Page 21 of Marrying the Mobster
“I’m in control of your life, Elena,” he reminds me. “Once I’m gone, there’s no one here to say whether you should be allowed to live. You will have killed the head of an entire cartel, and I can promise every last one of them is going to want you dead for it. If I die, you die.”
“I’m going to die anyway! If I can’t change that, I’d rather go down fighting!”
Diego gives me a sad look, almost as if he pities me. “You can’t win, so put the gun down. There’s no use making this harder than it has to be.”
Fuck that. If I have to die, I’m going to make this as difficult for him as I can. Diego realizes I’m about to pull the trigger, his eyes widening and his nostrils flaring. The violent kick of the gun is more than I expected, jerking my wrist upward and sending a rattling pain down my arm. I stumble backward, but before I can fall onto my ass, a hand grips my wrist and wrenches me upward. Diego’s furious face fills my vision, the gun firing again as he yanks me toward him.
Diego curses in Spanish as he twists my wrist, forcing me to release the gun with a sharp cry. It clatters to the floor, and he spins me and twists my arm behind my back before sharply wrenching it up. My eyes water, the agony of it forcing me to my knees. Keeping tight hold of me, Diego crouches to pick up the gun. He then forces me to my feet and propels me toward the stairs. His men part like the Red Sea to let us pass, their solemn eyes boring into me. Jovan stands halfway up, a pistol in one hand. He gives me a pitying look before averting his eyes, and that tells me everything I need to know.
I won’t live to see the sunrise.
When we reach the second floor, Marcella appears from the shadows wearing a short silk robe over a matching nightgown. She must have seen the entire thing. It’s written all over her face as she throws herself in our direction, pleading hands held out.
“Diego, don’t,” she begs. “You know you’ll regret this!”
“She almost shot me!” Diego roars, pushing me ahead of him. “Get out of the way, Marcella! Go back to bed.”
She stands firm, forcing us to stop. “No. I’m not a little kid anymore, and I know exactly who and what you are. If you want to kill her, do it right here where I can see.”
“Goddamn it, Marcie!”
“No!” she screams, face reddening and eyes filling with tears. “You won’t hide this from me like you do everything else. Kill her where I can see. Shoot this innocent woman in front of me!”
Jovan comes into view, rounding me and Diego and reaching for Marcella. “Come on, Marcie. You need to go back to bed.”
Marcella struggles against Jovan as he lifts her off her feet and moves her aside. Diego shoves me past them, ignoring Marcella’s screaming as we move farther down the hall.
“You fucking coward! You pussy! Fucking face me!”
Diego stops abruptly in front of a door, the nose of the pistol jabbing at my spine. “Open it.”
I obey without thinking, my instincts shifting to self-preservation. There doesn’t seem to be any way out of this, but I won’t stop trying to find one.
We enter what I assume is Diego’s bedroom. It’s decorated in stark black and white with gold embellishments. A massive fireplace takes up one wall, but it looks like it’s never been lit. A large bed sits in the middle of the room on a platform, and expensive-looking furniture in a modern design takes up the rest of the space. It smells like him in here—spicy and masculine, with a hint of cigar smoke.
I back away from Diego while he slams the door and turns a key in the lock before shoving it into his pocket. Then, he charges toward me like a bull, huffing and raising the gun. I choke down a scream of terror, shaking from head to toe when he stops within inches of me. I can see down the barrel of the pistol, feel the murderous rage radiating off Diego.
“I should blow your fucking brains out,” he growls. “You and your shit-head father have turned out to be far more trouble than you’re worth.”
One of his words jump out at me, and I latch on to it with hope. “Youshouldkill me? Does that mean you’re not going to?”
Diego grabs hold of my shoulder. His fingers dig into the muscle as he pulls me toward him, pressing the gun under my jaw. “I’m sorely tempted. Aguilar left town, which means the chances of me recovering my money has just been reduced to none. At this point you’re just another mouth to feed and a pain in my ass.”
I fight the impulse to struggle in his hold and blink blurry eyes. The tears are uncontrollable now, spilling down my cheeks and dropping onto my neck. “Please. If you just let me call him … I’m sure this is a misunderstanding. Let me talk to him, and I’ll get you the money.”
Diego’s jaw tightens and his fingers flex around my shoulder. “And if you can’t get in touch with Daddy? What then?”
I bite my lip and search for the answer … any answer that will keep me breathing for another minute, hour, or day. Despite risking my life to escape, I’m not ready to throw it away just yet. There are still so many things I haven’t experienced. So many years I had planned to fill with a happy future. This can’t be the end.
“I’ll do anything,” I plead, the words tasting like ash on my tongue. “If you let me live, I’ll do whatever you want. Please, Diego.”
Something sparks in his eyes, dark and primal. He inclines his head and studies me, using the pistol to push tangled hair back from my face. The cold steel strokes along my jaw, and a tendril of fear snakes through me … combined with something else. Something frightening.
“Anything,” Diego murmurs, staring down at my mouth. “There’s a lot of room for interpretation there,gatita.”
“I’m desperate,” I hiss through clenched teeth. “I don’t want to die for my father’s fuck-up.”
His hand goes gentle, slipping up my neck. He lowers the gun and grips my jaw, forcing me to maintain his stare. “You don’t know what you’re agreeing to. For a man like me, ‘anything’ literally means … anything.”
