“You look good, gatita,” he murmurs, giving my ass another squeeze and sending liquid heat through my core. “I saw you when I was walking up … your form is tight and you’re quick.”
“That’s right,” I tease. “So you’d better think twice about fucking with me.”
He emits a low growl from his throat, tightening his hold on my ass. “You can fight, but I think we both know you’ll submit in the end. You always do.”
“You want submission?” I fire back. “Make me.”
He gives me a swat, the heat of his palm against my left ass cheek making my pussy clench with longing. Fuck, he’s as irresistible as ever, making me want to fall to my knees right here and beg him to make good on his promise to make me submit. He’s been so careful with me and I love him for it. I might have needed that before, but I’m feeling more like my old self again, and my old self wants to be tied up, spanked, and pounded into oblivion.
“Enough,” Diego says, giving me one final smack before pulling away. “That’ll have to wait until later. For now, I have a surprise for you.”
My eyebrows draw together as he starts leading me back to the house. “What kind of surprise?”
“You’ll see. I’ve been saving it until I thought you were ready. I think you’ve waited long enough.”
I want to ask Diego what he’s up to, but I can’t think of a single gift I might have wanted before or after my abduction. So, I simply wrap an arm around his waist and let him guide me through the gate to the backyard. We skirt the pool and patio, heading toward one of the side doors. The house is quiet with Marcella attending class and Jovan in training with the other men. Something else I’ve learned about the cartel—the men work hard to stay in peak shape and hone their skills, always ready to go to war at the slightest provocation. For now, things are relatively quiet along the East coast. We haven’t heard another peep out of the Armir Brotherhood, but Oleg has made our alliance with the Yezhovs official, doubling our ranks and making us more capable of countering any attacks. What I’ve learned of the Armenians leads me to believe that they’re ruthless, cunning, and without honor. A war is brewing, but the Pérez Family couldn’t be more ready to head into battle.
Before long, I realize that Diego is leading me to a part of the house I’ve spent very little time in. It’s in the southwest corner of the first floor—where our live-in soldiers call home. The air is different here—colder and thinner, sending a chill down my spine. It seems darker, too, which doesn’t make any sense because it’s the middle of the day and there isn’t a cloud in the sky. Still, something inside me twists and trembles at the idea of being here, as if it knows this part of the house has seen endless violence and agony.
“My room was in this part of the house when I was a little boy,” Diego says, his voice low and heavy with meaning. It’s like he wants me to know that this feeling coming over me is real and not imagined. “My parents thought it best for me to be immersed in the world of La Familia … to be among the soldiers who would one day bow down to me. Nowadays, only a handful of my men live over here, but we reserve the other rooms for … mafia business.”
The way he refers to ‘mafia business’ tells me that this part of the house isn’t for parties or meetings or politics. This is where the dirty work happens, where the reality of being a mobster is manifested.
Diego stops in front of a door, pulling a single key from around his neck. “Before we go inside, I want you to look me in the eye and tell me you aren’t afraid anymore. Don’t lie to me, gatita … I’ll know it if you lie. I need you to understand that together we are untouchable. The Viktors of the world can’t touch you … because you’re a fucking tigress with teeth and claws of her own. And if anyone thinks they can hurt you, they’ll have me to contend with as well.”
Our gazes meet and Diego waits silently for my answer. I can’t deny that revulsion floods me at the mention