Page 52 of My Desire (Mi Deseo)

I make a face. “That’s fucking sick.”

“It’s shady cartel business practice,Diabla.”

I shake my head, disgust rolling through me at the thought of using anyone’s mother as leverage to get what they want, yet here I am, considering it myself.

“Believe me, Vicenta, Alvaro will hand your brother over to me. Vicente can stay with my sister Katalina, and I’ll make sure you have contact with him anytime you want. Hell, he can even stay with us—whatever you want. All I’m asking for is a month with you.”

Being reminded of Katalina, the pretty Herrera girl who was betrothed to Alvaro, has my teeth grinding.

I do not care, I tell myself.He’s not mine and I will not weep for what was never mine to begin with.

Rising from my seat, I nod my head. “I will give you my answer when you’ve gotten my brother to safety. Until then, no pretending, no fake sweetness...nothing. I’ll stay here, but you and I are not playing any games.”

He stares at me for a moment, his eyes caressing my face in a tender way that makes me want to throat punch him.

He holds out his hand. “Then we have a deal.”

I bite my lip before sliding my hand into his. He calls meDiabla, but it’s me who feels like I’m shaking hands with the devil.

Will this deal be paid for with my blood or with my heart?

* * *

It’s the night before the meeting between Alvaro and Romero, and I find myself wracked with anxiety. I’ve been cooped up inside this fucking penthouse for so long that the six days blended together seamlessly. I just want to get on a bike and ride until the engine gives out. I want to feel the purr of the motor, the power of the speed, and the thrill of dancing with death.

That last thought has me thinking of both Alvaro and Romero.

They are death.

They are themuertemen.

Is this why I’m so drawn to them? I thought my stupid choices with Alvaro were because I was naive and while I still agree with that, I’m wondering now if it’s because he represents everything I’ve always been drawn to.

Speed, adrenaline, risk…a dance with death.

I sigh and roll over on the mattress, my eyes focusing on the moon above me.

Romero represents all of that as well. He’s as cruel as a fall from a bike, as tricky as a wheelie at top speeds, and as perilous as a death wobble.

The moon stares down at me like she’s listening to my turbulent thoughts, giving me comfort as she hums her nightly tune over Acapulco.

I sigh and stand, pushing my hair from my face as I look toward the closed bedroom door. Romero is out there, listening to me through the door as he usually does.

I’m surprised he hasn’t knocked on the door and asked me to build a snowman or some shit.

The first few nights after agreeing to his compromise, I cried until I passed out on the floor and each following morning I’d wake up in my bed. It reminded me so much of my first night in the Banderas mansion.

I knew it was Romero. I knew he was listening to my cries, waiting for me to fall asleep so he could carry me to my bed.

I’ve dreamt of him, basking in his touch and attention as he held me close, wiping each stray tear from my eye as I whispered my sorrows to him.

But those were dreams. Pretty wishes against the ugly reality both him and Alvaro have left me with.

In the closet hangs all of the clothes Romero had bought and delivered for me. Most of the clothes are over the top and definitely not my style at all. I shake my head at the waste of money and bypass all of the sexy, yet classy, dresses and the power outfits in favor of black leggings to wear under my long, white dress shirt.

Once I’m comfortable, I move to the door, but I stop myself from opening it. I want to seek him out, ask him to lie to me and play pretend for the night, but I’m too scared to do it. I’m too scared that the lies will form into truths in my weak heart. He said he wants me to act as though I’m falling for him, as though I have no other man in my heart, no one else who bombards my thoughts day and night.

No one else who has betrayed me as he has.

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