Page 33 of The Love Language of the Cartel

“Both.”

I cleared my throat before nodding. “The watch, yes. It’s beautiful. How’d you know pink was my favorite color?”

“You’re going to be my wife,mi amor. It’s my job to know everything about you. Besides the pink diamond studs in your ears, the pink sports bra and leggings set you had on when I had you delivered to me. I pay attention to detail.”

I clenched my thighs together. His confidence made my pussy drip. “What did I do to deserve such a reward? All I’ve done is kick and scream since you met me.”

“Consider it a wedding present.”

I fully expected him to try and kiss me or force himself on me in the best ways, but he didn’t do either of those things. Instead, he dipped his chin and turned on his heel.

“You’re welcome by the way,” he replied over his shoulder. “I’ll see you downstairs. Don’t take too long.”

A few minutes later, I heard two voices downstairs—a woman’s laughter mixing with Ozias’s deeper voice. Curiosity got the better of me, and I quickly made my way down to investigate while trying to give audience to their conversation.

As I descended the stairs, I saw Ozias standing with a beautiful young woman with brown skin who looked to be in her twenties, like me. She had a slender, athletic build, with long legs that had her standing at around five feet seven. Even with the three-inch heels on her feet, Ozias still towered over her.

Her skin was a few shades darker than Ozias’s warm, sun-kissed sienna brown complexion, but when standing side-by-side, there were parts of their features that favored, hinting at their shared DNA. Maya’s dark-eyed gaze was sharp and assessing as it landed on me.

We studied each other in silence for a few seconds, feeling each other out. Two long spiral curls cascaded down the front of her oval face, framing it perfectly, while the rest of her hair was pulled up into a high, messy bun. Her cocoa-brown eyes were filled with warmth and curiosity and framed by long lashes and thick, manicured brows.

“Ah, there she is,” Ozias declared with a hint of pride in his voice that made me want to scoff. “Maya, meet Demi Malone. Demi, this is my sister, Maya.”

Maya didn’t extend a hand or offer any form of greeting. Instead, she began to circle me slowly, her eyes raking over every inch of my body. I felt like a prized pony being assessed at an auction, and it made my blood boil.

“So this is the Chicago spitfire you’ve gone through all this trouble to marry, Ozias?” Maya asked, her voice dripping with snootiness. “She looks . . . soft. Like baby shit.”

I bristled at her words, my hands clenching into fists at my sides. “I assure you, there’s nothing soft about me,” I snapped back.

Maya’s eyebrow arched, a smirk playing at the corners of her mouth. “Is that so? Because from where I’m standing, you look like a pampered princess who’s never had to fight for anything in her life.”

The words hit too close to home, striking at insecurities I’d harbored for years. Before I could think better of it, my hand flew out, connecting solidly with Maya’s cheek. The crack of skin on skin echoed through the foyer, followed by a stunned silence. I stood there, breathing heavily, my palm stinging from the impact.

To my surprise, Maya threw her head back and laughed instead of assaulting me back. Her smile was joyous, revealing perfectly white teeth that lit up her face even in the midst of our pissing match.

She turned to Ozias, her eyes dancing with amusement as she chuckled. “Well, well, I stand corrected. It seems you’ve found yourself a bitch with thick skin after all. She’ll fit in with our family perfectly.”

Ozias’s expression was a mix of shock and maybe pride. I couldn’t quite tell, and I was too rattled to analyze it further. There I was, preparing to scrap with the bitch for playing in my face, and she was ready to invite me to their family reunion.

Maya rubbed her cheek, still grinning. “Come on, firecracker,” she said, grabbing my arm. “Let’s go get you a wedding dress. I have a feeling this is going to be more fun than I thought.”

As she dragged me toward the door, I caught Ozias’s watchful eye. There was a heat in his gaze that sent a shiver down my spine—whether from fear or something else, I wasn’t quite sure. One thing was certain: The day was far from over, and I had a feeling it was only going to get more complicated.

The sleek black SUV glided through the narrow streets of the coastal town, a glaring difference to the pastel-colored buildings and antiquated storefronts. I was wedged between Maya and Javier in the back seat, feeling like a prisoner being escorted to her doom. The irony wasn’t lost on me. I couldn’t help but recognize Javier as the man from the restaurant in Cancun. I knew I’d felt an eerie feeling when I saw him, only to find out he’d been working for Ozias all along. The realization that he’d been watching me through another man’s eyes made my skin crawl.

“Here we are,” Maya announced as we stopped in front of a small boutique. The sign above the door readVestidos de Ensueñoin elegant script. From the lavish gowns on the mannequins in the storefront window, I knew it was a dress shop.

As we sailed inside, leaving Javier a few steps behind, I was hit by the overwhelming scent of perfume and champagne. The bridal shop was a sea of white and ivory, lace and tulle as far as the eye could see. My stomach churned.Fuck me.

Maya immediately approached the owner, a petite Hispanic woman with graying hair, and launched into a rapid-fire conversation that was a mix of English and Spanish. Javier stood at the door, smirking at my evident confusion. I only caught every other word.

“What’s she saying?” I inquired, keeping my voice low.

Javier shrugged, his expression maddeningly neutral. “Just discussing your . . . requirements.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “My requirements? You mean Ozias’s requirements for his unenthusiastic bride?”

Before Javier could respond, a flurry of activity erupted. The owner clapped her hands, and suddenly, assistants materialized from behind curtains, wheeling out racks upon racks of wedding dresses.

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