Page 34 of The Love Language of the Cartel

“Jesus Jamal Christ,” I whispered, overwhelmed by the sheer volume of options. “This is crazy.”

Maya turned to me, her eyes gleaming with something that looked suspiciously like excitement. “Alright, Demi. Time to find you the perfect dress for your big day.”

I couldn’t help but scoff. “Perfect? For a sham wedding to the man who kidnapped me?”

To my surprise, Maya’s display of exposed pearly whites didn’t falter. “A wedding is a wedding,cariño.And trust me, my brother spares no expense. You can hate it all you want, but you don’t have to be ugly doing it.”

She’d made a point I couldn’t argue with. As Maya began rummaging through the dresses, I caught sight of myself in one of the full-length mirrors. All I saw looking back at me was a caged animal.

“I won’t be your dress-up doll,” I snapped, even as Maya held up a particularly elaborate gown.

She raised an eyebrow. “No? Then what will you be, Demi? Because, like it or not, this wedding is happening. You can fight it every step of the way, or you can put on your big girl panties and find a way to make it work for you.”

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. She was right again, of course. I hated to admit it, but I needed to keep thinkingstrategically. If I was going to find a way out of this mess, I needed to keep playing the game . . . until I won.

An hour later, we were still sifting through a sea of wedding dresses, each one more stunning than the last. Still, nothing felt right. But how could it be when everything about the moment was wrong? Maya held up a delicate lace gown, and I shook my head with a frown. It was beautiful, but there was something else on my mind. If I had Ozias’s relative all to myself, I needed to make use of it and pick her brain for anything I could use against him. I decided to stop pouting about my circumstances and seize the moment.

I glanced at Maya, trying to find the right words while she searched for another dress to try and wow me. “I always thought Ozias was an only child before today,” I said casually. “What was he like as a kid?”

Maya's eyes lit up as if a lightbulb had gone off inside her head. “Let me guess, you want me to dig back in my memory and pull out all the sentimental stories I have of him, right? Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you, but there’s nothing like that to share.”

“What do you mean?”

“Ozias is my half-brother. We share the same father. We didn’t grow up in the same house together, didn’t celebrate holidays or birthdays together, and we damn sure didn’t have the same relationship with our father.”

“Why not?” I asked, ears burning to learn more.

Maya arched a questioning brow. “How much do you know about my brother?”

“Nothing. He’s so hard and guarded. Every time I think I’m seeing a softer side of him, it changes like the phases of the fucking moon.”

“Ozias is protective. He always has been, especially after losing his mother at such a young age. He felt the need to grow up early, be a man and shit.”

“How’d his mother die?”

Maya sighed. “I probably shouldn’t be telling you all this, but fuck it. You’re about to be his wife. Ozias was born in Texas but grew up here in Mexico with his mother. I didn’t come along until seven years later when our father married my mother. By that time, Ozias’s mother had been dead for years. She was murdered when he was really young, which obviously had a crazy traumatic impact on him growing up. My mother died in a car accident when I was eight, so I get it.”

“Mine died in childbirth,” I added, volunteering information about my past.

“See, so you get it. That shit fucks up a kid in ways not many people can understand.”

I nodded, understanding. “Yeah.”

“Anyway, fast forward; when I was thirteen, our father passed away from a heart attack. Ozias was twenty, and although they never had a good relationship, I knew he felt a way about the loss. That’s when he and I started to get closer. He felt the need to step up and protect me since I was his baby sister. Y’know, typical big brother shit.”

My lips lifted in a half-smirk. I liked hearing about his softer side. It reminded me that there was still a human heart beating beneath the monster’s outer shell. I felt a sense of warmth filling me as I listened and learned more about Ozias’s tragic past.

“Thanks for sharing. So, do you live in Mexico too?”

“No. I’m only here for the wedding. I live in Texas.”

“Texas?”

“Yup. Just over the border. I oversee my brother’s pharmaceutical branches throughout the state and do some interior design work on the side. It’s my true passion. But enough about me. Let’s put the focus back on finding you a dress before your ceremony in a few hours. What do you think about this one?” she probed, holding up a simple ivory gown.

I shrugged instead of turning up my nose. Maybe one of the reasons I didn’t want to put in the effort of entertaining her was because the last person I’d gone dress shopping with was Samara. It still hurt too much to fully unpack the fact that I couldn’t pick up the phone and call her. But none of that mattered. I hadn’t seen my phone in days, and even if I had it, she was no longer around to answer.

“Might I remind you, Ozias will require you to walk down the aisle to him, whether you’re in a dress of your choosing or as naked as the day you came screaming into this earth. Fucking pick something already!” she demanded, showing her dark side.

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