I’m a man with an immoral compass. A convicted killer in one country and the right-hand to the devil in another.
Javier Lucas offers death without mercy. Something, my enemies don’t live long enough to tell but the carnage left behind paints a brutal story. I have no soul. No regrets. This is who I am, and I embrace the darkness that flows through my veins while blood stains my skin.
And I’ve never wanted more until…
Our eyes met and my world took a pause. One flirty exchange and I vowed to tame her wildness.
Fate is a word I now believed in.
Because it led me to her. To my beautiful little criminal.
“Take another step and I’ll shoot you.” There’s a hint of amusement in her tone, and the decadent sound sends a rush of excitement down my spine. Every nerve ending vibrates as her scent, a sweet and floral tone, infiltrates my senses. The owner of the voice is close, invading my personal space, and my nostrils flare—my cock giving a harsh jerk behind the confines of my zipper. What the fuck? “Now, the question here is…are you feeling frisky?”
“Those are dangerous words for a…” I begin but trail off when she steps into my line of sight, hand on her hip and eyes challenging. Fuck. This woman is beautiful: a tiny doll with a hint of wickedness behind those seafoam eyes and a taste of depravity in every sinful curve.
Because I take her in.
All of her.
From her dark auburn hair to the dangerous heels on her tiny feet; this woman is perfection. At no more than five feet and three inches, she draws something from deep within that makes me throb where I stand, but it’s the cockiness—that tiny curl of her upper lip that brings forth the asshole in me.
I take a step forward, loving the way her chest expands.
I lick my bottom lip, savoring the way she follows the movement with unveiled interest.
Who is she?
“Who are you?” she asks without pause. No shame in the way she watches me.
“I’ll tell you after I meet with your boss, Muñeca.” There’s a slight narrowing of her eyes and purse to her top lip at my words, and they make me want to bite her. To keep pushing her buttons to see if she snaps—if she scratches. “So be a good girl for me and let him know Javier Lucas is here.”
“What did you just say? What did you call me?” My eyes skim down her front and pause on a small name tag attached to her white silk top. “I think I heard wrong.”
“Mariah,” I croon low, savoring her name on my tongue and the small hitch in her breath. There’s a slight tremble that she quickly hides behind a rigid back when I close the space between us. “Muñeca…my little doll, I asked that you do your job and announce me. I promise to reward you after.”
“Step back,” she hisses through gritted teeth, her expression angry, but I catch the straining of two little nipples against her top. The goose bumps on her arms. “I’ll give you to the count of—”
“Mariah, let me know when Mr. Lucas arrives,” a male voice says from the doorway at the far back of the room. It startles her, and she jumps back as if burned while I hold my ground, never taking my eyes off of her. Never addressing the man I came here to see.
“He’s here, Malcolm.” I don’t like the way she says his name. The familiarity and ease when she should address him as her superior and nothing else.
“You mean Mr. Asher?” The bite in my tone isn’t missed by either, and I feel the man’s eyes on me. Sense when he comes closer, and if I were a lesser man, I’d cower back.
But I’m not. Never will be.
“Is there a problem here between you and my cousin, Mr. Lucas?”
Cousin? She’s his cousin? I’m better than to miss an important fact like this.
For the first time in my life, I’m speechless—a bit embarrassed—and all I can manage is a shake of my head, and yet, pulling my attention away from her is impossible. The jealousy that burned through me like molten acid unnerves me, but at the same time, excites me. It’s shaken me, and by the coquettish look in those beautiful orbs, Mariah knows this.
Finds my reaction amusing. Motherfucking dangerous.
“Mr. Lucas seems to take his formalities extremely serious, Malcolm. Cut him some slack. It might be a cultural thing.” My eyes narrow at her words, but her cousin merely chuckles to my right where he seems to be taking in my fumble.
“Is that so, Javier?”
“Not at all.” I flick my attention in his direction for ten seconds—moments where I take in the familial resemblance and smirk—before meeting Mariah’s challenge head-on. “I’ve just been caught off guard by your cousin’s beauty. That’s all.”“I am spectacular, cousin,” she says, and then fucks me in a way that tests my control. I’m left hanging by a very thin thread and every muscle in my body tenses, coils when her delicate fingers land on my chest while closing the distance between us. There’s playfulness in her words while her body language teases. “Can’t fault the man for having impeccable taste.”
Elena M. Reyes is the epitome of a Floridian and if she could live in her beloved flip-flops, she would.
As a small child, she was always intrigued by all forms of art: whether it was dancing to island rhythms, or painting with any medium she could get her hands on. Her passion for reading over the years has amassed her with hours of pleasure, but it wasn’t until she stumbled upon fanfiction that her thirst to write overtook her world. She’s a short and sassy Latina with an adorable pup, a kiddo that keeps her on her toes, and a husband who claims she’ll cause him to go bald prematurely. Lol