Page 41 of Disciplined: His Forbidden Crush

“We’re making progress,” Rafael replied, doing his best to sound confident despite the tension coiled in his chest. “He’s starting to understand what’s expected of him.”

Garcia laughed, a deep rumble that echoed through the line. “I hope you haven’t been too harsh on him, Rafael. You know how much I adore my boy.”

Rafael hesitated for a moment, images of Summer’s flushed face and trembling body sprawled beneath him unfolding in his mind. The way Summer had submitted to him, moaning and begging for more, was a secret he would take to his grave.

“Of course not,” he managed to force out. “You have given me full authority to do what I must to keep him under control, but…I know you would not want him truly hurt.”

“Good,” Garcia said, a hint of approval coloring his words. “Keep it up.”

Rafael thought Garcia wouldn’t be so approving if he knew the truth: that Rafael’s most successful method of controlling Summer involved fucking him into submission.

“Verano isn’t as wild as we first thought,” Rafael said carefully, choosing his words wisely. “He just needs a little freedom from the strict life of the cartel. Perhaps it would be all right to allow him to stay.”

“Absolutely not,” Garcia said sharply, his voice hard and unyielding. “He must learn his place in the cartel and take over his responsibilities. He’s no longer a child, Rafael. It’s time for him to become a man.”

Rafael clenched his fists, his nails biting into his palm as he forced out a reluctant agreement. “Yes, boss.”

“Bring him home soon,” Garcia ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I trust you’ll do whatever it takes to ensure that happens.”

“I will do what I can,” Rafael promised, the weight of his responsibility settling heavily on his shoulders.

“Good,” Garcia replied, and with that, their call ended.

Rafael closed his eyes and let out a slow breath. He leaned his face into his hands, wincing as the pressure aggravated his injuries. His thoughts swirled like a storm, torn between obeying Garcia, doing what was best for Summer, and whatever it was he wanted for himself. He wasn’t even sure of what that truly was; all he knew was that he needed Summer in his life, one way or another.

He allowed himself to indulge in a fantasy, picturing the kind of life he and Summer could have together in the cartel. They could keep their relationship secret, meeting in the dark. By day, Rafael would serve Garcia; his heated nights would be shared with Summer, tangled together in the dark.

But reality crashed down on him, shattering his illusion. It was impossible. Such a life could never exist. The cartel was a cruel, unforgiving world, and there was no place for love, let alone a forbidden one between a lieutenant and his boss’s son. Despair settled heavily in his chest, suffocating him with its weight.

Rafael forced himself to consider an alternate path: a life outside the cartel. He pictured a modest home in a closed complex with frangipani flowering beside the door. Rafael would find work. Summer would keep house (they would have a cleaner, of course, Summer would not have to labor all day). They’d spend quiet evenings wrapped in each other’s arms. Maybe they would get a cat.

But it felt wrong, unnatural. The idea of trying to live as a normal civilian was too foreign, too strange for someone who had known nothing but the brutal life of the cartel since his teenage years. What would Rafael even do? The very thought of starting again made his stomach churn with unease.

As his mind raced, he realized the painful truth: he couldn’t have Summer in the cartel, and he couldn’t leave the cartel for Summer either. It was a cruel paradox. There was no clear path forward. He could not choose either fate.

His heart ached with the realization that he couldn’t have Summer, and it only made Rafael’s feelings for him burn brighter. The impossibility of being together intensified his longing, making him crave every touch, every whispered word, every stolen glance.

“Damn it,” he cursed under his breath, as the pain of loss settled in his chest like a lead weight. He wanted to protect Summer from the harsh world they lived in. He wanted to claim him, to make him his own, and never let anyone else come close to touching him. But life had never been fair to either of them, and they could not have this.

Fairness is a fucking illusion, he thought ruefully, trying to swallow the bitterness that threatened to choke him. Nothing was ever fair. Prison had taught him that. There was no room in life for fantasies or dreams, just cold, hard truths.

Stop, he chastised himself, shaking his head to clear his thoughts. You know what you need to do.

Because it didn’t matter what Rafael wanted, if he tried to take Summer away from the cartel or stay with him within it. Either way, Garcia would find out, would track Rafael down, and there would be a bullet and a shallow grave waiting for him. At best, it would be quick. At worst…he knew how bad he worst could be.

So there was only one option that did not end with Rafael dead.

Rafael pushed himself to his feet, pocketing the phone, knowing it was already over.

Chapter Seventeen

Summer sat anxiously on the edge of the sofa, chewing on his bottom lip. The muffled sound of Rafael’s voice coming from behind the closed bedroom door made his curiosity run wild. He had never felt more tempted to press his ear against the door, but he knew better. After going behind Rafael’s back to try to help Coco, he wouldn’t risk damaging their fragile trust again.

He bit his lip as he recalled the way Rafael’s mouth felt pressed against his own; at first it had been intense, but then it had become…oh, something he wanted more of. Kissing Rafael had been as wonderful as he’d imagined, but also so familiar. Like coming home.

Lost in thought, he daydreamed about what it would be like to be with Rafael for real, a thing Summer had wanted, but never really been able to picture.

He could picture it now. Rafael was perfect for him in so many ways. Rafael understood Summer’s past in a way few could. Rafael knew what it meant to be a child of the cartel, having grown up in the same twisted world. And when it came to their bodies, their connection was intense—every touch was electric, igniting a fire that easily roared out of control.

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