Page 2 of The Love Language of the Cartel

“Who gon’ fuck with you?”

“Nobody!”

“Who gon’ top you?”

“Nobody!”

“Who gon’ shake you?”

“Nobody!”

She cheesed while high fiving me. “That’s my girl. Now c’mon, let’s shop!”

We continued our search, navigating through the world of high-end couture. My heart was heavy, but Samara’s support offered me a sliver of optimism as I prepared to face such an uncertain future. She was the only person around for me to vent my feelings to.

My mother died during childbirth, living long enough to push me out before she bled out in the delivery room. As my father’s sole heir, I only knew conditional love, never nurturing. My father was a purebred Chicagoan through and through, and he had to be cold to survive in the underworld. He couldn’t come home and turn off the streets or erase all the evil things he’d done or commanded others to do on his behalf, so he didn’t even bother to try. I understood it; I just didn’t like it.

“Do you think anyone is ever truly ready for marriage?” I asked while walking past a display of mannequins clad in designer dresses of all lengths and colors.

“I think it’s normal to feel uncertainty,” Mara responded thoughtfully. “I don’t think it’s always about feeling ready. I think it’s about taking the jump and figuring things out one day at a time.”

I shot her a half smile. “I wish I could believe that. You make it sound so simple and carefree. I just wish I had more autonomy over my life. I mean, it ismylife. What if I don’t want to spend it chained to a monster?”

“I get that, but you’re tough as iron, Demi. And you’re not alone in this. You have your father, your cousin Dominic, and me.”

A nearby gorgeous, sleek, ivory mini dress with a glittered bodice and low-cut neckline caught my eye, and I held it against me. “What do you think about this one? It's sexy, but is it doing too much?”

Samara’s big brown eyes popped wide before a big grin spread across her face. “Oh my God, Demi!It’s gorgeous! And it’s not doing too much at all. You should want to feel confident and powerful when your engagement is announced to the world, especially given the situation. This dress screams all that and more. Try it on!” she urged.

I headed to the fitting room and emerged a few minutes later wearing the dress. I looked at myself in the mirror and saw a mix of emotions crossing my expression.My gaze traveled across my rich, smooth skin with a warm caramel complexion like Werther’s. A few subtle freckles dusted across the bridge of my nose—faint, hardly there. My long eyelashes were full and fanned out over my almond-shaped, chestnut-brown eyes. And then there was my dimple—emerging whenever my full lips flashed a smirk or smile.

I wore my long, wavy hair loose, allowing it to cascade down my shoulder and back in silky, rolling waves. My posture was controlled yet relaxed—a testament to my upbringing in an environment where poise came second-hand. Malones were at the top of the food chain, therefore, we had to act like it.

“So, what do you think?” Mara probed with her eyes bright and wide with excitement.

“I don’t know. I mean, it feels like me. I like the fabric it’s made of. It feels good on my skin. Maybe this is a start.”

“But is it theone? Is it screamingI’m about to be Mrs. ‘El Diablo’?”

My lips slightly parted in thought as I paused to marvel at myself from head-to-toe once more before answering.The designer fabric perfectly draped over my figure, making my beauty seem even more effortless than it already was. My fashion choices had always echoed my high-class upbringing—never flashy, always purposeful.Does it scream Mrs. Ozias Rivera? I don’t know. It kind of has a ring to it.

“Fuck it. I’m buying it. Let’s do it! It’s the only way to embrace whatever lies ahead in a couple of weeks.”

Samara cheesed her pearly whites while clapping and jumping up and down for joy. “Yass! My best friend is a baddie, and she looks so good!”

I stepped back inside the fitting room and changed back into my two-piece outfit. When I returned,Samara and I continued browsing on our way to the checkout counter, discussing various dresses and their potential as wedding day contenders. Suddenly, my eyes lit up when I spotted a stunning emerald dress glimmering under the boutique’s fluorescent lights.

“Oh my God,Samara, look at this one! You know green is my favorite color. I have to try it on!”

“Oh, that is gorgeous, Demi. You definitely should. Go for it!”

I snatched it up and raced back to the fitting room to slip into the emerald mini dress with a rhinestone corset top and draped skirt. The moment I stepped out in it, Samara nodded with approval.

“Damn, girl!” She squealed. “That dress was made for you. Ass lookin’ right! Titties sittin’ pretty! You look absolutely stunning.”

I studied my reflection in the mirror, turning to make sure my eyes caught every angle. The dress was the color of money and good luck, and it fit me like a glove, accentuating my slim-thick figure and bringing out the color of my chestnut brown eyes. I smiled wide and bright, feeling the rush of confidence I needed.

“Eek! I love it, Samara. I love it so much that I think I’m going to wear it out of the store and to my father’s club tonight.”

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