Page 49 of Disciplined: His Forbidden Crush

Summer righted himself. Rafael let him go.

That might be the last time he touches me, Summer thought.

Here in the compound, the air was heavy with testosterone and the scent of gunpowder and dust. Everyone seemed to communicate in a shout. Summer flinched from the coarser language. It wasn’t that he didn’t expect those words, he just hadn’t heard them flung with such vitriol in a while. At least it wasn’t directed at him.

On the steps, he hesitated, feeling out of place. He could sense the eyes of his father’s men on him, scrutinizing his every move, and it made his gut feel full of lead.

“Verano!” Raul Garcia’s voice cut through the chaos as he strode forward, a wide grin on his face. “There you are, hermanito.”

“Raul,” Summer breathed, as he was enveloped by his older brother’s strong arms. The warmth of the embrace was a welcome reprieve. He’d missed Raul, but seeing him now, breathing in the comfort of him, he realized just how much he’d missed his brother.

“Running off to L.A. without so much as a goodbye?” Raul Garcia chided, ruffling Summer’s hair affectionately. “I should kick your ass for that, but I’m just glad you’re home.”

“I missed you too,” Summer mumbled, averting his gaze to avoid his brother’s questioning eyes. He didn’t want to lie to Raul, but he would if he had to. Still, he knew there was little he could hide from his brother.

“El Tiburón,” Raul Garcia said, clapping Rafael on the shoulder. “I’ll take it from here. You can head to the barracks. My father will be pleased to see you later.”

Summer’s heart clenched at the dismissal, longing to chase after Rafael but knowing he couldn’t. He had to hide his feelings, his desire, and his pain. Instead, he nodded stiffly at Rafael, burning with unspoken emotions. As Rafael disappeared into the compound, Summer felt a hollow ache in his chest where his heart used to be.

“Come on,” Raul Garcia said, leading Summer up the steps. “I’m sure you’ll need to get settled before meeting with our father.”

“Right,” Summer agreed, steeling himself for the inevitable confrontation that awaited him. As much as he had missed Raul, he wished he could turn back time and remain in Los Angeles, where he had been free to love Rafael without fear of repercussion.

As they entered their father’s mansion, Raul joked about Summer going soft in L.A. “Don’t worry, we’ll harden you up, hermanito.”

The weight of Raul’s machismo was relentless. Summer knew that his brother loved him, but it was difficult not to feel suffocated by the expectations that came with being a part of this world.

“Here, your rooms are just as you left them,” Raul said with a smile, guiding Summer into his old suite. It was exactly as he had left it, the way his mother had decorated it, in warm timber and rattan. Even the touched he’d added himself were there: soft throws on the sofa, fragrant candles on the sideboard. It felt like stepping back in time, like the last year hadn’t even happened.

“You might want to change,” Raul suggested, gesturing to a suit laid out on the bed. “Father will want to see you looking your best.”

Conservative, masculine clothing. Summer suppressed a sigh and forced a smile for his brother. “Gracias.”

Raul stayed while he changed, chatting about the changes to the cartel since Summer’s departure. “The business has expanded. We’ve got new routes, new connections with other cartels. You know, the usual stuff.” Raul shrugged. “Nothing too hard for you to pick up. You’ll be up to speed in no time.”

Summer’s hands shook as he buttoned up the shirt, dread pooling in his stomach at the thought of facing his father. Love, fear, resentment, and respect tangled together in a knot in his chest.

His hair was loose. His father didn’t like that. Slowly, he braided it, each twist another shackle. Then he slipped on the suit jacket and looked at himself in the mirror.

God. A suit, wrapped tight around his body. A reflection that was only a muted version of him. No matter what had changed in the cartel, it seemed that everything would always stay the same for him.

“Ready?” Raul asked, leaning against the doorframe.

“Sure,” Summer lied, his heart heavy as they left his room behind. The distance between him and Rafael felt insurmountable.

Raul laid his hand on Summer’s shoulder as they approached the door to Garcia’s study. It was probably supposed to be supportive, but it felt more like a weight, or a leash. “Everything will be fine,” he murmured, his voice low and reassuring. “Just apologize, and it’ll all work out.”

Summer swallowed hard, forcing down the lump in his throat. He knew he had no other choice, but that didn’t make it any easier. “Alright,” he whispered, nodding stiffly.

The door opened with a creak, revealing the dark, lavishly furnished study where their father, Diego Garcia, awaited them. The scent of cigars and aged leather permeated the air, immediately wrapping around Summer in a suffocating embrace.

“Father, he’s here,” Raul said lightly.

Their father turned. He nodded to his eldest son. “Gracias.” And then he turned to his youngest. “Verano,” he said warmly, his eyes momentarily softening as he took in the sight of his wayward child. But just as quickly, the warmth vanished, replaced by a frown. “You have some explaining to do.”

“Father,” Raul said in an appeasing tone. “He made a mistake.”

Garcia leaned back in his chair, appraising Summer with a critical eye. “That he did. His wild lifestyle, his decadent ways...they won’t be tolerated here. I’ve built this cartel on discipline and loyalty, Verano, and you would do well to remember that.”

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