Page 6 of The Love Language of the Cartel

I whipped my head around, fixing Harris with a steely glare. “Tell me what you know about the contract,” I demanded, although my voice was barely above a whisper.

He smirked, clearly savoring the moment when he realized he had one up on me. “More than you, apparently.”

My impending marriage to Rivera was supposed to be a union to end the bloodshed between our families over territory in the South and Midwest and product and solidify our power. If that fell through . . .

“You’re bluffing,” I said with a scoff, but there was a tremor I couldn’t quite hide.

Harris leaned in, his breath hot on my ear. “Am I? You might want to ask your father about his recent negotiations, baby girl. Things aren’t looking too good for the blushing bride-to-be.”

I pulled back, my heart pounding.Is it possible? Has something changed without my knowledge?The uncertainty gnawed at my gut, threatening to shatter the carefully constructed facade of control I’d maintained all evening.

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” I hissed, but even to my own ears, the words lacked conviction.

Harris’s arrogant smirk widened, and there was a predatory glint in his eyes. “Oh, Demi, always so feisty. It’s what I love about you. Well, that and—” He paused, reaching out to touch my arm.

Before he made contact, Dominic’s hand shot out, grabbing Harris by the throat. My loyal cousin’s face was a mask of cold fury as he lifted my ex off his feet.

“She told you to leave, mothafucka” Dominic growled, his grip tightening with every word.

Harris’s eyes bulged, his mahogany brown face turning an alarming shade of dark blue. Part of me wanted to let it continue, to watch him suffer for his arrogance and the pain he’d caused me. But I knew better. We couldn’t afford a scene, not here, not now.

“Dominic,” I muttered, placing a hand on his arm. “That’s enough.”

As if on cue, two of our security personnel appeared, their presence commanding instant attention. Dominic released Harris, who crumpled to the floor like a foldable chair, gasping for air.

“Escort this leech out and put him on the blacklist,” I ordered, despite the turmoil bouncing around inside me. “His ass is no longer welcome here.”

The guards nodded, dragging Harris to his feet. As they marched him away, he managed to rasp out, “This ain’t over, Demi. You’ll see!”

I turned back to the poker table, forcing a likeness of a smile onto my face as the men returned with drinks in hand. “Gentlemen, my apologies for the interruption. Shall we continue?”

The game resumed, but my mind was clearly elsewhere.What if Harris wasn’t bluffing? What if the marriage contract really was in jeopardy?I played mechanically, my usual sharp instincts dulled by worry.

After winning another hand—more due to my opponents’ incompetence than my own skill—I decided it was time to make my exit. “Thank you for a delightful evening, gentlemen,” Ideclared while rising from the table. “But I'm afraid I must retire for the night.”

As Dominic and I made our way through the opulent club, the weight of Harris’s words pressed down on me. I glanced at my bodyguard, noting the tightness around his eyes. “D . . . you don’t think there’s any truth to what Harris’ lying ass was saying, do you?”

Dominic shook his head, his expression grim. “Nah. I doubt it, Demi. That nigga Harris has always been more mouth than brains. You know that. He’s probably just trying to get under your skin so you’ll go back to chasing behind his pansy ass.”

I nodded, but the knot in my stomach didn’t loosen. “You haven’t heard anything? About the contract, I mean?”

“No, not a thing,” Dominic replied, his tone careful. “But if there was any change, I’m sure Unc would inform you directly.”

I chiseled a smile into my features, but inside, doubt chewed away at me. My father had kept things from me before, always under the guise of protection. What if he was doing it again? What if everything I thought I knew about my future was about to come crashing down around me?

Dominic’s hand rested lightly on my back as he guided me to the waiting car, its sleek black exterior gleaming under the streetlights. He opened the rear door, and I slid onto the plush leather seat, the familiar scent of polished wood and new car enveloping me.

“Thank you, D,” I murmured, my mind already racing ahead to the conversation I needed to have with my father.

As Dominic shut the door and made his way to the driver’s seat, I pulled out my phone. My thumb hovered over my father’s contact for a moment before I hit call. The car purred to life as we pulled away from the curb, the city lights blurring past the tinted windows.

One ring. Two. On the third, my father’s gruff voice filled the line. “Demi. What is it?”

I took a deep breath, bracing myself. “Daddy, we need to talk. Harris showed up at the club tonight spouting off about the marriage contract. Talkin’ shit and said it wasn’t going through. How did he even find out about my engagement? What’s going on?”

There was a pause, and it told me everything I needed to know. When my father finally spoke, his tone was carefully controlled. “Ah, Demi. I was going to tell you tomorrow. The contract . . . it’s off. I’m looking at new prospects for you as we speak.”

What in the actual fuck is going on?

---