Corrupt

by Elena M. Reyes

  I’m going to do her the favor of opening her eyes to the reality she neglects.

  That asshole loves no one but himself and the flavor of cock.

  “Don’t test my patience. I give no fucks when it comes to your comfort.”

  “Solimar would never—” She shuts up at the click of a gun and extends her wrist.

  “Smart girl.” My praise is condescending, and she bristles but remains quiet.

  We enter the establishment, and it’s clear that tonight’s theme is sex. A free-for-all and Laura’s face shows signs of worry as she pulls in closer to my side.

  Men look at her as we pass. A few pause their solo exploration and leer.

  “Do you wish to explore or find your boyfriend?”

  “Please.” Her voice is just shy of panic as a group of naked men and women pass a little too close for her comfort, and more so when two of the women wink at her while I chuckle.

  “Elevator.” Geronimo takes his place beside her while the others make a path toward the elevator bank where one holds it open and then closes the latch when we pass. “Third floor near.”

  “Yes, sir,” they answer in unison, and all you hear between grunts and moan is the heavy footfalls of my soldiers.

  The old-school elevator whirls to life after Geronimo pulls the lever, and we ascend in silence. You can tell she wants to ask questions—that she’s curious but doesn’t have the courage or time to do so as we arrive at the same rooftop terrace where I met my beautiful girl.

  And if she thought the first floor was scary, she’s just entered her worst nightmare.

  Not because sex is something to be ashamed of, but because we didn’t need to search hard for the man we came to see. Her sob is loud, and yet it’s drowned out by the moans and slapping of skin. He’s surrounded by men and women and services both.

  Hands and mouth and ass. He’s open for the taking and loving every single moment of being dominated.

  Signio’s head is thrown back and a look of ecstasy is spread across his features.

  “Is that the man you love?” I ask her, holding back a chuckle as Signio turns his face and kisses a woman who a few seconds ago had another man’s cock in her mouth. “Is that the man you hurt your cousin over? Who you chose over flesh and blood?”

  “He swore I was all he wanted.”

  “You think he lied? Used you?”

  “But why?” Her watery eyes meet mine and no, I don’t feel a single ounce of remorse for hurting her this way. A broken heart is nothing compared to the humiliation Solimar suffered in silence while she paraded around town with him. When she embarrassed her in front of friends and family—the entire country. Those pathetic tears will never be enough for me. “We’re having a baby. We’re going to get married after he annulled his marriage to her and move to Spain where we could be free to love one another.”

  “That her has a name,” I say, lip curling over my teeth as I fight to keep my temper in check. To not show her how fucked up I can be when provoked. “She’s more of a woman than you’ll ever be.”

  “Why are you defending her? Her father and grand—”

  “I love her.” That snaps her lips shut, and whatever rebuttal sat on the tip of her tongue is dead. But more importantly, a second later Signio comes, and his guttural growl breaks her heart and shatters her world. “A real man doesn’t cheat or pit family members against each other with lies and games. Solimar has never cared for him. Has never sought him out. He used you because for a man like him, you’re an easy target who takes care of his man-child needs. This is not love, Laura.”

  “Why are you helping me see the truth?”

  “Solimar is the only reason you are still standing and breathing. This is for her. Not you.”

  She continues to cry as I give the signal for her removal. Almost needs to be carried out while I turn to face the man of the hour.

  My gait is slow as I cross the room and stop a few inches from him, my soldiers behind me with their weapons drawn. Slowly, people take notice and they begin to exit the room via the stairwell. Not that he notices, as Signio’s lost to the pleasure: touching and licking and swallowing come.

  And it isn’t until his lovers take notice and scream that he looks up and our eyes meet.

  All color drains from his face. The men and women lying with him run out of the room.

  “Celebrating your last night?”

  He swallows hard, hands covering his nakedness. “What are you doing in Colombia? I thought—”

  “Patron, we found this one trying to get away.” A guard drags over the older Cortez, tossing him right beside his son. “He tried to blend in with a group overcrowding the elevator.”

  “Thank you, Jonny.”

  “At your service, Patron.”

  He stands back, and I focus on the two on the floor. The floor is empty at this point, and the rest of the establishment is being evacuated. Codicia is the double-edged sword he thought to be a haven for his depravity, but when you serve entertainment to the criminals of this country and abroad, you must understand that the tombos who patrol the area will never come to your aid.

  Delinquents see but never tell.

  “Get up, gentlemen. It’s time we go for a ride.”

  33

  Present…

  I WALK THROUGH the door of the presidential palace like I own the place. Staff members are bounding every corner, looking busy while ignoring the criminal making his way toward the backyard where I know Solimar is sitting.

  She’s watering the gardenias this late in the day to avoid running into her father, spending her time in the one area of the house the asshole never ventures and which she’s found solace in.

  I can smell her delicate scent the closer I am. It surrounds me and I groan—my need for her is a consuming time bomb waiting to erupt, and I won’t hold back.

  Not when I’ve slept without her in my arms for days.

  Not when I’ve watched from afar to keep her safe until all my ducks were in a row.

  She’s right where Jonny told me she’d be, and the moment I cross into the garden, there’s a shift in me and I notice how her shoulders stiffen and head tilts back. We’re in tune with one another. Sense the other’s presence.

  “My beautiful little flower,” I croon low, and she turns. Those expressive grey eyes show gratitude with a hint of anger, and I’ll take it all. The good and the bad. Her sweetness and fury. “I’ve missed you, Solimar.”

  “Where have you been? I thought—”

  Before her next intake of breath, I’m caging her in my arms and holding tight, filling my lungs with her scent. “I’ve been less than half a mile away and keeping watch from within these walls. Trust me when I tell you I’ve always been here.”

  “Then why not come and get me?” There’s some bite to her tone, but that doesn’t stop her from nuzzling my neck and dropping a single kiss to my chin. “I’ve missed you so much. I hate it here…it’s so cold and empty.”

  “And you’ll never live that way again.” I take a step back and bring both my hands up to cage her face. My lips hover over hers, skimming back and forth slowly. “I wasn’t kidding or testing the waters when I said marry me, Solimar. That was a declaration of my wants and needs. Of how I want to spend the next seventy years of my life.”

  Those gorgeous grey eyes sparkle in the moonlight, but the soft smile breaking across her face steals the very air from my lungs. I’ll always remember her at this moment as the years pass us by…

  Soft. Sweet. Mine.

  “I want to be your wife.”

  “I’m your husband.” Her skin is soft beneath my roughened fingertips—yielding—almost melting against me as I pull her in closer. Chest to chest. Lips hovering. She’s like the finest of silks; a motherfucking delicacy that’s been awaiting my arrival and only yearns to please her owner.

  Because she’s given herself to me.

  Every sigh. Every moan. Every inch of her has always been meant for this brute of a m
an.

  Solimar Quintero is my prize. A reward and coveted possession.

  “Please, Alejandro. I need you.” Those beautifully hooded, light grey eyes are on my cognac-colored ones, and in them, I see the same emotions reflected back at me. Hunger. Anticipation. A nearly knee-buckling yearning that makes me throb against her midsection.

  “Say it, Solimar.” My voice is rough, the grip on her right thigh tightening—fingers digging in as I place one leg over my hip and then the other; I have her right where she should always be...

  In my arms, her heat against my cock.

  The beautiful girl pinned by my body moans and the sweet sound settles on the tip of my cock, causing me to flex against her heat. It also pulls a hiss from me, my teeth gritting as I look down and take in how the short, white cotton summer dress has shimmied up and over her hips. Those supple thighs tremble, and my fingers on her right one dig in deeper, harder as I enjoy the sinful view.

  Indecent perfection.

  I shift my upper body back, just enough to get a better look.

  She’s wet; the evidence makes the almost translucent material completely see-through.

  My eyes snap up when a needy whimper passes through her lips. “Answer me.”

  “Papi, I... please!”

  “Answer me, Preciosa.” Lower, my hand encounters her round and firm asscheek. I palm the flesh—squeeze hard enough to make her mewl before gripping the tattered remnants of her panties and tugging them off.

  A single pull and she hisses, shaking in my hold when the delicate material rubs harshly over her sex. My little Solimar bites down on her bottom lip, withholding the moans that want to slip free so we—I—don’t get caught, and I find the action sweet. Endearing.

  Pointless, since I’m here to end it all tonight. To collect on a fifteen-year-old debt.

  “Say. It.”

  “I belong to you, Alejandro. Only you,” she moans out, lips parting just enough to see the tip of her tongue peek out. I follow how she slides it over the very edge of her Cupid’s bow. How her cheeks flush and perspiration beads over her neck. “I love you.”

  At those words, my eyes close and I breathe in deeply. A unique scent—her sweet, sugary decadence surrounds me, and I groan. I feel her heat. Her wetness as it seeps through and caresses my cock through my slacks sans underwear.

  I’m hard for her.

  I’m throbbing.

  I’m hers.

  My hips snap forward and my dick rubs against the juncture of her thighs, finger slipping a bit deeper inside her puckered hole. There are a few por favor and mas, but I don’t give in. Not yet.

  Not here.

  We’ll be leaving soon enough.

  That thought sobers me at once and after another pump, I slip from inside her tightness and right her clothing. My forehead falls to hers and my eyes snap open just as she whines, her pretty mouth set in a pout. “None of that.”

  “But Alejandro—”

  I silence her with a quick and harsh kiss. “I love you, too.”

  “Baby, I—”

  The click of a single gun interrupts our moment, and I shift my head minutely to catch sight of the asshole responsible. It’s a man I loathe. Someone whose history with my family brought us full circle and to this moment.

  “You’re a dead man, Lucas,” he says, and my smirk only deepens.

  “Good evening, Señor Presidente.”

  “I’m going to enjoy every second of…” Quintero’s words trail off as several high-powered rifles are cocked. His men—those that work the grounds day in and out—along with mine, surround us from all angles with their barrels pointing at an ashen man whose purpose in life should’ve been to take care of his family. It takes him a moment to compose himself, to hide the nervous shaking of his hands as the men come a little closer. Five steps forward and stop. “Arrest him! Have him placed—”

  “They’re not here for me, Quintero.” His eyes shift to mine, and the expression of his face is one I’ve been waiting for: fifteen years’ worth of patience and planning. He’s scared as I face him. Intimidated as those around us make no moves to detain me. “Please remove the president and escort him to his room for the evening. He’s not allowed outside under any circumstances until called upon tomorrow at ten.”

  “Yes, sir,” multiple voices answer in unison.

  “What are you doing? Get your hands off!” Jonny and another guard, both good friends of Carlos, knock the back of his legs and Matias falls to his knees. His eyes are wide while I smile and pull out my phone. The number on hold rings twice as I put it on speakerphone so Mr. President can witness this conversation and participate. “Patron?”

  “Is Emiliano there?”

  “He’s listening, and bags are packed. All we need is the conformation for release.”

  With a brow arched, I place the device closer to Quintero’s mouth. “Now is the time to play nice with me, Matias. Let’s not start this relationship off on the wrong foot.”

  “Fuck you,” he spits out, the spittle hitting my pant leg. Disgusting. “I’ll never—” Two guns are placed on opposite sides of his temple, effectively shutting him up. Solimar makes a small noise from her place beside me, not in fear but surprise, while gripping the back of my dress shirt. I try to shield her from his line of sight, but his mouth doesn’t take the hint. “You’re going to allow this criminal to treat your father this way while manhandling you like a whore? To abuse my right, daughter?”

  It’s the wrong thing for him to say.

  Every person here knows that.

  However, I stand my ground and let the fiery beauty beside me unleash years of pent-up anger. In a flash, Solimar’s in his face with her hand poised back and high. The hatred coming off her delicate skin sears me, but the sound of her hand connecting with his flesh is therapeutic for both of us.

  For her—because she releases the hurt.

  For me—because I get to help her through these emotions.

  She doesn’t stop at one or two—five harsh smacks land across his face and a bare-knuckle punch leaves behind a broken nose and a slightly swollen hand. My Preciosa is breathing hard, towering over the man who’s hurt them over and over again.

  “Hate is a strong word, but nowhere near enough for how much I despise you.” Tears gather at her eyes and a few spill, but still I don’t jump in. I’m here if she needs me, but will always support and encourage her to face her demons. “You’re a lousy husband, a pitiful father, and a waste of space on the earth. If I ever see you again, it’ll be too soon.”

  “I’m the pathetic one?” He barks out a laugh and then spits on the floor. Blood from his nose has slipped past his lips and coats his tongue. “He doesn’t love you and never will. Alejandro Lucas is using you to get to me and will drop you once I’m gone.”

  “Why would I leave my wife?”

  “W-what?” he sputters, chest beginning to heave. “You married this son of a bitch!”

  A solid kick to the chest is my rebuttal to the insult. It sends him sprawling back, and he hurts his hand as he catches his weight on it. “Not yet, but you’re personally invited to the nuptials tomorrow at ten.”

  That sends him into a fit of rage while the guards drag him away. He’s cursing. Threatening.

  The staff doesn’t move to help him or ask us what’s going on. Instead, it’s business as usual with a special event taking place the next morning.

  A throat clears, and I look down at my phone. “Did you get all that?”

  “That’s a presidential pardon if I’ve ever heard one. Miss Quintero, we appreciate your clear head in handling a delicate situation while your father has fallen ill. Our thoughts and prayers are with you.”

  “Gracias.” She shaken but not backing down. Her chin is up and head held high. Her eyes are watery but at peace. “I apologize for the mix-up and wrongful arrest of my brother-in-law.”

  “He’ll be released right away.” I can make out my brother’s voice in the background asking fo
r a cigar and shot of Aguardiente before facing his wife.

  “Thank you.”

  “Congratulations to you both, Patrones.”

  34

  SOLIMAR’S WALKING TOWARD me dressed in white.

  She’s a timeless beauty and a sweetness so pure that I ache in her mere presence. The satin dress with Swarovski beading across the sweetheart neckline is her something new: a pretty little number her mother had in the back of a closet and never wore, but saved for her. It’s tight across the bodice, molding over every delicate curve of her skin, while the bottom flares out a tiny bit ending in a miniature train.

  And while not a conventional wedding dress, on her it’s perfection.

  My little flower looks ethereal as she makes it down the aisle inside a large ballroom on the premises. The same one I kidnapped her from, with many of the same high-ranking members of Colombia’s society in attendance then and now.

  They’re watching us and speculating. Murmuring to themselves why the Cortez family and hers is allowing such a union.

  How can Quintero run the country and control me?

  How could he release Emiliano, who stands beside me as my best man, and fight the war on drugs?

  How will he keep their interests on top of every agenda?

  The answer is easy: he can’t. Dead men don’t have a voice.

  Solimar’s eyes shift for a brief second toward her father and…

  Nothing. No pity or love. No remorse or longing for a relationship he failed to nurture.

  However, when those stunning greys meet mine again, they come alive. Bright and happy, and the hint of naughtiness behind them is a delicious promise for tonight. Later. Much later.

  Veronica and her brother are giving her away, and neither turns to look at the once patriarch of their family. Not when he calls their name. Not when their grandfather sneers a few choice words.