Guillermo
"What would you like us to do, Boss?"
I paused, staring at the lifeless corpse of my son on a cold steel table. His body was badly burnt on one side and the other was only mildly burnt—the ending result being that he was entirely recognizable. I took the white sheet on his body and raised it up, over his head. My son was dead.
"Juan Carlos is dead. We are now at war. This is no longer a game of strategy. I will kill every single Petrov and De León I can get my hands on."
I looked up for the first time, "Get Ricardo on the phone. It's time I take up permanent residence in the states."
He started to walk away, but I stopped him, "Where is Alandra?"
He paused, "She's in her room. I assume she mourning her father. He died in the explosion."
I let him go and he left. Alandra Rodriguez was now the head of the Mexican cartel.
I took one last look at my son and took a deep breath, "I will right this wrong my son. I promise you."
Shutting the door behind me, I began to walk to Alandra's room.
"Hello, my love."
She turned from her position in front of the window and looked at me, "Guillermo, I wasn't expecting to see you. I'm so sorry about Juan Carlos."
I smiled at her, "I would say I'm sorry about your father, but that would be another unfortunate lie shared between us."
She looked at me skeptically, "I wasn't-
"Lying," I cut her off, "You wanted my son dead. Otherwise you wouldn't have given that knife to the Petrov girl."
She widened her eyes as I moved closer to her, "Yes, yes. I knew all about that."
"That was a mistake," she said, "One that means nothing in the events that just occurred. I won't be marrying your son and my father isn't here to force me to."
"No, you won't be marrying my son," I said running my finger down her face, "You'll be marrying me."
______
Ismael
"I trust that the mission was successful."
"It was father," I began, "They were able to extract Aleksandra and Adama."
"Good, good," he smiled, "Don't forget that success only hindered on retrieving your fiancé."
We were seated in his office, he was at the head of the desk and I sat in front of him. He stroked his chin as if in deep thought.
I sighed and ran a hand through my hair, "I'm sure Aleksandra appreciated that mostly everyone made it home safe. From my understanding, she values family very much."
"Yes," he smiled, "Yes, she does, and it's important for you to get closer to her now more than ever."
"Don't we have the rest of our lives?" I asked shrugging. An arranged marriage was enough pressure as is, but having to force a relationship was an entirely different story.
"No," he said standing up, "You don't."
"She's with her friend right now. I don't think that's any conditions for me to be trying to flirt with her," I said.
"Don't be stupid, mijo," he turned to me sharply, "Lorenzo is much more that just her friend."
I raised my eyebrows at him. I didn't know she was involved with anyone romantically. Didn't seem like she had the time for any of that.
"Right now is the time for you to leave your impression on her. While she doesn't have him swaying her opinion," he said smiling to himself.
"Why would she leave his side for me?"
"Because she's a De León," he said simply, "She will marry you Ismael. No matter how she feels about anything else."
I sunk in to the leather seat and furrowed my eyebrows. Marrying someone I barely knew just to inherit an organization. Didn't seem worth it.
As if reading my mind, he looked at me, "Don't look so serious. She's a beautiful woman, mijo. Now go, make me proud."
I paused for a moment, standing up out of my chair, then smiled at him, "Of course."
_____
Aleks
My heart broke just looking at him.
After the compound almost exploded, Enzo took a dive in the water, but not before the debris fell on him breaking a few of his ribs and giving him a concussion.
I was sitting at the edge of the bed that he was laying in. He was asleep and laying on his back in a bed where doctors tended to him round the clock—provided by the Santos'.
"I'm sorry I hurt you," I said cupping his face with my hand, "I wish I could give you what you want."
I quickly wiped the tear that fell from my face and stood up from the bed facing away from him. God, everything was so complicated.
Why couldn't things just be simple? Why couldn't I just be with him the way that I want to be?
I sighed and turned hearing footsteps enter the room.
"Hey mom," I said taking in her presence. She was still as beautiful as I remembered her. She was dressed up wearing a nice blue dress, heels, and her curly hair done into a bun.
Her gaze turned from Enzo then back to me, "Do you want to talk about that?"
I raised my eyebrows at her, "You know?"
She laughed casually, "I know everything. Don't you know that by now."
I smiled, it was so nice to have her back. Awake...
She took my hand and squeezed it, "How are you holding up?"
I shrugged my shoulder and kept my arm close to my chest, "I don't know. I don't know how to do this," I turned to Enzo, "He did this for me. He's like this because of me and I can't even give him what he wants."
"That's not why he came, he did that because he loves you. Regardless of who you'll marry and who you'll become he loves you, beyond a shadow of doubt. I know he regrets nothing."
I sighed, "When did life become so complicated?"
"Around the same time you came into this world," she smiled, "Life is is life, baby. You can't change it. You can only do your best to make the next right decision."
I nodded and she wrapped her arms around me—filling me with a familiar sense of comfort.
Suddenly we were interrupted by on soft knock on the door, it was one of the house servants.
"Forgive me for interrupting, Señorita Petrov, but Señor Santos has requested your presence in his quarters," she said.
"His quarters?" I asked raising my eyebrow, "A little inappropriate, no?"
Ignoring my comment, "When is she expected?" asked my mother.
"Señor Santos said that you could have whatever time you needed to get ready, he would gladly wait," she smiled warmly.
"Thank you. Please do prepare a bath and clothes for her to wear—I'm sure Señor Santos has something for her," my mother said.
The maid nodded, "Right away. Excuse me."
Once she left the room, I furrowed my eyebrows at my mother, "He wants me to meet him in his bedroom!? Who the hell does he think I am!?"
"From what I understand, he's popular with the ladies," she shrugged, "But I don't think he's disrespectful, and I don't think he's inviting you to his bedroom to try and get into your pants."
I eyed her skeptically, "You've met him. What is he like?"
I couldn't lie and say that I wasn't wondering about him. I was supposed to be marrying him after all.
"Well, he's handsome," she started, "He's a suit, for lack of a better term."
"I see," I said turning around and sitting on the edge of the bed.
I interlaced my fingers with Enzo's hand and stared at his face, taking in every single detail as if this would be the last time I saw him. Then taking a deep breath, I got up and headed for the bathroom.
Once I had got there, there had been a bath set up for me and all kinds of soaps, salts, and oils on the side. The bathroom was massive with marble floors and a bathtub that was dug into the floor.
I stepped in automatically feeling comforted by the water. I scrubbed myself clean and once I was done I dried myself off and took a look at the clothes that were left for me.
It was a blue pencil skirt and a long sleeve white button down blouse. The generic mafia wife outfit, of course. I rolled my eyes and reluctantly put the clothes on. A pair of black Christian Vuittons had been set aside and I slipped into them.
After a minute or two, three servants entered and began to work on my hair, makeup, and bandages. While one of them worked on slicking my hair into a low back bun with a side part, the other gently applied makeup to my face. The third must have been a nurse, because she expertly replaced the bandages at my wrists and gave me some medicine to relieve my pain.
Once they were done, they all left the room in a synchronized order. Allowing for another servant to come in and guide me to Ismael's quarters.
I treaded inside the room, letting the sound of my heels hitting the marble floors clear my thoughts.
His quarters was a sure understatement—the room was basically an open concept apartment with a massive bedroom, living room, and dining area.
The dining table was filled with wonderful smelling food and standing behind it gazing through a window, was who I presumed to be my future husband—Ismael Santos.
- - End of Chapter - -