Corrupt

by Elena M. Reyes

  Two more contenders are waiting.

  Cortez is interested in an open marriage arrangement between them and the first ladies.

  “But my mother will.” She comes closer, just a couple of steps, and then stops with a hand on her sinuous hip. “She’ll want to know I’m okay.”

  “Then call her when we reach our destination.”

  “That easily?”

  “You’ll always be taken care of with me. Anything you need, no matter how trivial.”

  “I believe you.” Her scent is luscious. Intoxicating. This delicate hint of freesias and a unique sweetness that is naturally hers. “And it’s why I’ll come with you.”

  “Who said you have a choice?”

  “I did.”

  “Is that right?” Chuckling, I take the remaining steps between us and wrap an arm around her waist. One tug, and she’s flush against me. Chest to chest. “Because that not how it’s supposed to work.”

  “How is it supposed to work, then?”

  “Like this.” Before her next intake of breath, I pick her up bridal style and walk us around to the private exit used by her father where just beyond the gate, my is car waiting. Solimar is giggling in my arms, wide smile across her lips when she sees Carlos holding the passenger side door open. “Thank you.”

  He nods and steps back as we approach. “I’ll await your call to pick up Miss Quintero, Patron.”

  “Enjoy your night off.”

  “Have a good night.”

  Sol cups my jaw and turns my face to hers, lips lightly brushing. “You thought of everything, didn’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good.” A quick peck and then a nip. Playful and bold. “Then take me away. I’m all yours.”

  “Your wish is my command.”

  “Are you going to tell me where we’re going?” Solimar asks after a while, tone teasing from beside me. It’s just the two of us inside of my all-white Aston Martin One-77 as I drive out of the city, heading a few hours out of Bogota and toward my home in the country.

  It’s somewhere very few are welcomed, but her, her I want in my space. Her scent infiltrating every square inch, her tiny fingers touching my things and leaving tiny fingerprints behind in a trail for me to remember.

  “No.” I shake my head, a chuckle slipping out. “There’s no fun in that.”

  “Fun for who?” Her huff is cute, and the way she crosses her arms over her chest is tempting me to pull over and devour that sassy, inquisitive mouth. Something we both need.

  And while I won’t take her innocence tonight, I’ll satiate this hunger we’re both drowning in.

  “Fun for me.” Another huff from Sol, and from the corner of my eyes I see those supple thighs clench as the car slows at a light. “But by all means, don’t stop begging, Preciosa. I enjoy it.”

  “Is that so?” She shifts in her seat toward me and I turn my head, matching her raised brow. “Why?”

  “In due time.”

  “Please,” my little flower begs so prettily, her pouty lower lip jutting out, and I smirk. She’s nothing like I thought she’d be, or how she seemed that night back at the rooftop bar. Back there, Solimar was shy and a bit nervous—afraid, but the more we’re together, the more I see the woman behind the title of first daughter come forward. This woman wants to live. To fully experience life without barriers or rules, to be herself. And while I find myself drawn to her natural sweetness—this goodness that radiates from her every pore—she’s just as equally hungry for my darkness. To find her balance. “Pretty please, Mr. Lucas.”

  So dangerous, I muse while scratching my jaw. “One clue. That’s all you get.” Solimar opens her mouth to protest, but I hold a finger up as the light turns green. “Patience, and you’ll get your reward.”

  She giggles. “Maybe you should take me back.”

  “Maybe you need to be taught a lesson in patience.” The SUV with my security stops at a four-way crossroad a few minutes later, and I take the opportunity to teach my flower two things: I say when, and two, I own her.

  “But, Alejandro...of fuck,” she moans as my hand grips the back of her neck, my hold tight, and I bring her closer. Right to where those beautiful lips belong, against mine. Her exhale is my inhale. Her body is mine to take.

  “Even the way you curse is innocent.” Miss Quintero’s eyes close, and her sweet breath fans across my lips; I lick them, and by proximity, hers. It’s a small taste. A decadent violation of my senses and I take her mouth, slanting my lips over hers as she mewls from the back of her throat. This kiss is hungry and rough, tongues twining and hands caressing; her body’s angled across the center console as she grips the lapels of my tuxedo jacket. Her tongue is small and soft, lapping at mine—she’s fighting for a dominance I’ll never hand over, and I love it. I love the challenge she presents at every turn.

  And to prove my point, I slow the kiss to a few soft pecks. She whines. “Want more.”

  “That word coming from your lips should be illegal.”

  “What word?” Her lips are swollen and eyes heavy-lidded. “Maybe I’ll say it again if you tell me.”

  “Behave, little flower.”

  “But—” I place a finger over her lips and shake my head. My men have pulled slightly off to the side and step out in what is normal protocol. Solimar notices this and pouts, not liking when I release her and much less when I nod for her to sit back. However, she does what I ask and looks toward my men carrying out orders they know by memory.

  And while they pause traffic, rifles pointing at cars in every direction but mine at the four-way stop, I take that moment to enjoy her. She fidgets under my scrutiny but doesn’t ask questions, something that I know her mierda father instilled in her from an early age.

  You don’t ask. You don’t see. You don’t repeat.

  The road is cleared for my caravan to move through a minute later, but I don’t change gears. I’m too busy taking in her reaction. Admiring the swell of her breasts as her breathing hitches once more.

  Not in fear. No.

  The two little perfect tips poking through the soft satin fabric are enough of a tell. Even if she doesn’t acknowledge it yet, my life excites her. The fact I’m the complete opposite of her forced fiancé makes her fidget in her seat.

  I’ve noticed how her thighs clench.

  How her lips part, tongue peeking out while I throb behind the zipper of my slacks.

  I’m not hiding who I am. I’m not pretending to be anything but the man people fear.

  Car doors close and those with me wait for my signal to drive.

  “Do you trust me to take care of you, Preciosa? To not let anyone hurt you?”

  “I do.”

  “And will you let me handle everything from here on out?”

  “I do, but I have some questions that need answers.”

  “Good girl. Always ask questions,” I say and take her hand in mine, laying them atop my lap. “Now, let’s head home. We’ll finish this conversation in bed.”

  “In bed?” Head cocked to the side, she raises a brow. “Won’t that be a distraction?”

  “That’s why it’ll be after. Much fucking after.”

  For the rest of the ride, she remains quiet, dozing off after we hit the open road. She never woke up when I stopped at a gas station midway to our destination to refuel and remove my jacket, cummerbund, and bowtie, leaving just the white long-sleeve beneath.

  Not when I took a few sharp curves up a mountain’s winding road. Not when I put my window down and lit a cigarette, pondering my next few moves.

  Her father will be coming for me after the explosion that demolished the federal building. He’s furious. Embarrassed. Looking for anyone in my employ to hold responsible.

  It’s also why I need to get Solimar out from under his clutches. Desperate men make careless decisions.

  The roads are empty this time of night and in the distance, I hear the mooing of a few cows as I cross a stretch of land known to have roaming
cattle. Farmers around here let their animals graze openly and keep them marked with distinct patterns shaved into their coats just to differentiate.

  My life has always been out in the countryside. Near the mountains and fields where coffee grows and life is simpler. Quieter.

  It’s how my father lived.

  His father before him.

  And had Jose Quintero not accused him of using the Finca for a non-existent drug operation, it’s where we’d all be. On that same land. Running the same business started as all those generations before.

  “…divorcing Dad?” Solimar murmurs beside me and I look over, not liking the way her eyebrows pucker in her sleep nor the frown on her face. “Don’t leave.”

  “Who’s leaving, Preciosa?” I mutter, but somehow, she hears and turns her head in my direction. Her eyes are closed and breathing still even, but the sad look remains. Her words also don’t make sense. She can’t be talking about—

  “Mom is. Told me today.”

  She talks in her sleep. Adorable. “Does your father know?”

  “No.” Frown deepens. “He’s going to be pissed.”

  “I’ll protect you.” We’re nearing my home, and I make a left onto a secret road that runs right to my front door. Nothing but green surrounds us, trees and lush fields, with the occasional guard at his post. No one comes in or leaves without my permission after entering.

  “But what about them?”

  “Them who?” I have an idea of who she’s speaking about, but before I make a move, I need confirmation. We reach the main gate and find it open, a soldier on each side, and I drive through with the other cars behind me. They’ll be parking around back and emptying the accompanying cargo. Signio will be joining us for the next two days.

  He’ll be persuaded into offering his assistance in creating an alibi for her.

  Her hand shakes a bit, fingers squeezing mine as I park the car a few feet from the stairs that lead to my front door. I turn and meet wide-open eyes, a hint of fear in them. “Them who? Umm, what are you talking about, Alejandro?”

  “We both know, and I need the truth.”

  “I don’t—”

  “Never lie to me, Preciosa.”

  She lets out a heavy sigh, but nods. “My mom told me tonight that she plans to leave Dad.”

  “When was this?”

  “While I was getting dressed.”

  There’s worry in her eyes, and I don’t like it. “What do you need me to do. Say it, and it’s done.”

  “He won’t let her, and I’m afraid of what his reaction will be.”

  “And when I said earlier I’d protect you, that includes those you love.”

  17

  I DON’T KNOW why I told him that, but I’m relieved. The news has been nagging at me since earlier, like a tiny splinter that progressively gets worse as the hours pass.

  My mother is leaving my father, something that isn’t allowed inside of our social circle. First families don’t split up. You don’t air your dirty laundry for the world to see.

  Instead, you shut up and suffer in silence.

  The husband is the head of your familial unit, and his decisions are the law.

  You have no word or say. Nothing comes before having the perfect unifying appearance for your constituents to envy.

  But why now? Why is she doing this after confirming a wedding I want no part of?

  “I don’t like it when you look sad.” His voice pulls me away from my thoughts. “All you need to do is ask, and I’ll fix it. Tell me what you need.”

  “You are nothing like I thought you’d be.” My voice is low inside the car, my attention solely on him and not the world around us as his employees retake their posts and the ones who’re in charge of Signio’s well-being have disappeared to another section of his property.

  Something that should worry me but doesn’t. I don’t care about him in the least.

  And while Laura’s blinded by pretty words and empty promises, I’ve always known he was just another opportunistic abuser. Another man like the ones whose blood runs through my veins.

  Alejandro exits the car, a chuckle escaping right before closing his door. I watch him as he comes around to my side, his natural swagger holding just the right amount of cockiness, and the smirk on his lips is maddening. In an amazing way. In a panty-destroying way. He’s enjoying my perusal while making me wait—not that I’m made to sit here for long—at the most thirty seconds pass when my door is opened and his hand appears in my line of sight.

  There’s not a single second of hesitation from me as I let him pull me out. No regret as he wraps an arm around my waist and keeps me flush against his chest, lips hovering over my temple. A tiny kiss, and I shiver. A firmer grip and I bring my arms up, wrapping them around his neck, something that without these high heels I’d never be able to do.

  Tipping my head back, I meet his warm eyes. They crinkle a bit at the corner with his smile. “Hello, Mr. Lucas.”

  “Hello, Miss Quintero.” The long fingers of his unoccupied hand embed in my hair, pulling out the few bobby pins on the right side where a section was pulled back before wrapping them around his fists. “What did you think I’d be like? What did you know about me?”

  “A woman has a right to her secrets.”

  “Not when it comes to us.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yes.” His lips kiss a path down the side of my face until reaching the corner of my mouth. “Now answer the question, Solimar. What did you know about me?” The way he’s looking at me as if he already knows about my childhood crush makes me flush. It starts at my hairline and sweeps down in a telltale sign of my obsession. “Why are you blushing?”

  “Can we skip this part of the evening?”

  “I might be persuaded to push it back until later for a kiss.”

  “How many and where?”

  “That’s a dangerous offer to make.”

  “How many and where?” I’ve never been so bold in my life, and what’s more dangerous is how naturally it comes with him. Even earlier today when Dad was sending me away with Signio, the urge to tell him how I felt was strong and had the man my father chose for me not pulled me away, the words would’ve slipped without a second thought. That courage comes from Alejandro. From being allowed to be me without fear of repercussion. “Time’s ticking, Mr. Lucas.”

  “Five in total, and one on the mouth for now.”

  “Deal—”

  “But I choose the time to pick up this conversation again.”

  I roll my eyes. “Yes, Patron.”

  “Sassy little thing, aren’t you.”

  “Sometimes…Alejandro!” It comes out a mixture between a giggle and a scream as he lifts me and throws me over his shoulder, marching up the steps of what I assume is his home. “Put me down!”

  “No.” We’re not in the city, maybe a little over two hours out, but I’m not sure in which direction. I should’ve been paying better attention, but didn’t. Instead of looking at signs or taking notes of mile markers, I watched him drive. Took in the way his arms flexed as he changed gears. The tick of his jaw as my thighs clenched.

  “Are you insane?”

  “Yes.” His warm hand slides up the back of my thigh, bunching up my dress in the process. He stops just beneath my rear, fingers massaging my flesh. “Now behave, Miss Quintero. I’m trying to be a gentleman.”

  “You are?”

  “I am.” Alejandro never puts me down but does adjust me before ascending the stairs. Now he carries me bridal style, his hold on my thigh possessive and his cognac-colored eyes show his hunger. His eyes are heavy-lidded and his mouth so close to mine as we make it to the top and turn right where a long hallway ends with a set of double doors.

  And it’s when we make it through those doors that I follow through on my promise.

  There’s something about being in his room, his private domain, that sets off my own need and I fist his hair in my hands, pulling on the soft strands as I
kiss him. I’m not afraid or timid or careful. Instead, I take, slipping my tongue past his lips and swallowing the almost feral hiss that builds in his chest when I nip his bottom lip.

  “Dangerous fucking flower,” Alejandro growls, his hands wandering as he walks us over to the large bed at the center of the room. It’s dark and the sole lighting comes from the moon above, filtering through the sheer window curtains—bathing us in a soft glow as my back meets the plush comforter. His body covers mine, a predator pinning a willing prey. “You’re not ready, Sol. Not yet.”

  “I want you, Alejandro. Always have.” It’s the truth. I’ve always known there was more to this man than what the media or my family portrayed. There’s always been something about him that calls to me, and I don’t want to deny it anymore.

  What I’m doing—seeing him—is crazy and probably idiotic, but denying myself will hurt more. We need to talk and discuss what this is between us, but not now. I need to feel him close. To experience his ardor.

  “You’re the sweetest temptation.” With one hand, he holds himself slightly off me. Alejandro licks his lips, and I moan low. “You’d let me do just about anything to you.”

  “Yes.” No shame. Am I nervous? Yes, but I want this. With shaky hands, I pull the skirt of my dress up slowly, not stopping until the soft material is bunched at my hips and my lace black thong is visible.

  “Motherfuck.” Then, I’m cradling his hips. They fit perfectly against mine, grinding while my eyes roll back. “So beautiful.”

  “Oh God,” I whimper, feeling every solid inch of his cock as it throbs against where I need him most. Where I’m wet and swollen. Where I’ve fantasized him taking me. Another gyration and I shake, fingers clawing at his shirt while his lips skim up my throat and chin, stopping their exploration when he finds my lips. This kiss is softer. Slower. A complete contradiction to all the others while the intensity remains, heat licks at my skin.