Page 54 of The Love Language of the Cartel

Before her, love always seemed like a distraction, a weakness I couldn’t afford as the head of a cartel. But somehow, Demi had managed to change all of that. In her, I found something I nevereven knew I wanted, let alone needed—someone who saw me for the man I was beneath the carnage of El Diablo.

Determined to lift her spirits, I decided to do something thoughtful for her. Although I hadn’t mentioned it to her directly, I did have the decency to have her father’s body cremated and his ashes shipped back to Chicago out of respect and as a warning to the fucking Russians and anyone else who stood with the Malones. I stood at her bedside, watching her sleep peacefully for the first time in days, and almost felt bad for waking her. Still, I nudged her with a gentle hand on her shoulder. She stirred, blinking up at me.

“We’re flying to Chicago today,” I announced, answering the question burning in her sleepy eyes. “I need to handle some business at the Midwest office, and I thought you might appreciate the change of scenery. Maybe you can even see a friend or family member while we’re up there.”

Demi sat up, smoothing down her bedhead while taking a moment to process my announcement. Her blunt reply was filled with unmistakable honesty. “Everyone I cared about is dead. There’s no one I want to see. I don’t trust anybody but you.”

Her words were simple, but to me, they meant more than “I love you” ever could. Demi trusted and depended on me—and in the cartel, trust was as fragile as glass. It meant everything to me to hear her say that.

Without hesitation, I leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, hovering over her as I softened my voice. “Pack light,mi amor. We leave within the hour.”

As I left the room to finalize my preparations for our trip, I felt something shift inside me.Demi had become my number one priority, and I would do everything in my power to protect, provide for, and love her—even if I had to burn down the world to do it.

The lulling hum of the engines filled the cabin as my private jet soared through the sky.

I sat across from Demi in my plush leather seating, my eyes flickering toward her as she lazily gazed out the expansive window while her fingers distractedly traced circles against her exposed thigh. She hadn’t said more than a few words since we boarded, and her stillness was starting to gnaw at my insides.

I leaned back in my reclined seat and ran a hand over my nape. At first, I told myself to give her breathing room. After all, it had been an emotional few days, and she was probably still trying to process everything while still being able to walk and breathe. But the more the silence stretched on, the more frustrated I became underneath my calm exterior. I wanted to know where her head was and, more importantly, where we stood. We hadn’t spoken about what I’d told her since I said the words, and the uncertainty had started to drive my ass crazy.

Finally, I couldn’t take that shit anymore. “Demi,” I barked, my voice harsh as it slashed through the silence. It was more razor-sharp than I intended, but I pressed on. “Have you forgotten how to speak? Or are you planning to sit here in silence the entire fucking flight?”

She twisted her neck in my direction, prying her attentive gaze away from the panoramic views of the skies. She blinked a few times, visibly surprised as she flashed her long lashes and knitted her brows together. “Children need to be entertained, Ozias. I didn’t realize you were one,” she replied with an edge to her words.

“That’s not what the fuck I meant,” I grunted, hearing the rise in my tone. “I’m trying to be here, Demi. I’m trying to fuckingdo something nice for you, to be present for you, to be strong for you, and I feel like I’m sitting across from a ghost. I mean, shit. What the fuck do you want from me?”

Making her smile felt almost as good as making her moan, and I hadn’t seemed to be able to do either in days, which led me to entertain the thought that maybe she didn’t feel the same way I did. At first, I thought it was the grief that had her tongue bound, but it was deeper than that. I needed someone who could love me at my worst. If she could love her father, I knew she could carve out a place in her heart for me. Couldn’t she?

Demi’s brown jaw tightened as her back stiffened against the seat. “I want you to shut the fuck up so I have time to think without being dissected and cross-examined every fucking second!” she hissed.

“Fuck,” I growled, feeling the heat of frustration and lust warring underneath my skin. I lurched forward. “You’re fuckin’ beautiful when you’re mad.”

She paused, ready for an argument, but my compliment had stopped her dead in her tracks. She didn’t know what the fuck to say next. She was speechless. I didn’t add a joke or make a face. Nothing shifted in my expression. It was just a statement, as a matter of fact.

“What?” she asked.

All the heat in her chest had dissolved.

“You probably get that a lot, but still, I wanted you to know I think you’re beautiful when you do that thing with your eyebrows. And then there’s this pouty thing you do with your bottom lip. It only happens when you’re pissed off. It’s equally fucking stunning and infuriating.”

Again, she was speechless. For the first time, her silence was welcomed. Suddenly, my full, soft lips were pressed against hers. She melted into my embrace like butter, and for a second, all was right with the world.

I wrapped my arms around her petite waist and pulled her on top of my lap, making her body flush with mine. “You still mad?” I asked in between tender kisses.

“Yes, actually,” she answered breathlessly. I felt the heat rush through my body. Desire overtook us both. Demi lifted her hips off my lap and moved her legs so that she was straddling me.

That was all I needed to know that she was into this as much as I was.

I bent her backward, lifted her legs, and nudged them over my shoulders before placing her on her back against her seat and reclined it. My mouth peppered kisses against her lips, cheeks, and neck.

I couldn’t get enough of her. I couldn’t keep my lips or hands off of her. Her smooth palms slid up and down my back, feeling every muscle, every curve.

My hands slithered down her body and slipped into the front of her crop top. I moved my thumb in circular motions on her stomach, then slid down and lifted her shirt up to her black lace bra and kissed her stomach while still caressing her soft skin in circular motions.

I lifted her up and slid my hands behind her back. The bra was off in a second. I tossed it to the side. “Still mad?”

“Please, don’t make me talk right now.”

I chuckled into her stomach. “What? Why not?”

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