Page 117 of No Merciful Corruption

Somewhere in the room, a phone pings with a text message. Alejandro sighs and reaches for his. As his eyes drift across the screen a deep crease forms between his brows.

“What’s wrong?”

He sighs heavily. “The family lawyer says Diego’s in his office right now asking if there are ways to legally prevent a divorce.”

“Uh-oh. Better get going then.” I steal a kiss. “Remind your brother that a divorce would shame the family.”

“Just so you know, you’re not allowed to divorce me.”

I nod profusely as a giddy smile spreads across my lips. “Mhm.”

“I’ll die before I let you divorce me. And then I’ll haunt you from beyond the grave.”

I wrap my arms around his neck and bring his lips to mine. “You are sooo romantic.”

THE PRICE OF LOYALTY

Alejandro

September

Lettie has her own private garden on the rooftop.

A little-known fact about my baby sister is she’s incredibly inquisitive. She likes to know things. The how, the why, the way things come together. In her own way, she’s always shown interest in the family business—the legitimate side, that is. She spent so much time with Abuelo in Trieste during the early stages of our Italian expansion. She possesses a remarkable aptitude for numbers and equations something I wouldn’t have expected from her. Lettie had always seemed more interested in creative things like fashion and art. However, Lettie refuses to turn her special hobbies into a career.

It’s why she breeds deadly plants in her free time like a completely sane and normal person.

“Don’t touch that.” She snaps.

I snatch my hand back and spin on my heels.

With pinched brows and narrowed eyes, she examines what appear to be very dark berries growing from nearly black flowers. “That’s aconitum napellus.”

She snips the stem with a pair of gardening sheers and catches the berries in her gloved hand. She brings them close to her goggles, turns them over, and then drops them into the small basket at her side.

“You lock the door to this place, right?” I ask. “I don’t want Lela wandering up here.”

“She knows which plants are deadly and which ones aren’t.” She yanks her gloves off. “Gotta teach ‘em young.”

“Sometimes I wonder where you pick up these strange hobbies.”

“These strange hobbies helped you get rid of not one but two bodies,” she says, referencing both Garcia and Brent. “Remember how when I was little, I was allergic to strawberries.”

I frown in search of the memory. “No…you’re allergic to strawberries?”

“Exactly. Mithridatism.”

Do I want to know…?

No. No I don’t.

“Why are you here? I thought you and Dahlia had dinner plans in the Quarter.”

“We did but Tia Leticia called and asked about the financial reports⁠—”

She hits the back of her wrist against her forehead, careful not to let the palm of her glove make contact with her skin. “Crap. She sent those a week ago, I completely forgot.”

“It’s not a big deal, I can do it. I just wanted to ask.”