Page 8 of The Love Language of the Cartel

Cyrus chuckled, but there was a bite to it. “Ah, you know us Chicago natives. We’re built for the cold.”

I reached for the glass of tequila on my desk before taking a slow sip. The burn in my throat was familiar and comforting. “I’m sure you didn’t call just to discuss the weather, Cyrus. What can I do for you?”

There was a pause on the other end of the line. I could almost see him squirming, searching for the right words through the phone. It brought a smirk to my face.

“You’re right, Ozias. This isn’t a social call,” he answered before clearing his throat. “I’m calling about business.”

My grip tightened on the phone. “Business? And here I thought we had concluded our negotiations months ago.”

“Yes, well . . . circumstances change.” Another pause. “I’m afraid there’s been a development regarding the . . . er, arrangement between our families.”

I sat up straighter, my free hand curling into a fist. “What kind of fuckin’ development?”

Cyrus drew in an audible deep breath. “I’m sorry to inform you, Ozias, but you won’t be marrying my daughter after all.”

The words hit me like a physical blow to my gut. For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. Then the rage emerged, hot and familiar, coursing through my veins like liquid fire.

“The fuck you say?” I inquired. “Because I don’t think I heard you correctly, Cyrus.”

“You heard me just fine, Ozias,” he replied, his tone hardened. “The engagement is off. Demi won’t be marrying you.”

I stood abruptly, pacing the length of my office. My mind galloped, calculating the reason this shit could be happening, trying to understand why he would do something as foolish as go back on his word to a man like me. Was he trying to make an even bigger enemy out of me? Was he trying to insult my honor?

“We had a deal, Cyrus. A binding agreement between our organizations,” I reminded him. “I was planning to board my private jet to Chicago to announce our engagement and the alliances between our families.”

“Agreements can be broken. My daughter’s happiness is more important than any business deal.”

I laughed, a harsh, bitter sound. “Her happiness? Don’t fuckin’ insult me, Cyrus. This wasneverabout Demi’s happiness. It was about power, about uniting our empires. About getting the Malones off my shit list. And now you’re backing out?”

“Things change, Ozias. I’m sure you understand.”

“Oh, I understand perfectly.” I stopped at the window, staring out at the city below. In my mind’s eye, I could see Chicago, could see Demi. The prize that was promised to me. “You’ve made a grave mistake, old man.”

His voice sharpened. “Is that a threat?”

I smiled, cold and cruel. “Not at all. Simply making an observation. You’ve chosen to break faith with the cartels. That rarely ends well for anyone.”

“Watch yourself, Ozias.”

“My reach extends far beyond these borders and whatever wall your president promises to build. You’d do well to remember that. But if you forgot who runs this shit, I don’t mind jogging your memory, mothafucka.”

There was a long silence on the other end of the line. When Cyrus spoke again, his tone was tight and barely contained anger. “I’m sorry it’s come to this, Ozias. I truly am. But my decision is final.”

“We’ll see about that.” I ended the call abruptly, resisting the urge to hurl the phone across the room.

For a long moment, I stood there, staring unobservantly at the paradise before me. My mind whirled with plans, possibilities, and bloody fuckin’ revenge.

I’d built my empire on blood and pain, on loyalty and fear. I’d crushed anyone who dared to cross me, who dared to take what was mine. And Demi Malone was mine. She was promised to me—the jewel at the peak of my empire and the key to unlocking even greater power.

I won’t let her slip through my fingers. Not now. Not ever.

My phone buzzed again. It was Ángel, my right-hand man. I answered on the first ring.

“Jefe? Is everything alright?” His voice was concerned. He knew me well enough to sense when something was wrong.

“No, Ángel. Everything is not alright,” I answered as I turned away from the window, my mind made up. “I need you to assemble a team. Our best men. Have them ready to fly to Chicago first thing in the morning.”

There was a pause. “Chicago? What’s going on, O?”

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