Page 23 of The Love Language of the Cartel

She stiffened. “Pardon me?”

“You know my name is Ozias. I think it is important that you say it, don’t you? After all, youwillbe my wife.”

“What do you want from me, Ozias?” she whispered.

I reached out, brushing a stray curl behind her ear. She flinched at the contact but didn’t pull away—progress, however small.

“I want everything, Demi,” I muttered, my fingers trailing down the side of her neck. “Your body, your mind, your loyalty. I want you to be mine in every fuckin’ way.”

She gulped, her pulse racing beneath my touch. “And if I say no?”

I stepped back, letting my hand fall away. “Then you’ll learn just how ruthless I can be. Your father may have sheltered you from the true brutality of our world, but I won’t be so kind.”

Demi’s face hardened, her earlier vulnerability replaced by unyielding determination. “My father didn't shelter me from anything. I’ve seen what men like you are capable of.”

“Men like me?” I repeated, raising an eyebrow. “And what kind of man do you think I am? Because a few minutes ago, I was a monster.”

She didn’t hesitate. “I already told you. A killer. Someone who takes what he wants without regard for anyone or anything else.”

Her words should’ve stung, but instead, they filled me with a stubborn sense of pride.Yes, I am all those things and more.I’d cultivated that reputation carefully, using fear and violence to carve out my place in this unforgiving world.

Pride flooded my veins. An icy kind of arrogance that made me strangely calm. “You’re not wrong,” I admitted, pouring myself another drink. “But you’re not entirely right, either. There’s more to me than you know, Demi. And you’ll have plenty of time to discover that for yourself.”

She scoffed, tossing her hair over one shoulder. “I’m not interested in getting to know you, Ozias. I just want to go home.”

I set my glass down harder than necessary, the sharp sound making her jump. “How many times do I have to tell you this is your home now? The sooner you accept that, the easier things will be for both of us.”

Demi’s eyes flashed a dangerous glare. “I willneveraccept this. You can keep me here, force me to stay, but you can’t make me want it.”

I closed the distance between us in two quick strides, gripping her upper arms tightly. She gasped, trying to pull away, but I held her firmly in place.

“I don’t need you to fuckin’ want it,” I growled as I lowered my face to her sweet-smelling hair. I breathed in the scent of her. She smelled just like she looked—deadly and pure. “I just need you to obey. You’reminenow, Demi. The quicker you understand that, the better off you’ll be.”

For a moment, we stood there, locked in a soundless battle of wills. I saw the conflict raging in her eyes—defiance warring with fear, anger with a reluctant curiosity. Finally, she tore her eyes away, her shoulders slumping in defeat.

I released her before taking a step back. “Come. I’ll show you to your room.”

Without waiting for a response, I turned and headed toward the sweeping staircase that led to the upper floors. Demi followed silently, her earlier fire temporarily extinguished.

As we climbed the stairs, I found my thoughts drifting to the future. How long would it take to break through her defenses? To mold her into the perfect partner, both in business and in the bedroom? The challenge excited me in a way I hadn’t felt in years, maybe ever.

We reached the second floor, and I led her down a long hallway lined with thick wooden doors. I stopped in front of one near the end, pushing it open to reveal a luxurious suite.

“This will be your room,” I informed her, gesturing for her to enter.

Demi stepped inside cautiously, her eyes widening as she soaked in the luxury furnishings. A massive four-poster bed dominated one wall, draped in rich fabrics that shimmered in the late afternoon light. A sitting area with plush armchairs and a small writing desk occupied another corner while floor-to-ceiling windows offered a stunning view of the gardens below.

“It’s . . . beautiful,” she admitted stingily, running her hand along the silky bedspread.

I leaned against the doorframe, watching her explore. “Only the best for you. I meant what I said when I told you this is your home. I want you to be comfortable here.”

Demi turned to face me, her earlier fire rekindling. “Comfort is relative, Ozias. A golden cage is still a fucking cage.”

I pushed off from the doorframe, moving further into the room. “True. But it’s up to you whether this becomes a prison or a paradise. Your attitude will determine how you’re treated here.”

She lifted her chin rebelliously. “And if I choose to fight you every step of the way?”

I stared down at her, shaking my head softly as I reached out and closed my hand around her breast. I squeezed harder than I needed to, cupping the jiggly, round mound in my hand as my thumb glided over her nipple. I wouldn’t raise my voice at her. I had never raised my voice in my life. It was part of the reason people feared me so much. I always kept my calm.

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