by LP Lovell
Samuel clears his throat, and Rosi turns away with a throaty chuckle. Fuck, I’m losing my cool. Maybe having Anna here wasn’t a good idea.
“Shall we do dinner?” Samuel cuts through the tension.
Nodding, I follow Ricardo out of the room and into the dining room next door. Several men stand silently against the walls, both Ricardo’s and mine. Such is the way of these things. Carlos stands near the door, and for once his ball cap and hoody are missing, much to his disgust. He’s still wearing a t-shirt and jeans. It was the best I could do.
Anna’s eyes lock with mine for a second as I pull out her chair, then take a seat beside her. I’m supposed to be lending her support. Instead, she’s keeping me grounded in the way that only she possibly can.
Ricardo sits across from us, his woman sitting beside him. He’s a middle-aged guy, but he’s every inch the cartel boss, with that hard, implacable edge to him. I may run Juarez, but he runs Tijuana. Juarez is a wild animal, but Tijuana is a concrete beast, hard to hold, requiring sacrifices of blood on a weekly basis. Ricardo rules because he is ruthless, but we have always had a very mutual understanding, an alliance of sorts. Alliances are the foundations of all great empires after all.
The woman next to him is his predictable type. Long dark hair, tits bursting out of her too tight red dress, face full of makeup. Ricardo has been known to dabble in slaves, so she may even be bought, but she looks well taken care of. A whore and a slave are not the same thing.
“I didn’t catch your name,” Anna says to the woman.
She looks at Anna, then Ricardo, then Anna. “Rosa.” She makes it sound like a question.
Anna smiles, and that little thrum flitters through my chest. It’s that fucking purity that radiates from her. The simple need to ask a girl her name because she cares. She doesn’t belong here in this room with sordid criminals and cheap whores.
Sam clears his throat and instantly starts talking business. My attention is split between the conversation and Anna’s small hand on my thigh.
“You have something I want,” Ricardo says.
I snort. “No, I have something you need; the use of my port in La Paz. And you have nothing I want in return.”
Ricardo leans back in his seat, eyes narrowed even as a small smile covers his face. “Every man wants something, Rafael.”
Samuel laughs. “He has everything he wants.”
I brace my elbows on the table. “This is where you offer me something, a baited hook if you will.”
“I may have something…”
The wait staff bring plates of food to the table, and all talk of business pauses for a moment. Courses come and go. Liquor flows, though I only have two glasses. Ricardo has considerably more.
“I’m just going to the bathroom,” Anna whispers in my ear, pressing her lips to my cheek before she stands. I catch Carlos’ eye and nod at him to follow her. I don’t fucking trust Rosi’s men. I don’t particularly want to be in this house, but his offer to trade was not something I could pass up. Truthfully, he has something I want, but I’m not about to tell him that because it’s not something I think he’ll willingly give up. I need him desperate, ready to give me anything.
“Where did you buy that one from?” Ricardo leers, his eyes on Anna’s ass as she walks from the room.
“I’m starting to think you have a death wish, Ricardo.”
He throws his head back on a deep rumbling laugh. “Careful, Rafael. You’ll show a weakness. Such a fatal thing to men like us.”
My pulse is pounding against my temples. One flick of my finger and his men will be dead. I could put a bullet between his eyes before he even registered the carnage. The hard outline of my gun presses against my back, begging me to pull the trigger, to watch him bleed all over the pristine white tablecloth.
“There are three things a man should always respect: his God, his business, and his woman.” I stare at him. “And if another man disrespects this… well, such things are fatal to any man.”
He stares back at me for long moments. “Lets talk business.”
The tension in my spine eases somewhat, dissipating further when Anna retakes her seat beside me. I don’t like not having eyes on her with this many strangers in the house. I start to stand immediately. “We’ve established that you really have nothing to offer me. You want to run shipments through my port, which always carries great risk. The more blow I run through it, the more the DEA try to fuck me, as you know.”
He tips his head back. “What do you want? We both know you want something, or you wouldn’t have accepted my invite and wasted your time. Cut the bullshit.” I lift my glass to my lips and take a slow sip, enjoying his bristling impatience.
“Twenty percent.”
He lifts a brow. “You want twenty percent of the shipments. That’s ridiculous.”
“No, I want twenty percent of your entire business.”
He laughs. “You’ve gone loco, my friend.”
“Use of my port would see your business grow by forty percent in the next five years. So, even if you lose twenty, you’re still gaining twenty percent more than you currently have. That’s a huge growth rate.”
He narrows his eyes at me. Ricardo may be violent and blood-thirsty, but he’s just a glorified soldier. To hold his city he needs only fear. I have learned to be a businessman. Violence is not enough to hold a cartel because no matter how strong you are, there will always be someone more ruthless, with more men, more guns. I choose to have most of my battles like this, over a table with hard numbers and strategic deals.
He scrubs a hand over his jaw. “You want twenty percent of all my revenue.”
A smile pulls at the corners of my lips. “No. I just want one client who makes up twenty percent of your cocaine trade.” We both know that cocaine is not his entire business, but this isn’t about business. This is fucking personal.
His eyes narrow suspiciously. “Which client?”
“The Sinaloa.” Anna stiffens beside me, and I shift my arm along the back of her chair, threading my fingers through her hair at the base of her skull.
Ricardo’s expression morphs into an icy mask, and he shifts in his chair uncomfortably. “You want to take over their supply?”
“Something like that.” Dominges is a lazy fuck. He chooses to buy his blow and make a reasonable profit rather than make it for potentially twice as much gain. His main business is women. Cocaine is like an obligatory sideline, though he still supplies most of California. Rosi will sell to him because it’s easy money. He doesn’t have to get it out of the country, and he doesn’t supply Cali, so it’s a win-win. Outsourcing his blow is about to become a costly mistake for Dominges. I can see the wheels turning in Ricardo’s mind. Processing it. Really, it’s a good business move. He’ll have all that extra blow to sell at street value rather than the cut-rate he’s undoubtedly giving the Sinaloa.
He blows out a long breath. “I’ll need to discuss it with Dominges.”
I take a cigar from my inside pocket and place it to my lips, clicking my lighter open. There’s a beat of silence as I inhale a stream of thick smoke. The lighter snaps shut with finality. “No. Speak to him, and the deal is off the table.”
His expression pinches, the lines at the corner of his eyes sinking deep. “What the fuck are you trying to get me into, Rafael?”
“That’s none of your concern.” I flick ash into my empty glass. “You are at a crossroads, Ricardo. You can make your business bigger, better. You can cut some ties, while solidifying others. Alliances…” I shake my head. “So important in our line of work.”
“You know Dominges also owns a port.” He cocks a brow, and I laugh.
“So do you, but San Juanico, like Tijuana, is the main shipping route between Mexico and California, as you well know. He loses more drugs than he gets through each month.” I shake my head. “Sloppy business. You and I know better.”
“There are always risks. You’re running to Miami for fuck’s sake.”<
br />
I only smile. I never lose shipments because I fucking own everyone, and I certainly don’t sail my shit right up to Miami. What is it they say—go in the back door?
“Naturally.” We stare at each other, and I can see him buckling, grasping at straws under the desperate drive of pure greed. This business gets you like that. No matter how much money you make, you always want more. No matter how big the empire, they want it bigger, and that is a mistake. Spread yourself too far, and you get thin. Security is not what it once was. It’s harder to get people in your pocket. Yes, greed and power go hand in hand. And Ricardo Rosi wants more, more, more. Enough to give me what I want. He knows it, and I know it.
He huffs out a breath. “I need a few days.”
I lift the cigar to my lips and inhale until my lungs ache. “You have twenty-four hours. And remember, you are not the only one who wants that port.”
I stand, offering Anna my hand. She takes it, and I pull her to her feet.
“Why do you want to supply Dominges?” she asks once we’re in the car.
“Because I owe him a debt of retribution, and nothing wounds a man more than losing control.”
“So you intend to pay that debt by controlling his drugs?” I smirk, and realization crosses her face. “If you then don’t supply him, someone else will.”
“I intend to do nothing. For now. I will bide my time until the opportune moment. He’ll be completely unaware that it’s me supplying him until the moment when I cut his legs out from under him. Could he get another supplier? Of course. But that much cocaine takes time to get a hold of. It will come too late, and he will lose his California clients.”
“Don’t go starting a war.” She chastises me like an errant child.
I laugh and grab her waist, pulling her into my lap and wedging her between my body and the steering wheel. She no longer tenses when my hips press the insides of her thighs. Trust: so tentative, like a fledgling bird getting ready to take flight. The breeze has caught young Anna’s wings, and soon she’ll jump, I can feel it. The material of her dress creeps up her legs, but she doesn’t seem to notice.
“Dominges started a war the second he came for you, avecita.”
She grips the front of my jacket in both hands and closes her eyes on a long breath. “Don’t start a fight for me. Please.”
I trail my fingertips over the soft skin of her cheek, her jaw, and then the elegant column of her throat. “This isn’t about you.” It’s all about her. “It’s the principle that he broke into my house and took something of mine.”
She lifts one delicate brow at me. “Something of yours?”
“Mine, avecita.” I grip the back of her neck and bring my lips to her ear. She trembles in my hold. “You are mine.” My lips brush below her ear, and a shaky breath leaves her as she tilts her head to the side. Smiling against her skin, I graze my teeth over her throat. The scent of her hits me hard, fogging my mind, distracting me from anything that isn’t her. So innocent, so pure, and yet so very dangerous: my little warrior.
“That’s still no reason—”
I meet her gaze. “It’s all the reason I fucking need. He’s shown that he’s willing to overstep. Therefore, I will place myself ten steps ahead of anything he might do.” She stares at me for a second, and then just nods, probably because she knows she won’t win this.
“Okay.” She shifts away from me. “Are you done with…this?” she waves a hand through the air.
“This?”
“The macho stuff.”
“For now.”
“Oh, good.” A small smile touches her lips before she extricates herself from my hold.
When we get home, she heads straight for the stairs, that dress riding just a little too high on her thighs and her hips swaying with just a little too much attitude. Little warrior indeed.
I follow her up the stairs, that damn hemline teasing me with every step. My pulse pounds hard, sending heat firing through my body in all the wrong places. God, she has no fucking clue how gorgeous she is. I’m so transfixed by her, that I don’t register she’s stopped walking until she turns to face me. She’s standing in the doorway to the bedroom, her delicate fingers wrapped around the frame on either side.
“Well, thank you for…” She waves her hand through the air. “Whatever that was.” I have to fight a smile at how awkward she is.
“Is this you trying to say goodnight?”
“Uh…”
I laugh and grip her waist, lifting her. A small squeak slips past her lips, and her hands fly to my shoulders. “Rafe…”
“Yeah?”
“What are you doing?”
“I’m going to bed.”
Her eyes narrow on me. “You don’t always have to stay with me, you know?”
I drop her on the bed and brace my elbows either side of her head. “Anna…this is my room.”
She glances around and then releases a long breath. “Right, well, I’ll just go to a spare room.”
“No.”
“No?”
“You stay with me.”
She groans and falls back against the mattress, blonde hair sprawling around her head like her own personal halo. “Rafe, you don’t have to do this.”
I brush my lips over her neck. “Do what?”
“No one is going to take me. My nightmares are manageable…”
Another kiss, the taste of her skin so intoxicating. “I know. And good.”
“So you don’t need to make yourself…uncomfortable.”
I pull back and smirk down at her. “Uncomfortable?” Her cheeks turn pink, and she looks anywhere but at me.
Eventually, she rolls her eyes and points down between us. “Uncomfortable.”
Wrapping my fingers around her wrists, I pin them above her head. “I’m very comfortable.”
Her breaths quicken, breasts rising to greet me before falling again. Damn, she really does test every inch of my restraint. I’m not sure that she’s even aware of her legs parting, or the subtle invitations she throws my way with every breath. Her mind may not be ready, but her body is waking up from her abuse. My lips brush over hers, and she grabs the back of my neck, dragging me against her. The sweet brush of her tongue over mine has me groaning into her mouth. Those creamy thighs squeeze around my hips, causing my shirt to pull free. The bare skin of her thigh meets the exposed skin at my waist, and I glance down. The material of her dress is now rucked up around her hips, and I slam my eyes shut before I catch sight of her underwear. Too late though, I’m already picturing white lace, and my dick is painfully hard at the thought.
Small hands cling to my jaw, pulling my face back to hers before she kisses me again. Harder, bolder, more demanding. Her body bucks away from the bed, rising against mine as though it were possessed. Red-hot blood courses through my veins. My vision spots and blurs and my fists tighten around the cotton sheets beneath her. Shit. And then, she bites me, hard enough to send the copper tang of blood skating over my tongue. I snap. With a growl, I muster every bit of willpower I have and force myself away from her until I’m standing a few feet from the bed. And fuck me—she is wearing white lace. I turn my back on her and take several deep breaths.
The most primitive of instincts will often override the rational. I don’t want her blind desire. I want her, mind, body and soul. But she tests me with every breath because Anna Vasiliev is a lesson in restraint unlike any other.
“Rafael.” Her hand lands on my back, and I slowly turn to face her. “I’m sorry.”
“Fuck, Anna. Don’t apologize.”
“This is what I mean though. I’m not sure you should put yourself through this.”
I smirk. “Why? Because you can’t control yourself?” She dips her chin, blushing furiously. “I’m joking, avecita. It’s fine.”
“I really am sorry.” She looks up at me with sad eyes. “I wish I could be…more.” I don’t even know what to say to her, because she will be—in time. I see her, day by day, week by wee
k. She’s like a budding flower desperately in need of the sun but unwilling to bloom and soak it up. One day she will though. One day she will wake up and won’t be able to remember the scared girl she once was. She’ll take everything she wants in this life because she can—because I will give it to her. One day, Anna will see herself just as I do: strong, resilient, beautiful, and empowered. But that day is not today.
“Go to bed, little warrior.” I kiss her forehead and back towards the door. “I will sleep in this bed with you, but I just remembered I have some emails to send.” I don’t, but she needs a minute. And I refuse to sleep in another room.
She is mine. End of story.
26
Anna
Days seem to pass by quietly, but the more time that slips by, the tenser everyone becomes. We’re all waiting for something, but I’m not exactly sure what. I have no idea if Rafael has made a move on Dominges or not, and I’m not sure I want to know. I’ve seen less and less of him since we moved here, and there’s a whole other type of tension lingering between the two of us. I’m no longer his captive or Nero’s collateral. But I chose him. And now we’re on lockdown, confined to this villa, and the weight of that choice has never felt heavier. Our dynamic has changed. He’s no longer obligated to keep me, but he wants me…only not in the same way I want him.
I’m permanently conscious of all the ways that I’m sadly lacking, unable to give what I know he needs. How long is a man like him really going to wait? He’ll get bored eventually.
He insists on sleeping in the same bed as me, and every night as he holds me, I think that maybe I could just have sex with him. I’ve done it with thousands of other men. Could I do it for him? To keep him? To keep his love? I’m attracted to him. I want his kisses, his touches, and his love. Could I do something so horrible with him? Or would Rafael become tainted in my mind? One of them?
The bedroom door clicks shut, and I twist my head, glancing back through the balcony doors. Rafael walks into the room, his vest soaked and hair damp with sweat. He and Samuel seem to be training a lot here, sparring with each other on a daily basis in the gym. They never did that at the mansion. Yet another indicator of just how tense Rafael has become.
