Ricardo's POV
The suite is extravagant, the kind of luxury I am accustomed to. But I barely glance at it as I toss my jacket onto a chair and loosen my cuffs.
It's evening, and Lana has been silent since we got to Mexico. She sits on the vanity, pulling her hair free from its tie and brushing through it slowly. I watch her reflection in the mirror, I know what she's thinking.
I smirk. She hates being here with me. Hates being anywhere with me. But it doesn't matter. I pull out my phone and dial my brother.
"Hello, brother," Angelo greets.
"Angelo," I say, "I'm in Mexico."
"What? For what, Ricardo?"
"I'll fill you in later," I reply casually. "But tonight, I have somewhere important to be."
"What is this about? I hope you're not in some kind of trouble."
I chuckle briefly. "No, brother. Don't worry about me, okay?" My eyes shift towards the window. Then, I lower my voice. "Worry about the person following us."
Angelo inhales. "Ricardo fucking Borrelli."
I smirk. "I want you to find him."
"I will. Be safe though."
I nod then I end the call. I slide my phone into my pocket and turn my attention back to Lana. She's still at the vanity, brushing her hair and pretending not to listen.
"This important thing you have to do," she asks, with her eyes still on her reflection. "Are you taking me with?"
I lean against the wall, watching her. "Yeah," I say. "You're part of the plan."
That makes her pause. Slowly, she turns. "You can't drag me into one of your illegal shit. I'm not doing whatever it is you want me to do."
I snap. Since when does she think she gets a say? Before she can blink, I'm behind her. My hand tangles in her hair, gripping it tightly and tilting her head back. I lean down with my lips brushing against her ear as I murmur with fury.
"You're gonna do exactly what you did to me in my hotel back then," I breathe, "to someone else."
Lana's body goes rigid. "I didn't sell you out," she lies.
"There you go again with the fucking lies." My grip tightens for a moment before I force myself to exhale, to stay in control.
"I'll get a lead, and you'll seduce information out of them." He watches her expression in the mirror; anger, fear and defiance. I lean in closer. "The only difference is, they won't be able to touch you. Because you belong to me. And only I should touch you."
She tilts her head slightly, and speaks with mockery. "I'll make sure he fucks me good," she whispers. "Maybe he'll even last longer than you. And God forbid he's more powerful than you—"
My jaw ticks.
"I'll tell him everything," she continues, slowly taunting me. "Your plan. Whatever the fuck you're gonna make me do. He'll kill you, and then I'm free."
I scoff. My fingers tighten in her hair, and with a sharp yank, I force her to meet my eyes through the mirror. "Try that," I murmur lethally. "And I won't hesitate to kill you."
Lana's gaze doesn't waver. "Thing is," she says calmly. "I'd rather be dead than spend another moment with you."
Her words hit harder than they should. For a second, just a second, I feel something close to hurt. I let go of her hair abruptly, stepping back. I refuse to let her see how deep her words have cut.
"That's enough lies for today," I mutter.
I turn away, walking towards the closet where my suitcase is. Without looking back, I say without any emotion, "Get dressed."
Lana doesn't move. I glance over my shoulder. "Wear something sexy," I add. "We have someone to seduce."
Charles' POV
Mexico. It's almost like the night air scents of tequila and cigarettes. I adjust my black cap lower over my face, glancing at Alma, who's leaning against the hotel room wall, with one leg crossed over the other. She looks stunning in that tight black dress; dangerous and irresistible. But right now, I don't have time to appreciate it.
We're waiting for the private car I ordered, and she's already poking at my patience.
"You never even told me why we're here," Alma says with her arms folded.
"You see a free trip to Mexico, you take it. No questions asked."
She chuckles briefly. "Wait… so you asked me on the phone, to come to Mexico with you just so you could shut me up?"
I sigh. She's going to make this a problem, just when I have a mission to start. I step forward, cupping her face, and kissing her slowly. She exhales softly against me, forgetting whatever argument she was about to start.
"No," I murmur against her lips. "I asked you to come because I want you here."
Alma smiles, biting her lip. Then, the honk of the private car outside ruins her moment. I take her hand, leading her out. It's almost 8 p.m., the exact time Davida Gonzalez asked me to meet him.
THE MARINO TIGRESS CASINO
The Marino Tigress Casino is chaos wrapped in neon lights. The moment we step inside, I scent cigars, alcohol and rich ass colognes. I hear spanish music blast from unseen speakers.
Flashing slot machines, roulette wheels spin, men and women shouting in Spanish as dice clatter against tables. A woman in a black dress clings to a man's arm, whispering something in his ear before slipping a hand into his pocket, either seducing him or robbing him. Maybe both.
Quick and brutal fight break out in corners of the casino. A man gets slammed against a poker table as two security guards drag him out with a bloody nose. No one stops playing. No one even looks up.
I take it all in. It's wild, filthy and violent. Davida Gonzalez would meet me here, of course. Then my phone vibrates in my pocket. It's an unknown number. I press the phone to my ear.
"Walk five steps, take your left, and you'll see who you're looking for."
I don't move yet. "And who's the lady?" The voice asked.
"My girlfriend," I answer.
Alma perks up beside me, her smile is satisfied at the title.
The voice on the phone chuckles. "She's sexy."
Then, the line goes dead. I don't hesitate, I grip Alma's hand and follow the instructions. And then I see him.
Davida Gonzalez sits at a round table, leaning back like a king, with a cigar between his fingers. His dark eyes land on me the second I stop in front of him.
Six men surround him, and though they look relaxed, I know better. Their hands rest casually on their laps, but each one is gripping a gun. The way they're positioned, no one else in the casino can see the weapons. But I can feel them. I know they're aimed at me.
I keep my expression calm. I've been in worse situations. Davida takes a slow drag of his cigar, exhaling the smoke lazily. Then he leans forward, tapping the ashes onto the table.
"Start talking," he orders.
And that's where it begins.