Page 41 of The Love Language of the Cartel

His expression softened slightly. “This dance we’ve been doing these past few weeks has caused me to have feelings for you that stretch far beyond lust, and I think you have those same feelings for me.”

I shook my head, trying to clear it of the thoughts I’d been trying to suppress. Obviously, I’d been doing a poor job of hiding how badly I wanted him. But I was tired of pretending I didn’t want Ozias to come and break my back every waking minute. I could spend all day riding his sexy ass face.

I cleared my throat in an effort to dismiss my inappropriate thoughts. “I’d call it Stockholm Syndrome, maybe. Or just plain insanity.”

“Is it insanity to find a connection where you least expect it?” He inched a step closer, and I had to tilt my head up to maintain eye contact. “It must be so maddening to discover that the villain in your story isn’t as monstrous as you once assumed.”

His words echoed my own thoughts from earlier, and it unnerved me. “You’re still a criminal, Ozias. A cartel leader. A kidnapper.”

“And you’re the daughter of a mafia don,” he countered. “We’re both products of our worlds, Demi. But that doesn’t mean we can’t take what we learned and build something better.”

I laughed bitterly. “Build something better? What does that even mean? I’m here because you needed a bargaining chip against my father.”

Ozias’s hand came up to cup my face, his thumb tracing my lower lip. I should’ve bit him or shoved him away. Instead, I found myself leaning into his gentle touch. A part of me—a nagging, treacherous part—never wanted Ozias to stop touching me. I melted every time he gave me a glimpse of his softer side. There was something about his presence that made my racing thoughts stop.

“You were a means to an end, yes,” he admitted. “But you’ve become so much more than that. Can’t you feel that shit? Admit it.”

I closed my eyes, overwhelmed by the conflicting emotions warring within me. Part of me wanted to scream, to fight, to demand he take me back to Chicago immediately. But another part—a part that was growing stronger every day—wanted to stay right here, in the moment, with him. I felt tethered to him in a way that surpassed a ball and chain.

“I don’t know what I feel anymore,” I confessed, my voice barely above a whisper. “Everything’s so confusing. You’ve turned my world upside down, O.”

His other hand came to rest on my waist, reeling me in closer. “I like it when you call me that.”

I sucked my teeth. “Whatever.”

“Seriously though. Perhaps it needed to be turned upside down. Maybe this is exactly where you’re meant to be.”

I opened my eyes, meeting his intense gaze. “And where is that, exactly? In the arms of my kidnapper husband? In a foreign country, cut off from everything and everyone I’ve ever known or loved?”

“In a place where you can finally be yourself,” he responded without hesitation. “Where you’re not bound by your father’sexpectations or the rigid rules of your family’s world. Here, with me, you can be free.”

The irony of his words didn’t escape my attention. “Free? As your captive bride?”

He swung his head in a no. “Never as my captive. As my equal. My partner. My wife.”

I raised a questioning brow. “Partner? In what, exactly? Your criminal empire?”

His lips quirked into a smirk. “Why not? You have the intelligence, the craft. You understand this world better than most. Together, we could be fuckin’ unstoppable.”

The offer was tempting. I couldn’t deny that. To have real power, real work—something I’d never truly had under my father’s thumb and watchful eye. But could I trust Ozias? Hell, could I trust myself?

“And what if I say no?” I challenged, unable to douse the fire inside me. “What if I tell you I want to go home?”

His grip on my waist tightened slightly. “Is that truly what you want, Demi? To return to Chicago, to your father’s control? To be married off to the highest bidder for the sake of alliances and power?”

I cringed at the reminder of my father’s plans for me—to marry me off to the next highest bidder or killer. Ozias saw it, and his expression softened.

“I’m not holding you prisoner here. If you want to leave, I won’t stop you. But I’maskingyou to stay. To give this—give us—a real chance. And I never ask people for anything.”

I searched his face, looking for any sign of deception. But all I saw was sincerity and something that looked dangerously close to love.

“I still don’t know if I can trust you,” I admitted.

He nodded. “I understand. Trust must be earned. But just know, if I didn’t give a fuck, I’d hold back a whole lot more fromyou, but I’m an open book with you, and that shit just doesn’t happen with me. Ever. It's not in my nature at all.”

I took a deep breath, considering my choices. Return to Chicago, to the life that suffocated me? Or stay here, in this beautiful, dangerous new world, with this beautiful, dangerous man?

“I need some time,” I said, clearing my throat before I changed the subject. “Have you heard any news?” I probed.

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