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“So, it’s the groom-to-be?”
My eyes lift to find The Madman’s eye, dark as night, staring back at me. He looks worse for wear, with one eye swollen shut and his right arm in a sling. Satisfaction melts through me to see him hurt like this. He deserved far worse.
In a perfect world, Emilio would have him killed for gambling away his niece, but since this world is far from perfect, he stands before me still alive.
His lips tilt into a humorless smirk, and I remember the sight of him hitting Bianca out on that balcony. How he treated her, the terrible words he said to her. A sense of possession flares in me now, a reminder that if I don’t put a ring on Bianca’s finger, this mudak will.
“I suppose I have you to thank for my upcoming nuptials.” I allow a cocky grin to overtake my face. “I’m very much looking forward to making Bianca my wife.”
“You think you're so clever, pendejo. You think you’ve won the prize, but don’t be so sure,” he growls, dropping any pretense of this being a friendly conversation.
“Take it up with your boss. His orders.” I shrug, settling back in the armchair as if I don’t have a care in the world. Then, with a conspiratorial whisper, I add, “Maybe if you didn’t treat Bianca like the gum on your shoe, she wouldn’t have come to me so readily.”
Annoyance pulls his jaw taut, his scowl menacing. I’ve seen that look before. Right before guns are drawn or blades unsheathed. I may not be armed, but as far as I’m concerned, Días can choke on his rage. Unless he wants to invite the wrath of the Kozlov Empire down on his head—and I’m guessing he doesn’t—he’s powerless against me. And even better, he has no power over Bianca anymore.
“Rest easy,parce. I don’t give a fuck about her. Never did. That bitch is your problem now.” Despite his callous words, Días’s jaw is locked so tight I think he might crack his molars.
“Say that again, I dare you.” I raise my eyebrows. A clear indication that I don’t give a fuck, but the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. There’s no way this half-cent gangster is going down without a fight. I took his golden ticket, the heir to the throne, and that marks me with an X between my eyebrows.
He’ll come at me no doubt; the question is when. One thing I’ll make certain of: when he strikes, I’ll be ready.
* * *
A half hour later,Emilio summons us to a meeting. Bianca walks beside me, fidgeting with the neckline of her dress. She looks stunning, wearing a simple white shift dress and a stack of gold necklaces that sets off her golden-brown skin. There’s a certain fierceness in her gaze, as if we’re going to war rather than to see a beloved family member. I don’t tell her about my run-in with Jorge. Doubt it would improve her mood.
Maria brings us out to an impressive veranda overlooking an Olympic-size pool surrounded by a neatly manicured lawn. Emilio is sitting waiting for us in a polo shirt and khakis, his dark hair brushed back from his tanned, handsome face. He looks like a business executive on his day off, not like the head of a deadly crime syndicate.
Emilio’s hooded eyes track Bianca’s every move with a quiet intensity that I don’t fucking like. He looks at her like he hates her, and the feeling seems mutual. There’s no affection in her eyes, no warmth towards her uncle, as she says, “Hello,tío,” and plants a dry kiss on his cheek.
He doesn’t rise to meet us, but he offers a nod in greeting. He gestures for us to join him at the patio table.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Morales.” I force a neutral tone. “My brothers send their regards.”
“Call me Emilio,” he offers with a false smoothness. “We’ll be family soon.”
“About that, tío.” Bianca scoots forward in her seat, her usually golden skin pale. “We should talk about what happened this weekend.”
“I know everything that happened this weekend.” He doesn’t bother to look at Bianca, instead he focuses on placing the napkin in his lap and helping himself to the fruit salad on the table.
“It was a misunderstanding. Daniil didn’t know who I was. That I was your niece. Everyone was drinking… emotions were high… you can imagine. Daniil made a mistake.”
Emilio’s eyes snap to my own, but I keep my expression blank. I won’t agree with Bianca that I made a mistake because I didn’t. If Emilio had better protected his niece, we wouldn’t be in this situation. I doubt it was the first time Días had been rough with Bianca, and there’s no way Emilio is ignorant of that. He appears to be a man who is aware ofeverythingthat happens within his organization.
But he’s awaiting a response from me. I clear my throat, and say, “It’s true, I didn’t realize who Bianca was when I made the bet with Jorge.” I pause for effect. “Nonetheless, a deal is a deal. And I intend to uphold my side of it.”
Bianca lets out a frustrated groan and glares at me like I just ate her firstborn while Emilio nods, spearing a piece of papaya with his fork.
“Jorge made a mistake, but he is the man I want to marry.” She practically chokes out the last part, and I wonder what game she’s playing. That or she’s scared of retribution from Días. “He’s the man you wanted me to marry, tío, was he not?”
Emilio drops his cutlery on the table with a loud clang and glares at his niece. A wave of possessiveness has me on edge. This is no longer the face of the amiable CEO; this is the violent criminal drug lord who doesn’t blink at the prospect of killing. “Your virtue was compromised by the events of last night. It made us look weak, and Jorge has been punished for his stupidity.” His reptilian eyes cut to me, dead and flat. “You’re lucky it was a Kozlov that claimed you. This marriage stands to benefit both families.”
My lip curls in contempt, but I hold my tongue. I want Bianca to absorb his words. To understand how little regard her own flesh and blood holds for her. When she accepts that her family doesn’t give a shit about her, she’ll understand I’m by far the best option available.
Bianca releases a defeated sigh. “But why so quickly? Surely, we can delay the engagement by a few months. I don’t even know Daniil, we need some time to—”
“¡Silencio!”Emilio seethes. “It’s decided.” He grabs her chin roughly and tilts her face towards him. “Do you want people to think you are a whore, dear niece?” She blinks at him and holds her ground, even as tears form in her eyes.
“Get your hands off her.” My voice is low, but my words have a lethal edge that hangs heavy in the air. I don’t move a muscle, but I’m all coiled energy, prepared to pounce if he doesn’t release her immediately.
