shift in my thoughts toward Elena has my cock twitching in reaction. It’s too easy to imagine her as she was this morning, her bikini and flimsy cover-up doing nothing to hide her toned body from me. She’s even sexier in the light of day.
I can’t think of her like that—not while I’m doing business. Not ever. One of the many lessons my mother taught me was to never let my dick guide me in business decisions. Once I was old enough that she noticed me spending more time than usual in the shower, she sat me down and told me in her no-bullshit way to fuck whoever I wanted as long as they weren’t connected to any business dealings. She forbade me from fooling around with any woman who belonged to another member of the cartel, past or present. I was never to knock up any woman who wasn’t my wife. Such mistakes were enough to get a man killed. It was hard for me to believe that at the ripe old age of fourteen, but experience has shown me that Mother’s lessons were always right on the mark. I’ve seen entire criminal dynasties fall apart over a piece of ass, so I keep business and pleasure separate. Which means Elena Aguilar is absolutely off limits.
With that in mind, I help myself to cream-cheese filled crepes with strawberries, even though I’m not hungry. Oleg is old-school, and his strict Russian upbringing dictates certain protocols. He never discusses business in front of women, and he won’t get around to the reason for a meeting until pleasantries have been observed.
We’ve been sitting at our table in a secluded corner of the Indian Creek Country Club for an hour, engaging in small talk. Now, I force myself to eat slowly so as not to offend him. He might here as my guest, but he’s footing the bill. Aside from that, the deal I’m trying to broker with Oleg will take the Pérez Family to the next level, ushering us into the digital age. It’s one segment of the underworld we don’t yet have a stake in, aside from the handful of commodities I refuse to touch—human trafficking and sale of endangered and exotic animals. Everything else is fair game, and the Yezhov bratva is light-years ahead of us on that front. A partnership would also add additional muscle to our ranks, which will be needed if things continue heating up between us and the other crime families fighting for dominance.
Oleg talks to me about his wife, children, and grandchildren, a new house he just purchased in Martha’s Vineyard, and the litter of puppies he’s expecting from his impeccably bred hounds. I answer his questions about how my sister is doing and sidestep anything having to do with my dating life or marriage prospects. But Oleg won’t be put off. As is customary between us at these meetings, the moment our plates are clean he segues into talk about his youngest daughter.
“You’ve avoided me long enough, Diego,” he says with a teasing smile. He’s a large man—as tall as me and built like a bull. Only the wrinkles around his eyes and mouth and white hair give away his age. “My little Nataly is beginning to worry you do not find her beautiful. When will you allow me to host a dinner in your honor? It would be a good occasion for you to get to know my little girl, and for your men and mine to break bread together.”
I take a long swallow of my bourbon to buy myself some time to think. Oleg introduced me to his twenty-two-year-old daughter, Nataly, last year at the party for her twenty-first birthday. It was the first step toward partnership, and the first time he thrust Nataly under my nose like a prime cut of juicy steak. The rumors of her stunning beauty were brought to life when I laid eyes on her, but something inside me failed to react in a visceral way. Appreciating Nataly’s looks was easy; trying to imagine spending the rest of my life with her … not so much. It wasn’t only because I’ve always been against marrying and starting a family. Maybe it was the age difference, or the weird 17th century vibes I get at the idea of an arranged marriage. Either way, marrying Oleg’s daughter isn’t something I want, so I’ve avoided this conversation wherever I can.
“A dinner party sounds like a good idea,” I say carefully,