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DANIIL
I knewDías was lowlife scum the moment he put his hands on Bianca, but I didn’t realize he was also a cheat. But there’s no doubt that he is one. I spotted it after the first twenty minutes of play. Wasn’t hard to figure out what was going on. The drunker he got, the sloppier he got. The furtive glances to the guard behind me were no longer quick and stealthy. They were unfocused, obvious. Others may have noticed if they weren’t half in the bag themselves.
I allowed Días to continue his crooked play until I was ready to go in for the kill.
And kill, I did.
Victory pumps through my veins, giving me a high like no other, when Días’s face crumples in fury as I lay down the winning hand. I push back from the table and stand. As much as I want to savor this moment—Días’s wrath and the shock on everyone’s faces—there’s no point stretching it out longer than necessary.
“Good game,” I announce brightly, “but I must run. And I’m taking my prize.”
My eyes cut to Bianca still sitting behind Jorge, eyes averted, quivering in… fear? But when her deep-brown eyes finally meet my own, it’s not fear I see but anger. Rage as blind and all-encompassing as The Madman’s.
I don’t know what I’d expected from her, but it wasn’t that.
Straightening my suit jacket, I jerk my head in the direction of the door. Bianca rises slowly, her eyes darting between Jorge and myself. His hands grip the table, knuckles white, eyes so dark they’re practically leaking poison.
Walking around the table, I approach Días. Dipping my head down so my lips are next to his ear, I say quietly, “Next time, grow a pair of fucking balls and pick a fight with someone your own size.”
His fists thud on the table in front of him, and he shoots up from his chair, bristling in anger, but he doesn’t take a swing at me. A beat of tense silence passes, my guards on alert. But I know he doesn’t have the balls to take me on.
“That's what I thought,” I sneer at him, before turning to Bianca, who still glares daggers my way. But there’s no time for soothing words, we need to make our exit. With one hand on Bianca’s elbow, I lead her to the back exit, then down a desolate hallway towards my office. She’s practically vibrating beneath my hand, and I don’t know what to make of it. But I’ll find out soon enough.
I’m right. The moment my office door shuts behind us, she spins on me, hands on her hips.
“What in the hell do you think you’re doing?” she hisses, piercing me with a scorching look. “Buying me in a card game, like I’m fucking property to be owned.”
A pulse flickers in my jaw. “I saw what he did to you. Días doesn’t deserve to be in your presence, much less touch you ever again. He’s an abusive asshole. I bought you your freedom.”
“Are you serious?” She throws her hands in the air and paces the room. “Freedom? This is the opposite of buying my freedom. You don’t know what you’ve done.”
Annoyance blooms hot in my chest. “What I’ve done is help you.” I stop her pacing with a firm hand on her arm. “I’m not asking anything of you in return. Nothing. I have money, influence, I’ll help you get set up on your own, far away from that scoundrel. You don’t have to worry about him ever again.”
As compelling as she is—with curves for miles and plush lips that I’d like to see wrapped around my cock—I didn’t do this to get laid. Or to make her mine. I did it because I don’t like to see bullies win.
“Are you serious?” A hysterical laugh bubbles up from her throat. “You have no idea who I am, do you?”
The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. “No,” I snap. “Should I?”
“Yes.” Her intense brown eyes drill holes into me. “I’m the niece of Emilio Morales. Head of the Zega Cartel.”
Shock blasts through me. I had no clue Emilio had a niece or any family for that matter. I assumed Bianca was Días’s current flavor—like she’d said earlier, a WAG.
But this makes everything… complicated. As the niece of Morales, she’s a valuable prize, and my brazen act tonight won’t go unpunished.
So this is messy.
Very messy.
Fuck me.
One look at my pinched face, and Bianca sighs heavily. Her delicate hands rise and rub at her temples. “You really didn’t know, did you? Unless you want your life to get a hell of a lot more problematic, we need to walk back into that room. Return me to Jorge. Smooth it over with him. You can say it was the booze, or”—she waves her hands in the air—“all the excitement of the evening.”
The muscles in my jaw throb as I grind my teeth. I should take her up on her suggestion. I should mind my own business and take a big step back from the fucking political minefield I’ve just stepped into, but I won’t.
“He’s your uncle’s second-in-command. Emilio stands by while Días hurts you?”
“It’s none of your business.” She looks tired now, defeated. Drained of her earlier bravado. “I can handle myself.”
