Total pages in book: 180
Estimated words: 170747 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 854(@200wpm)___ 683(@250wpm)___ 569(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 170747 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 854(@200wpm)___ 683(@250wpm)___ 569(@300wpm)
The temperature in the small closet seems to double as I’m faced with a wall of half-naked Rafael only inches away from me. He both intrigues me and makes me wholly uncomfortable.
“Getting brave, little warrior.” He smirks.
“I just… the rose. I like it.”
“Of course you do.” He used to watch me in the gardens, as I smelled the roses. “It’s for my sister, Violet.”
“Then why not a violet?”
“Because like a rose, she was beautiful but delicate, and she made me bleed when I tried to hold her too tight.” My heart stammers over itself. God, that’s beautiful and so tragic.
“I’m sorry.”
He shifts closer to me, and I force myself to stand still. I will not be scared of this man. “As heartwarming as this is, I need to get dressed.” He smiles, breaking through the thickness in the air. His hand goes to his towel, and for a second, just a second, I debate standing there and letting him drop it. I know he would. This strange warmth spreads through me, probing fingers reaching, caressing, teasing at something so foreign to me that I can’t identify it. Curiosity and possibilities flit through my mind like the flashing images of an old film reel. Rafael is not some experiment though. I cannot test the boundaries of my fear and curiosity on him. I hurry from the closet, avoiding his gaze. The sound of his deep laughter rumbles behind me, and I hate myself for running away from him, but I have to know my limitations. Rafael is always both my limit and my exception.
25
Rafael
I can feel Anna’s nails digging into my arm even through my jacket. She remains close to me, her steps even and rhythmical beside mine. I lead her up to the front door of Ricardo Rosi’s house, and she takes an audible breath as the door opens in front of us. A maid beckons us inside and leads us to a formal living room. Samuel glances up from his spot on one of the couches, a charming smile on his face. Him, Carlos and some men arrived ahead of me to scout the security, as is the way with such meetings.
“Ricardo,” I say. The man across from Sam pushes to his feet and turns to face me. The woman next to him also stands but doesn’t approach. I assume that’s his latest wife. He likes them young and…buoyant. The dinner, the wives…it’s all a pretense of civil business, but we’re not civil men.
“Rafael.” He’s a big guy, almost as big as me. The suit jacket he wears doesn’t quite fit him, as though the material is desperately trying to contain all that mass and failing. He clasps a glass of brandy in front of him, his other hand shoved casually in his pocket. Murky brown eyes slip from me to Anna.
“And who is this?”
She forces herself away from me just a little. “Anna,” she says, her voice stronger and clearer than I was expecting.
“Ricardo Rosi. Pleasure.” His eyes slip over her body as he sips his drink. My fists tighten at my sides. Anna’s small hand glides over my palm, forcing me to release my clenched fingers before she threads her fingers through mine. Ricardo tracks the movement. “Is she yours, Rafael?”
“I am no one’s,” Anna snaps. He smirks and I tug her closer to my side, staring him down. She is mine.
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.