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Listening intently, the only sounds I hear are the accelerated beating of my heart and my rapid breathing. I stare into the darkness I just walked from, futilely trying to prove to myself that there isn’t anyone following me.
My heels click faster than before; fear spreads through my body as fast as the goosebumps prickle over my skin. Fingers slide over my shoulder, and suddenly, my feet are rooted in place. When my lips part, the only sound from my mouth is a silent, breathy scream. My heart thumps in my chest as another hand snakes around my body, slowly pulling me into the darkness.
Rapid, heavy breaths blow from me as the sweat beading along my hairline drips down my temples. Sitting up straight, I clutch my chest, trying to catch my breath. My hand fists at my shirt, drenched in sweat, the tight, wet fabric feeling as though it is suffocating me. Grabbing the hem, I peel the damp fabric from my skin and toss it to the floor. My skin pimples in goosebumps as the sweat evaporates from my skin, chilling me to the bone.
My whole body trembles from the chill – or fear – and I pull the blanket over my shoulders in a futile attempt to warm myself. Laying back on the pillow, I cringe at the wetness against my face.
Is that sweat?
Or was I crying in my sleep?
Either way, it’s gross.
Sitting up, I flip the pillow before curling into a ball beneath the blanket and staring into the darkness.
This ridiculous nightmare has been plaguing me for weeks. Between staying up too late in attempts to avoid it or it waking me from my sleep, I can’t remember the last time I actually had a solid night of sleep. Rolling over, I read the alarm clock:04:02.
As much as I was hoping to start my first day of work well-refreshed, I guess I’ll have to settle for the endorphins of a run. I climb out of bed and flip on the light to find a sports bra and some leggings in my dresser. Once dressed, I hastily pull my hair into a messy-looking ponytail before grabbing my phone, earbuds, and keys.
The hallway of the apartment building is nearly silent, only thehum of the elevator slowly approaching my floor fills the space. Stepping in, I pressBto head down to the basement. While it isn’t luxurious by any means, there is a fully functional gym and laundry in the basement of my building. At least it has everything I need – a readily available treadmill since I can’t seem to bring myself to go for an early morning outdoor run these days.
Pushing open the door, I feel the wall for the switch to flip on the lights. They flicker for a second before illuminating the room. Grabbing the treadmill that faces the door, I slip my earbuds into my ears and scroll for a playlist.
Happiness hit her like a train on a track, coming towards her stuck still no turning back…
Florence and the Machine pours through my earbuds as I crank up the speed on the treadmill until I run in pace with the rhythm in my ears. Unlike my dream, where I am rooted in place, I run. I run hard and fast, putting as much distance between me and the darkness of my dreams as I can. My feet pound against the conveyor as I force myself to run at a punishing pace.
By the time I hit the end of my fifth mile, sweat has drenched my hairline and visibly saturated my clothes. The run to refocus my mind worked. The machine beeps as I lower the speed; the only thing I can think about right now is the screaming of my legs. I breathe hard and heavy breaths as I walk a briskly pace to cool down. After another ten minutes, I climb off and grab my things.
5:27 a.m.
This is going to be a long fucking first day…
three
ANDRES
“¡No me jodas!”
These idiots in Mexico can’t seem to do anything without someone up their ass, holding their hand with each and every step.
I don’t know how Alejandro did it all those years.
I’ve been running shit solo while he took a month away with his family. It’s been two weeks and I feel like I’ve barely slept since they boarded the plane. I don’t want to let him down. He completely trusts me to run both sides of his empire while he is away.
Our empire.
Things changed after Isabella and the night in Mexico. Alex meant every word. He has given me half of everything he has, adamant that it is my blood right. We may not share the same parents, but we are brothers. Bound by the blood of countless men we’ve killed while reclaiming and rebuilding what others took from his father.
A Mexican immigrant, who grew up in a boys’ home, to CEO of International Affairs for Marcano Enterprises. Second richest man in New York City.
“Mr. Ramirez?” A light, feminine voice calls as knuckles gently rap on the glass of my office door. I know the voice — Jamie from HR. Without looking up from my desk, I lift my hand to inform her that I am otherwise occupied. Running a cartel from inside an import enterprise is a great cover, except when you need to deal with sensitive matters — like threatening to cut someone’s balls off if they don’t follow your directions.
“¡No me importa! ¡Descúbrelo!” I shake my head while speaking the gruff words into the phone.
Lifting my head to see what Jamie wants, my eyes are immediately glued to the woman standing behind her. She is ravishingly gorgeous, as always. My eyes graze over every inch of her, savoring the sensual curves of her hips and thighs. A tight black pencil skirt and well-fitted blouse only further accentuate how amply curvaceous she is.
As focused as I am on her curves, I am repeatedly drawn back to her eyes. Those bright hazel eyes are unlike any I have ever seen. Bright amber flares from her pupils to the dark blue-hued ring around her iris. They are absolutely fucking mesmerizing.
