Ruthless Savior - Julia Sykes Page 0,6

when she looked at me with those warm, melted chocolate eyes; as though she saw a shred of goodness in me.

I hated the sight of her lovely eyes wet with tears. I tried to stem the flow with gentle strokes of my thumbs, but the tender touch that’d made her open for me like a flower didn’t seem to comfort her. If anything, my continued contact was making her cry harder.

My stomach twisted. I definitely didn’t like that.

Daniel. This was all his fault. Marisol was obviously traumatized by his assault, and our intense kiss had happened immediately after that frightening encounter.

I took a breath and forced myself to release her. Judging by her wild, lustful reaction to my domineering hands on her curvy little body, there was no doubt that she’d been just as swept up in our fiery chemistry as I was. She simply needed space to recover from what’d happened with Daniel.

I didn’t want her to think I was like him. I wouldn’t allow her to regret anything that happened between us.

Because now that I’d felt her melt in my arms, there was no going back. Marisol would be mine.

My fists flexed at the thought of Daniel trying to claim what belonged to me. It wasn’t too late to change my mind about killing the bastard. I could still crush the life out of him. More slowly next time.

She shivered in the absence of my embrace, looking so small and breakable that it took every ounce of my limited control to prevent myself from wrapping my arms around her once again.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated, the apology hitching in her throat.

Despite her distress, my tension eased. “You have nothing to be sorry for,” I promised. “You’re safe with me, corderita.”

My little lamb should be terrified of me, but she wasn’t. Against all odds, I’d become her protector. My brutal hands served a purpose that wasn’t simply the selfish destruction of whatever and whoever stood in the way of what I wanted: money, power, security.

I wanted Marisol, but I wouldn’t destroy her. I’d never allow anyone to harm her.

Daniel Vera was as good as dead.

Daniel was late. Or maybe he’d simply decided not to come to the meeting Stefano had called. Maybe the arrogant little shit had finally learned he wasn’t entitled to whatever he wanted.

My fists clenched at the memory of his hands on Marisol, groping and violating. Defiling.

She’d been too distressed for me to murder him in front of her, but I would finish the job somewhere out of her sight; somewhere I could take my time meting out my retribution.

I needed to let Stefano know what I planned before I could act, but I doubted the cartel kingpin would object. Daniel irritated Stefano with his arrogance and stupidity. The kid was already one more insult away from death, anyway.

His family might command money and resources that were valuable to the cartel, but Stefano Duarte hadn’t taken his place as king by allowing slights to go unpunished.

When Carlos Vera died from a heart attack three months ago, Daniel had inherited his father’s wealth. The bastard didn’t yet understand that wealth didn’t necessarily give him power. He’d automatically taken his father’s place at the head of his family, stepping into Stefano Duarte’s inner circle as a matter of birthright.

But Stefano had come from nothing. I’d come from nothing. Power was commanded by ruthless men who took it for themselves. Soft, pampered princes like Daniel either learned that quickly or died.

Stefano let out a calculated sigh. The quiet sound of disappointment immediately captured the attention of every man in the room. “I’d hoped Daniel would come to understand the importance of respect, especially after our recent conversation,” he lamented to no one in particular, swirling the mezcal in his heavy crystal glass. He leaned back in his black leather, wingback armchair, occupying the seat like a throne.

Every nuance of his expressions and mannerisms was carefully crafted to utterly command and control the people around him. He was the scariest fucker I’d ever met. Not because he was physically intimidating, but because he was cleverer and colder than anyone I knew.

He’d clawed and scraped his way to power, and I’d been with him every step of the way. I would never be the smartest man in the room, but I didn’t have to be. Stefano wasn’t exactly my boss—I didn’t take orders from him—but supporting him had made me rich and powerful in my own right. I didn’t see any reason