Page 35 of The Love Language of the Cartel

“Fine. Let’s get this over with,” I said, reaching for the dress Maya was holding.

As I disappeared into the dressing room, I could practically feel Maya’s triumphant smile beaming on the other side of the door. Little did she know, I was already formulating a plan. The dress might’ve been for a wedding, but it was also armor for the war ahead.

Ozias

The clock on my oak-paneled study wall ticked gloomily, each second bringing me closer to both my wedding and a potential bloodbath. Across from me sat Joaquín Valdez, leader of the Jalisco cartel. He leaned back in a leather chair with a smirk playing on his weathered face. His eyes, cold as the Arctic winter far beyond my windows, bore into mine.

“Come now, Ozias.” He paused as his fingers drummed on the polished surface of my desk. “Surely you see the benefits of this alliance. Your territory, our product—the possibilities are endless.”

I resisted the urge to clench my fists, keeping my face expressionless. “And what guarantee do I have that you won’t flood my streets the moment I let you in? Your reputation precedes you, Joaquín.”

He chuckled, a sound devoid of warmth and genuine humor. “Ah, but so does yours, El Diablo. Tell me, how many men have you killed to sit where you are now? How many bodies are underneath your throne?”

The question stirred memories I would’ve rather forgotten—faces contorted in pain, the acrid smell of gunpowder, crimson blood staining my hands. I pushed them aside, focusing on thepresent. My father wasn’t the one who previously held the title of cartel king. It was a role I stole from the man who killed my mother, and I would gladly do it again. “Enough to know that trust is earned, not given freely.”

Joaquín’s eyes narrowed, the amusement fading from his expression. “You’re making a mistake, Rivera. We could crush you if we wanted to.”

“That’s bold of you,” I replied. My hand inched toward the gun holstered at my side, hidden from view beneath the desk. “But I assure you, it wouldn’t end well.”

The tension in the room was intense, thick enough to cut with a knife. I was highly aware of my men positioned strategically around the house, ready to move at a moment’s notice. The meeting was a risk, but one I had to take. The cartel wars had been escalating, and an alliance, as distasteful as it sounded, could’ve been the key to calming things down momentarily.

I might’ve held the highest position, but none of the smaller cartel leaders understood how to work effectively. One pissed off another. One stole another’s product. It was a complete shitshow.

Just as Joaquín opened his mouth to respond, the door to my study swung open. My heart nearly stopped as Demi walked in.

“You’ll be pleased to know I—” she began, her voice trailing off as her eyes landed on Joaquín. The smile on her face faded, replaced by a mix of surprise and caution.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still. I soaked in Demi’s appearance—the curve of her hips accentuated by her fitted skirt, the caramel skin of her neck exposed by her upswept hair. She was breathtaking, and the sight of her sent a jolt of possessiveness straight to the tip of my dick. But her presence was a complication I couldn’t afford at the moment.

“Demi,” I called out, keeping my tone steady despite the turmoil inside me. “I’m in the middle of a meeting. We can talk later.”

Her brown eyes pinged between Joaquín and me, understanding dawning in their depths. “Of course,” she replied, her tone clipped. “I’ll leave you to it.”

As she turned to leave, Joaquín’s voice cut through the air like a knife. “Well, well. What do we have here? Ozias, you didn’t tell me you had such . . . exquisite taste in women.”

I bristled at his words, at the way his eyes roved over Demi’s physique when she turned to walk away. My fingers twitched, itching to reach for my gun and put a bullet between his eyes. But I couldn’t afford to lose control, not now.

“This is my fiancée, Demi.” I introduced her, my tone warning Joaquín to tread carefully. “We’re getting married in a couple of hours.”

Joaquín’s eyebrows shot up to his receding hairline as a wolfish grin spread across his face. “Married? Today? My, my, Ozias. You are full of surprises, aren’t you, my boy?”

Demi, to her credit, didn’t flinch under Joaquín’s scrutiny. She lifted her chin, meeting his gaze with a defiance that made me equally proud and anxious. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr.. . .?”

“Valdez,” Joaquín answered while standing up and moving toward her like a shark. “Joaquín Valdez. The pleasure is all mine, Ms.. . .?”

“Malone,” Demi replied cooly. “Demi Malone.”

I watched as recognition flashed in Joaquín’s eyes, his smile turning predatory. My muscles tensed, ready to spring into action if needed. The air in the room seemed to thicken instantly, charged with an electricity that threatened to ignite at any moment.

“Malone?” Joaquín repeated, his voice deceptively casual. “Any relation to Cyrus Malone, by chance?”

I swallowed hard, and my throat suddenly became bone dry.

Joaquín’s eyes widened in recognition, a slow smile curling up one side of his face. “Demi Malone, is it? Her father’s crossed me more times than I can count,” he indicated with malice dripping in his tone.

Before I could react, before I could even process the threat in his words, Joaquín moved with startling speed for a man of his age. His hand shot out, grabbing Demi’s arm. She let out a surprised gasp of pain, her eyes meeting mine in a moment of shared shock.

“You’re going to pay for what your father did,” Joaquín snarled, yanking her roughly.

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