  “I’m not in love,” I protested. “I adore the woman, but I can only offer to take care of her the best I can. That means I need you to embrace her as mine, not only appreciate her as a tool. We can scare the crap out of Bernard, make him think we’d harm her if need be, but I want your solemn word you’ll never do anything of the sort to her.”

  El Tuerto scoffed, then took another deep hit, before eyeing me carefully.

  “You presume to tell me how to handle my business, Dantes?” he asked, his head cocked to the side, eyes gleaming with danger.

  “Not your business Señor, but mine. Mia is my business. Don’t make this about something between the two of us when it doesn’t need to be. I’m your man, you know it, and together, we’ll achieve all your ends, but I need your agreement, Mia is off-limits.”

  “If you weren’t like a son to me Dantes, you’d never get away with making these kinds of demands, but because you are, I respect your feelings. No harm will come to your woman, but be prepared… the time will probably come when her involvement in our plans is unavoidable.”

  I nodded, knowing I wouldn’t get anything better out of El Tuerto.

  “Now, let’s put business aside and begin the festivities, muchacho.”

  We wandered into the kitchen to pilfer handfuls of the ingredients for the hallacas to snack on. Doña Cecilia waved us off, telling us to get out of her kitchen before she took a rolling pin to us. I took advantage of the opportunity to sneak up behind Mia and give her several light kisses on her neck. She’d thrown her hair up into a messy bun and was wearing a bright yellow streak of masa, the cornmeal coating on the individual hallacas, on her cheek. She’d been given the inauspicious task of putting a dollop of the coating on the plantain leaves, then using a press to smooth it out into an even circle of dough.

  “How is it going in here, preciosa?” I asked, wrapping an arm around her waist to bring her closer. Watching her effortlessly blend with the women in my adopted family brought warmth to my chest and an even greater desire to possess her completely. It was bizarre, but I was too pleasantly buzzed from the liquor to worry too much about it.

  “It’s going fabulously,” Mia said quietly. “These women are all very kind and curious about our relationship. We’ve had a good time talking about everything we’ve done so far. Except maybe the young girl over there,” she said, nodding toward the woman tying up the little bundles, readying them to be boiled.

  “That’s Corina, Miguel’s daughter. She’s had a bit of a crush on me for years,” I whispered quietly so as not to embarrass the girl. Mia flashed a sympathetic smile at her as she tried to wiggle out of my grasp. Just then, Doña Cecilia came up and swatted me with a rolled-up length of plantain leaves.

  “I warned you! Out of my kitchen, you two! Go join the men outside at the smoker and help with the turkey. Go on!”

  Never one to cross El Tuerto’s sister, I gave Mia a quick kiss on the cheek, snagged a few olives from a bowl on the table, and followed my capo out to the back patio. We sat around bullshitting and drinking more whiskey while the bird cooked. By the time dinner rolled around, none of us were very hungry, but all knew better than to skip the meal if we valued our lives. You don’t let Venezuelan women cook for three days straight, then turn your nose up at the results.

  Conversation at the dinner table was fast and free flowing, a mixture of English and Spanish. I could see Mia growing confused, a frown creasing her forehead.

  “Doesn’t your family like me?” she asked, a worried look in her eyes.

  “Of course, they do. Why would you think otherwise?”

  “I keep catching them talking about me in snippets of Spanish.”

  I thought for a moment, trying to recall hearing anyone say a word about her, then began to laugh when I realized what was happening.

  “I told you once before that mía is also a Spanish word. It means mine. You
’re not hearing them say your name, per se.”

  “What a relief,” she said with a sigh. “Here I thought they didn’t want me to know what they were saying.”

  “Now you can see why I think your name is perfect,” I said, putting my arm around her shoulders and pulling her in for a quick kiss on her forehead.

  We enjoyed each other’s company well into the night until it was time to send the children to bed for so the Niño Jesus would visit them to bring them gifts.

  The adults made the most of the waning hours of the night, those who forewent the midnight church services, anyway. We settled in the great room with drinks, listening to the elder members of El Tuerto’s extended family and associates tell funny stories of holidays past. After a time, I excused myself to use the restroom, only to emerge to the sound of Mia’s voice floating through the hallway, coming from El Tuerto’s office. My heart sped up in fear he’d say something to scare her away.

  “We haven’t known each other long,” I heard her say as I crept closer to the open door of his office. “We met at a night club, The Underground. Do you know it?”

  “I’m afraid I don’t get out as much as I used to,” El Tuerto lied with a chuckle. He knew Sergei and his club well, even if he generally left that business to me. “Though your relationship with Dantes may still be new, you must be very special. He’s never introduced us to any women before.”

  “No one?” I heard the astonishment in Mia’s voice.

  “Not a soul. I’ve known him for fifteen years, and not once have I ever met a girlfriend or one of his dates. I almost began to think he should have become a priest,” he said mirthfully before his voice took on a more serious note.

  “By introducing you to us, he’s asking for a place in our family for you. I want to know if you take this relationship just as seriously before I accept you into our fold. Not only will Dantes protect and cherish you, you’ll be embraced by my whole family. It’s not something we take lightly. You’ll be like my own daughter. There may be times when it seems like I don’t care or have your best interests at heart, but please remember this conversation and put your faith in me. I always have my sights set on the big picture.”

  A long pause followed, so I crept as close to the door as I dared, unwilling to miss Mia’s next words.

  “I’m speechless, Mr. Bolivar,” she began before he cut her off.

  “Please, if we’re to be family, you must call me Miguel.”

  “Thank you, Miguel. I’m flattered and frankly, honored you’d consider me worthy of being part of your extended family. I take my relationship with Dantes more seriously than any I’ve ever had in my life. Between you and me—he doesn’t know yet—but I think he might be the one. It may be too soon to say for sure, but my heart tells me he is.”

  “I’m so very pleased to hear it, Mia. Welcome to my family. I expect to see much of you. Make sure Dantes doesn’t hide you away from us,” he said as I moved into the doorway, my hands in my pockets. I was touched El Tuerto recognized Mia’s significance in my life and accepted her, despite the connection with her father. I knew he wanted to exploit it, but it wasn’t without a measure of danger to the cartel if he couldn’t bring him around.

  “That’s about enough, old man,” I said with a warm smile. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to. I know you’re trying to charm my girl. Maybe you think to spirit her away from me.”

  “Ah, Dantes. If I were twenty years younger, you might have cause to worry. Mia is quite charming herself,” he said, smiling radiantly at her. “She’s a welcome addition to Familia Bolivar.”

  The words were heartwarming—it was his promise to me, he’d ensure no harm would ever come to her, not by him or anyone else who might seek to do even the smallest offense to her. I nodded to him in thanks and respect, earning a nod back.

  “If you’re done with my girl, I think I’ll take her home now and try to convince her you’re not nearly as charming as you seem,” I said, suppressing a chuckle.

  “Go, you two,” he replied, waving a hand at us both. “Go enjoy what’s left of the holiday. I’m sure you have other, special plans.”

  I stepped fully into the room and helped Mia up from her seat. To my surprise, she released my hand and stepped around the massive oak desk to give El Tuerto a hug.

  “Thank you, Miguel, for everything. I look forward to seeing you again soon.”

  El Tuerto hugged her tightly, placing a soft kiss atop her head before nudging her back toward me.

  “Feliz Navidad. I’ll expect to see you both on New Year’s Eve.”

  We made our rounds of the family, giving our thanks and goodnights to everyone. All were just as warm as El Tuerto had been, making my chest puff with pride. Bringing Mia deeper into my life was more natural than I thought it could be. As we drove home, the warmth that had been present in my chest all day spread throughout my entire body. I’d never felt such peace and contentment, and I knew it was all due to Mia.

  “Venezuelans celebrate the holidays all the way through the New Year,” I began once we were on the road. “There’s an enormous party for the adults on New Year’s Eve if you’d like to join us. It would mean a lot to me if you came. Actually, you don’t really have a choice. Miguel already said he’s expecting you.”

  “I don’t usually make plans with my family, only occasionally venturing out with Carmen. It all depends on whether I feel like I can keep up with her. I’d love to learn even more about your culture and be part of your celebrations.”

  I picked up her hand and softly kissed the back of it. It flew in the face of everything El Tuerto had warned me about, but I couldn’t help feeling the tall wall I’d built around my heart crumble just a little.

  We exchanged gifts as soon as we got back to Mia’s loft. She’d insisted we purchase a small tree so we could put our presents beneath it. I’d lavished several gifts upon her, everything from expensive handbags to a massive set of painting supplies and brushes. She flushed in embarrassment as she retrieved a small, black rectangular box with a silver ribbon.

  “This is all I got for you,” she said softly. “It was hard enough to buy just one present since you seem to have everything.”

  “Of course, I do,” I said, leaning over to kiss her softly from our seats on the floor in front of the tree. “I told you before, I have you.”

  She put the box in my hand as she beamed brightly. It made the warmth in my chest burn even hotter.

  I pulled on the end of the glittering ribbon, effortlessly untying it. Removing the box top, I was amazed at the sleek, gleaming pen inside. It was clearly expensive, and I wondered how she could afford something so extravagant. Her family was well off, but she’d confessed she’d tried to keep from taking advantage of their help too much.

  “It’s beautiful, Mia,” I said, feeling a tickle in the back of my throat. How could I possibly become choked up over a simple gift?

  9

  Mia

  The days before New Year’s Eve brought an end to the cocoon Dantes and I had wrapped ourselves in. He had work he couldn’t avoid at the club, matters too complicated for Oscar to handle. I made myself busy between a long, lackluster Christmas with my folks—my sister hadn’t made it home due to inclement weather in New Jersey—and trying to put the finishing touches on Dantes’ portrait. I didn’t see him at all for the next four days, but we spoke on the phone regularly. It was a poor substitute for his company, but I was grateful to have at least that.

  I was practically bouncing off the walls when New Year’s Eve rolled around. Dantes said Miguel had reserved the entire banquet facility at the nearby country club. His family and many business associates were invited, though only the upper ranking members were likely to show up. I took this to mean I needed to be at my most gracious and outgoing. I wanted to keep making a good impression on the people most important to Dantes.

  He wasn’t kidding when he’d told me the event would be a grand affair. When we arrived, the party wa
s already underway with expensive champagne flowing freely from fountains, and everything from thin slices of Kobe beef on over-priced crackers to raw oysters circulated through the room by waiters in sharp black and white suits. I was grateful to have found a very sexy, long, red satin dress with a plunging neckline and a slit up high on my thigh. I felt confident and alluring, capable of maintaining Dantes’ complete attention. It was a heady feeling to seem so powerful.

  “Would you dance with me?” I asked Dantes once we’d had a few drinks, and I found myself swaying sensually back and forth to the music.

  “Yes, and I promise to dance with you longer than the first time. In fact, I’ll dance your feet right out of those beautiful shoes tonight if you think you can keep up.”

  “Try me, Dantes. I think you’ll find yourself the one having trouble keeping up.”

  The challenge to his pride made, I drained the last of my champagne, then let him lead me to the dancefloor. We danced for hours, song after song. Finally, he conceded defeat, but not because I’d worn him out. Dantes explained the fireworks show was about to begin, and it was a display not to be missed. He boasted that Venezuelan New Year celebrations put any Fourth of July fireworks shows to shame.

  Slipping his tuxedo jacket over my shoulders, he led me outside to watch the display from the balcony overlooking a small, man-made lake just beside the squat, rolling hills of the golf course green.

  Skyrockets lit up the night in a riot of color—glittering golds, reds, pinks, and purples exploded one after the other, many at the same time. The sound of the explosions was deafening, making conversation impossible. The only sounds that could be heard between the persistent booms were the awed gasps and cries of the people watching.

  After about an hour of watching in rapt delight, Dantes’ hands, snugly settled around my waist from his place behind me, began to wander. I grinned inwardly when he found the slit on my thigh and discreetly curled his fingers beneath the fabric. I turned my face to kiss his cheek, noticing his breathing was picking up, the heat from it fanning over my neck. Without a word, he took my hand and led me back to the banquet room, then out onto a dark side patio.