Devil's Bride: A Dark Mafia Romance, page 3
He never forgot the bottom line.
I’d also consider him a friend after everything we’d been through. Trust was a commodity well worth cultivating.
And taking with a grain of salt.
A bottle of water was shoved into my hand. I quickly took a swig then poured the rest over my head. After tossing the bottle on the floor, a glass of whiskey appeared. My employees knew what I liked and never failed me.
“What is it, Kruz?”
“Your father. He’s summoned you to his residence.”
I laughed. My father had long since given up control, but even in his retirement, he preferred maintaining avid awareness of business activities and any threats thrown in our direction. There was no real love lost between us, the savage man all but erased from my life.
Other than for family obligations, I rarely returned to my childhood residence. My absence wasn’t based on disrespect or hatred. Rafael Torres was a legend and the very reason I held my position as a brutal drug lord. The reason was much more simplistic. I was far too busy with our corporate holdings and keeping our product from the grubby hands of our enemies.
“Was the meeting productive?” he asked. I’d taken only two of my men with me as a sign of solidarity, something I now regretted.
“No, although it was interesting.” I grinned as I thought about the lovely woman I’d met in the hallway on my way out. While the stench of the man’s blood remained in my nostrils, so did her scent, a beautiful light floral mixed with exotic spices.
“For you that usually means you hooked up with a woman.”
“Not the way I wanted to.” I tossed the towel around my neck and took a swig of my drink. “Did my father say why he requested a meeting?”
“Only that you needed to come as soon as possible.”
Gritting my teeth, I nodded just as a voluptuous blonde swaggered her way in my direction. It would seem satisfying my other brutal needs would need to wait.
While my parents maintained a lavish lifestyle, they’d insisted on remaining in the sprawling Mediterranean home they’d lived in for almost forty-five years. While there had been recent renovations completed throughout the estate, the bones were mostly the same. I had fond memories of my youth.
Even if my father’s firm hand would be considered one of a true savage.
At least I’d developed a strong backbone with every act of punishment.
The man still held an aura of power, feared by thousands. He’d recently made an example of a man caught bedding his mistress. The public display had been watched on closed-circuit television by thousands of people.
As I took long strides down the terracotta tiled floor, I thought about how my loafers managed to echo. Small things amused me since few things did.
I didn’t bother knocking, heading past my father’s hitmen into his personal space. No woman had ever entered the expansive room, including my mother.
“Papa. You had an urgent summons.”
My father was perched on his usual leather chair with a book in one hand, a glass of cognac in the other, a smoking cigar perfectly placed in the marble ashtray. He read another page before leaning over and placing the book on the coffee table, grabbing the cancer stick as soon as he did.
“That will eventually kill you,” I told him.
He grinned. “Thank God, something will. Come. Make a drink. Sit with your old man.”
That meant whatever he had to say was important. I knew all his habits, but I was one of the few who did. He’d made it his mission early in life to keep people guessing.
He gave me a disapproving look. The man had always hated my choice of cargo pants and work boots over more formal attire. Rarely was he seen without one of his signature Italian suits, usually gifts from a tailor who owed my father more than just his gratitude.
I unbuttoned my jacket, shoving one hand into the pocket of my linen trousers as I headed for the bar.
“You look like some episode of a bad American television show from the eighties. Would it do you harm to wear a suit just once?”
“I could have arrived in my gym shorts directly from the fight.” I grabbed a crystal tumbler, waiting as his eyes lit up.
“Ah. You should have called me. I would have been there.”
“You didn’t miss much, Papa. The opponent was… weak.” I chuckled and poured my favorite brand of whiskey, foregoing any ice.
“Weakness. Such a shame. I’m certain you put on a show.”
He might not approve of many of my activities, but he’d taught me every move I’d used over the years. With my glass in hand, I moved to the couch, plopping down and immediately crossing my legs. “What’s on your mind?”
“You haven’t heard the news.”
“What news?”
“They are trying to keep it quiet. They failed.” He grinned and took a puff of his cigar.
“Playing games now?” I eyed him suspiciously as I took a gulp of my drink.
He leaned forward. “Julio Morales is dead, gunned down inside a restaurant. I believe the one you were at this evening.”
I lifted an eyebrow. “Really? That is news.” I was surprised I’d yet to hear anything. Morales was a pig, a man with no scruples whatsoever. However, he’d been considered a direct enemy through the years, although I’d never considered him much of a decent opponent. The man’s operation was half our size. “Who?”
“I was wondering the same thing. I thought perhaps you took it upon yourself to eliminate an opponent.”
There were no alliances in our world, no sense of fair play. With so many crime syndicates from other countries breathing down our necks, we’d learned a long time ago our merciless methods of handling business kept both our employees and other mafia leaders in line.
Perhaps that’s why Morales had been hit. Over the years he’d forgotten the golden rule.
Violence solved all evils.
“I can’t take credit for it. Killing him could have started a war.”
He waved his hand as if the violence meant nothing. I had no issues killing whoever was necessary in whatever means created the most fear and loyalty, but business came first.
Besides, we had a large shipment of drugs that needed handling with careful gloves.
“Do you not understand what this means?” he asked.
“The Morales Empire is in jeopardy. I’ll add the takeover of their territory to my list of activities.”
His expression hardened. “Don’t fuck with me, Jago. There is no decent heir.”
I thought about what he was suggesting. I knew little about the man’s family and quite frankly, I didn’t think learning anything about them was important. “No son?”
“The boy is underage and no one will take him seriously. That’s not the issue. Next in line is his daughter, Genevieve. From what I understand, she’s already promised revenge.”
I laughed, which turned into a slight choke. In our world, women were never allowed to be in control of operations. Was it a Neanderthal way of thinking? To some, perhaps, but wives and female children were cherished, even if there were some women considered toys and nothing else.
Did I think a female leader could be as cunning as a man? Absolutely. Did I think she would have the stomach for the violence and bloodshed needed? Not by a long shot.
“Good for her. I’m certain the men in her father’s employ are overjoyed at her intentions.” She would be considered weak by those closest to her father. That meant she’d have no loyalty or respect and could easily be picked off by any enemies, including from within.
“From what little I’ve learned about her, she’s a force to be reckoned with, but I think we both know she’ll never succeed.”
“Yes, I guess we do. What are you asking of me?”
He rubbed his finger across his bottom lip. “Julio had his hands in several businesses and they would be good for us to acquire.”
“What are you suggesting? That I have her killed?”
“She could be reasonable as she already left the country and her father’s empire once.”
“Meaning?”
“She was schooled in America. She is an attorney. Rumor has it she was tasked to take over as the family abogada.”
“Their corporate attorney. I’m surprised.” Very much so. To place her in such a powerful position was highly irregular.
“Yes, so are her father’s men, I suspect. However, it could mean she’s reasonable. Why not try and buy her out? We have the money. Her brother and sister can live and you can offer her the home she grew up in as a bargaining chip.”
“You mean instead of burning it to the ground.”
He grinned. “You are very much like me. Exactly. It’s worth a try.”
“Yes, I suppose it is. One discussion won’t interfere.”
“If she refuses?” He tipped his head.
I took another swig of the whiskey then swirled the liquid. “Then the answer is simple. I’ll take everything she owns and put a bullet in her head.”
My father laughed.
Yes, our business and our methods were ruthless.
But absolutely necessary.
CHAPTER 4
Genevieve
“I need to know what happened,” I repeated as I stormed through the house, finding it even more difficult to breathe. I’d been forced away from my father, whisked back to a home where it no longer felt as if I belonged.
I’d been separated from Bella and had yet to hear from my brother. For all I knew, he’d been taken or killed. My mind was a fucking blur of thoughts and anger that I’d yet to control.
And fear.
So much fear.
Every soldier I’d passed had kept eye contact, none offering their condolences. In their eyes, I was merely a lost little girl they likely felt no sadness for.
Fuck them.
“You need to calm down,” Emiliano said quietly.
“How am I supposed to?” I was close to being hysterical, forcing myself to take several deep breaths. My father’s office door was closed. I hesitated once I reached it, holding my hand on the knob. I sensed I was being watched, my behavior resonating throughout the estate.
After taking another deep breath, I opened the door, only to find my younger brother already inside. “Marco. You’re alive.”
He snorted. “Of course I’m alive.”
The heady round of arrogance I’d left had only intensified.
“What are you doing in here?” I asked, trying to remember he was still a child, at least in the eyes of the law.
“Our father is dead. What do you think? We need to regain control. We need to hunt down the men responsible.”
Marco was seventeen, the mirror of our father in looks and in demeanor except he had a cruel streak tempered by almost nothing.
“I will. You don’t need to worry about it.”
Before he had a chance to argue with me, Bella swept into the room. My little sister was a true angel, protected from the brutality our world offered. She had tears in her eyes and she flung herself at me.
“Oh, sissy. What are we going to do?”
I wrapped my arms around her, closing my eyes briefly, envisioning the horrible tragedy for the tenth time. “It’ll be okay, sweetheart. I promise you.”
“You can’t promise anything. You don’t know what’s been happening,” Marco insisted.
He was right, although his disrespect only added fuel to the fire, which I didn’t need right now. I had to maintain some level of control or chaos would ensue. “I will do what it takes, Marco. Now, we all need to calm down. I have things to do.”
“You have things to do,” he challenged. “What could you possibly know?”
“Just shut up!” Bella yelled. “Our father is dead. Dead!” Her sobs continued, the wretched sound breaking my heart.
I pulled her away, rubbing tears from under her eyes. “Why don’t you go up to your room. I’ll be there in a little while. Everything will work out.” It was at that moment I regretted leaving her for so many years. I also hated the fact I could be lying to her.
She nodded, sucking in her breath and hugging me tightly again. When she finally let go, I glanced at Emiliano. He knew what was at stake. A strike would need to occur quickly, or my father’s business would be threatened.
She ran off just as Antonio walked into the room. He wore no expression, but I knew the man well enough to know I should brace myself.
“What is it?” I asked.
“The shooter was found.”
“Good. Bring him to me.”
“I don’t think you want me to do that.”
“Antonio. Do not argue with me. Not now. Not ever. Do you understand?” I tried to keep an authoritative voice, but I was shaking and likely visibly. The last thing I needed to do was to show any sign of weakness.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Ma’am. By birthright, I was now the drug lord, although I had no idea what you called a female plunged into this position. It was unchartered territory. Still, I should be offered the same respect as my father.
He skulked out and Emiliano immediately walked toward me. I threw my hand out, shaking my head.
While he stopped in his tracks, I could tell he was worried and annoyed.
“You don’t know what you’re doing,” Marco added, his chiding words irritating me.
“Maybe not in the way you’re thinking, Marco, but right now, I’m the one in charge.”
“Not for long.”
I controlled my emotions and my anger while turning my head toward him. With his pinched face and hate-filled eyes, I was reminded once again of his age, certainly not ready to run an organization where violence and death were constants.
“Leave, Marco,” I told my brother.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
I sighed. It was truly getting difficult controlling my anger around him. I was standing in a fancy dress and heels, our father’s blood covering me, and he wanted to argue who was better suited to run the empire.
“Go. Now.” I snapped my head in his direction.
He huffed, but thankfully, stormed from the room. Only then did I take a deep breath.
As I heard footsteps, I steeled myself. I’d need to act quickly, doling out punishment without wincing or reacting in any way. How in the hell was I going to do that? I was no fucking leader, at least not in the eyes of men who used women, tossing them away when they were finished with their fun and games.
As several of the hitmen entered and I didn’t see an enemy soldier being dragged in, I glanced at my commander who shrugged.
I’d seen many horrible things in my youth, although my father had done everything in his power to shield me from the worst of his required actions. What I didn’t expect was for one or more of the men to take my earlier command as gospel.
Antonio was watching my reaction as were all the others as the large silver platter was brought into the room.
It was a test of my willpower and strength. My stomach immediately did flip-flops, bile rising up from my throat, but I forced myself to keep from reacting. With sheer determination, I walked closer, taking my time doing so. Once standing in front of the repulsive gift, I glanced from one to another of the men in the room, locking eyes with them.
Goddamn all of them. They wanted and expected me to break.
“Make certain pictures are taken and sent out to all our enemies. I want people to know what happens to anyone who fucks with the Morales Cartel. And I want the person responsible found. That’s your main objective. Find him.” With that, I spit on the head and took a decided step away.
No one said anything.
“Did I make myself clear? You do not want me to repeat myself.”
“Yes, Madame Morales. We’ll take care of it,” Emiliano answered for all of them, but that wasn’t good enough for me.
I offered one more look at every man until they all lowered their heads out of respect.
Point one for me.
Meanwhile, I was shaking like a leaf in a heavy thunderstorm.
I stood right where I was, daring anyone to defy me.
Fortunately, no one did, but I sensed utter disappointment I hadn’t fallen apart. I was furious they were testing me, hoping to prove I was nothing but a weak little girl.
Fuck them.
The sadness was extreme, my chest aching from doing nothing more than trying to breathe normally. Any sign I’d fallen into despair would send a signal I would be unable to recover from. Sadly, I needed time to regroup and grieve. I also needed some time to develop a plan, but who the hell in my organization could I trust?
“Go. Leave me,” I demanded, both raising and deepening my voice. After the soldiers glanced from one to the other, they started filing out one at a time. When the room had mostly emptied, only Emiliano and Antonio remained.
As soon as the door was closed, I slowly lowered my head. The quiet was deafening, something I hadn’t understood until this moment. There were at least fifty people in and around the grounds, staff members keeping the inner workings on a typical schedule while hitmen walked the exterior of the estate, yet I’d never felt so lonely in my life.
My legs were heavy as I walked toward the set of doors leading to the outside. My father had loved his view of the fountain just outside. In the warm weather, he’d open them, allowing both fresh air and the sound of rippling water to penetrate the room. It was his calming mechanism.
“My father used to lock himself inside his office after a difficult day. He told me more than once only the sound of the fountain managed to ease his rage.” I unlocked the doors, taking my time opening them. The light breeze was chilly, but the breath of fresh air ate away at the horrible stench of blood remaining in my nose. I honestly wondered if the odor would ever completely leave.
I sensed Emiliano’s presence behind me while Antonio remained standing near the office door like a statue. He’d been with my father since I could remember, a tough man on the exterior, his horrible scars an indication of the brutality he’d been a part of. But he’d always been kind to me. What now? What should I expect from him after all these years? I’d left Barcelona a girl eager to visit another country and explore new things.
