Javier ~
The air in La Sombra was as suffocating as ever, thick with smoke and the distant thrum of music from the club above. I leaned back in my chair, the worn leather creaking under me, my eyes fixed on the group of men seated around the table. Darian, with his sharp eyes that missed nothing, sat to my left, fidgeting slightly. Raul, cocky as always, smirked like he had all the answers, while Gustavo, the youngest of the lot, looked like he was still getting used to sitting in on meetings like this.
The topic was Tampa—extortion and gambling, two of the most reliable streams in that territory. Reliable until now, anyway. Collections were down, and I wasn't in the mood for excuses. "Someone better start talking," I said, my voice low but cutting. "Why the hell are profits dropping in Tampa?"
Darian cleared his throat, his tone calm but carrying the weight of someone who didn't want to mess up. "It's the local businesses. A few of them are refusing to pay. We've sent warnings, but it seems like someone's been giving them the courage to push back."
"Courage?" I repeated, letting the word hang in the air as I leaned forward. My eyes scanned the room, settling on each of them in turn. "Courage gets people killed in this business."
Raul chuckled, an irritating sound that grated on my nerves. "It's probably just some local wannabe hero. I'll send a guy to make an example. They'll fall in line."
I slammed my hand down on the table, the sudden noise making Gustavo flinch. "We don't send a guy. We send a message. A loud one. Something they'll still hear when they're six feet under."
Raul's smirk faded, and he gave me a quick nod. "Understood."
"And what about the gambling rings?" I turned my attention to Gustavo, who looked like he wanted to shrink into his chair. "You've been running point on those. What's the issue there?"
Gustavo stammered for a moment before finding his words. "There's competition. A smaller outfit trying to set up shop in Tampa. They're offering higher payouts to the players and cutting into our profits."
"Names. Locations. Everything you know."
"We're still gathering intel—"
"Not fast enough." I cut him off. "By the end of the week, I want those operations shut down. Permanently. And if I find out they've been given even a second to breathe, you'll wish you were one of them."
Gustavo nodded quickly, swallowing hard.
I stood, adjusting my jacket as I did. "This isn't a damn democracy. Tampa will remember who owns them. You've got two days to fix this." Without waiting for their responses, I strode toward the door, leaving the air behind me colder than it had been when I walked in.
I was about to head upstairs to the main floor when the basement door creaked open, and Victor walked in. His broad frame filled the doorway, the usual confidence in his step faltering just slightly—a detail most wouldn't notice, but I wasn't most people.
"Javier," he greeted, his voice steady, though his eyes darted for half a second toward Darian and Gustavo before settling on me. "We've got a situation with the weapons shipment in Veracruz."
I raised an eyebrow and crossed my arms. "What kind of situation?"
"Some of the locals intercepted the cargo before it reached the port. They're holding it hostage, demanding a bigger cut for letting our shipments through." His tone was matter-of-fact, but there was something off in the way he stood—his weight shifting from one foot to the other, his jaw tight.
"And you're telling me this now because…?" I let the question hang, my eyes narrowing as I watched him.
Victor ran a hand through his hair, a sign he was more irritated than usual. "We were handling it. I sent a crew to remind them who they're dealing with, but it didn't go as planned."
"It didn't go as planned?" I repeated, my voice calm, though the edge in it was sharp enough to cut.
"They killed two of our men," he admitted, his gaze dropping for a fraction of a second before snapping back to me. "But we know where they're holed up now. I'll take care of it myself."
Normally, Victor didn't falter. He handled situations like these without blinking, but something was definitely off tonight. The tension in his shoulders, the quickness of his words, even the faint dark circles under his eyes—Victor wasn't himself.
"You sure you're up for it?" I asked, my tone low, testing him.
Victor frowned, his jaw tightening as he squared his shoulders. "Always, Jefe."
I nodded slowly, not breaking eye contact. "Good. Because if you're distracted, you'll only make things worse."
He didn't respond immediately, but his lips pressed into a thin line, and his gaze flickered for a split second—just enough to confirm what I already suspected. Something was eating at him, and it wasn't just the job.
"Go handle Veracruz," I said, my voice cold as steel. "And Victor…"
He paused, hand on the door.
"Don't make me clean up another mess."
Victor gave a curt nod and disappeared through the door, but his unusual demeanor stayed with me long after he was gone. Something was off, and it wasn't like Victor to let personal matters bleed into business.
__
By the time I reached my villa, the weight of the day had settled heavily on my shoulders. La Sombra's chaos was behind me, but it had left its mark. My sleek, modern villa was a far cry from the grittiness of the Cartels' world—a calculated contrast. It was quiet, pristine, and utterly detached from the blood-soaked empire I ruled.
Stripping off my shirt, I stepped into the bathroom and let the water scald my skin. The heat did little to wash away the tension coiling in my muscles, but it was enough to make me feel human again—if only for a moment.
I stood under the stream longer than usual, letting the steam cloud the mirrors and the silence stretch. Once dressed in casuals, I made my way to the study, a tumbler of whiskey already waiting on the desk.
The villa's stillness was interrupted by a knock at the door. I barely had time to glance up before my housekeeper's voice called out, "Señor Rodriguez, Miss Camila is here to see you."
We hadn't met since she returned from Vegas, four days back. Maybe that's why she was here, to talk about the wedding preparations in which I was least interested.
Camila walked in, a light smile on her face. She was always calm and composed and definitely the most intellectual person I'd ever met.
"How's the territory deal going?" she asked, lowering herself into the chair across from me.
"Same as usual," I replied, taking a sip of my whiskey. "Tightening some loose ends. How was Vegas? Any interesting developments?"
She shrugged nonchalantly. "The wedding stuff is all set. Giorgia's dress was a showstopper. Oh, and speaking of the trip..." Camila paused, fiddling with her drink, clearly lost in thought. "Victor didn't really... enjoy himself."
I raised an eyebrow, interested but not showing it. "Oh? I thought he was handling things well."
"Yeah, that's what I thought too," Camila said, her voice soft. "But it was more obvious when we got back. I think he was just... frustrated. I mean, it's hard when someone you care about gets so... close to someone else."
I frowned slightly. "Care about?"
She blinked, clearly realizing her slip-up. "Ah, I didn't mean care care," she quickly corrected. "I meant... you know. Friends. Childhood friends. Like... Lucia."
I caught the slight change in her tone when she said Lucia's name—a tension she probably didn't even realize was there. "Lucia?" I repeated, my voice calm but pointed. I gave her a look, waiting for her to elaborate, though I wasn't particularly interested. "Camila, you're overthinking," I said, cutting her off before she could spiral. My tone was clipped, dismissive. She had a knack for finding meanings where there were none, a habit that often tested my already limited patience.
"Whatever, forget about it," she said quickly, her voice taking on a more serious edge. "I wanted to talk to you about Giorgia."
That single sentence snapped my attention to her. "What about her?" I asked, my tone sharp, though I kept my expression neutral.
Camila released a heavy breath, her usual spark dimming. "She's not happy, Javier," she said softly, almost accusingly.
A humorless chuckle escaped me. "And you think I am?" I shot back, raising a brow.
Her eyes narrowed, her frustration flaring. "You can't compare the two. You're not the one leaving your entire world behind to spend a life with someone you don't even know!"
I leaned back in my chair, unfazed by her outburst. "Look," I said coolly, "I gave her two years—two whole years—to mature, to prepare herself for what was coming. Don't act like I dragged her into this kicking and screaming. I didn't force her to marry me."
Camila's jaw tightened. She wasn't buying my defense, but I didn't care. Giorgia had been barely eighteen when the arrangement was made, a girl trying to hold her own in a world that would chew her up and spit her out. I wasn't about to saddle myself with someone so unprepared. That's why I gave her the time—time she should've used wisely.
"Two years," I repeated, more to myself than to Camila, though my tone carried an edge of finality. "That's more than fair."
She closed her eyes briefly, as if trying to rein in her frustration. When she spoke, her tone was measured but firm. "She's scared of you, Javier. What I'm trying to say is, don't be an ass. Treat her like the lady she is, and for once in your goddamn life, keep the devil you pride yourself on outside the door when you're with her."
With that, Camila turned and left, her disappointment hanging in the air. As she walked away, my mind drifted back to Giorgia...I couldn't shake off the image of her—those blue eyes that looked at me with a mix of fear and hesitation, her delicate hand trembling in mine. Everyone knew the devil that lived inside me. It wasn't like I was marrying her for anything else other than business and securing an heir for the Cartels.
No doubt that she looks fucking gorgeous, irresistible even. But that's where it ended. Emotions have no place here and honestly I don't even think I'm capable of giving her any, even if I wanted to. She wasn't some damsel I was supposed to rescue, nor some woman I was meant to love. I didn't have the luxury for that. She needed to understand this wasn't just about her; it was about the bigger picture, the Cartels, the power we were supposed to build.
I leaned back in my chair, rubbing the back of my neck as I tried to push the thoughts of Giorgia aside. There was still work to do, still territories to secure, deals to finalize.
But even as I tried to focus on the tasks ahead, my thoughts kept circling back to her. What did she expect from this marriage? I could give her wealth beyond her imagination—materialistic luxuries that most people could only dream of. If she wanted something, I could make it hers with a snap of my fingers. Hell, I could buy her an entire island if it pleased her.
But the sentimental crap? Dates, dinners, quiet moments spent together? That wasn't me. I wasn't the kind of man who could offer her a warm embrace after a long day or whisper sweet nothings in her ear. My world didn't allow for that. I was rarely home, barely slept, and spent my days navigating blood-stained deals and power plays.
And let's face it—I wasn't the damn fairytale husband she might've dreamed of. I wasn't kind, I wasn't gentle, and I sure as hell wasn't someone who could pretend to be. This marriage was built on necessity, not romance, and I could only hope she understood that before she started hoping for more.
My phone's ring broke through my thoughts, snapping me back to reality. I grabbed it, thankful for the distraction. I couldn't let one woman disturb my already fucked up mental health.
"Rodriguez," I answered curtly, leaning back in my chair.
"Javier, my boy," Esteban Salazar's smooth, calculated voice came through the line. Esteban, the underboss of the Cartels' Louisiana territory, was a man who thrived on manipulation and strategy.
"What can I do for you?" I asked, keeping my tone neutral. Dealing with him always required a level head.
"I thought it'd be better to hear it from me directly," he began, his voice dripping with practiced charm. "I wanted to personally invite you to my daughter Lucia's engagement party next week. She's getting engaged to Manuel Lopez."
Manuel Lopez. The name was enough to tell me what this was about. The Lopez family held significant weight in the Cartels, their influence sprawling across key territories. Esteban was clearly angling for a stronger position by tying his family to theirs. The move was predictable, yet bold.
"Congratulations to Lucia," I replied, keeping my tone diplomatic. "Lopez is a solid match."
"That he is," Esteban said, a hint of satisfaction in his voice. "This union will strengthen ties, don't you think?"
Strengthen ties? No, this was about Esteban climbing the ladder, using his daughter as leverage. I didn't care much for family theatrics, but I knew the game well enough to see his endgame.
"I'll make arrangements to attend," I said simply, avoiding any deeper engagement in his obvious ploy.
"Wonderful. It'll be an affair to remember," he added, as if I needed convincing.
We shifted gears to business, discussing shipments moving through his territories and a minor issue with a debt collector in New Orleans. Esteban, as always, painted himself as indispensable, carefully highlighting his value to the Cartels.
"Handle the collector discreetly," I instructed when the topic circled back. "No public messes."
"Of course," he assured me smoothly.
The call ended soon after, and I set the phone down, leaning forward as I ran a hand through my hair. Esteban's moves didn't surprise me, but they were a reminder that in our world, every relationship, every favor, and every decision came with strings attached.
I ended the call and set the phone down on the desk, the conversation still lingering in my mind. The night stretched long, and the weight of responsibilities settled heavier on my shoulders. I rubbed a hand over my face, exhaling deeply.
Stripping off my shirt, I made my way to the bedroom, the dim lighting casting shadows across the sleek, modern space. Sleep wasn't something I indulged in much, but tonight, I needed the reprieve, even if only for a few hours. Lying down, I let the hum of the night silence my thoughts, knowing tomorrow would bring more chaos.
___
The house was a sprawling estate, a symbol of wealth and power, but there was nothing warm about it. The engagement party of Lucia Salazar and Manuel Lopez was in full swing. The soft hum of conversation, clinking glasses, and faint music filled the air. Only a selected few were invited to this gathering—key players from the Cartels and trusted allies.
I stood near the bar, a glass of whiskey in hand, exchanging stiff pleasantries with a few underbosses and captains. "Expansion in Kentucky looks promising," one of them commented.
I nodded, uninterested in indulging in small talk but aware of the need to keep up appearances. My eyes swept the room, always vigilant. The Lopez family held power, and this marriage was just another calculated move to secure alliances and climb the ladder.
Ivan approached me, drink in hand and his tie already loose. "You look like you're about to shoot someone," he teased, his smirk cocky as ever.
"Don't tempt me," I replied dryly, earning a laugh from him. Ivan was never one to take anything too seriously, a trait that annoyed me and, at times, oddly reassured me.
As we exchanged a few words about the territories and the evening's business talk, my attention was drawn to Victor. He was standing near a corner, his posture unusually tense, his gaze flicking to Lucia more often than necessary. He looked like he was trying too hard to blend in and failing miserably.
I leaned toward Ivan, lowering my voice. "Have you noticed Victor tonight?"
Ivan followed my gaze, then shrugged with a mischievous grin. "What? He's got a thing for Salazar's princess? Can't blame the guy; she's got the face to turn heads."
I shot him a warning look, but his grin only widened. "Relax, Javi. You're acting like you've never seen a guy lose his cool over a woman."
But I couldn't relax. Camila's earlier words came back to me, her casual slip about something going on between Victor and Lucia. At the time, I brushed it off, thinking she was overanalyzing as usual. But now, watching Victor, the pieces didn't seem so far-fetched.
Still, I kept my expression unreadable. "Keep an eye on him," I told Ivan, my tone clipped.
Ivan raised a brow but nodded, taking another sip of his drink. "Whatever you say, boss. But you might want to check your jealousy meter—just in case."
I ignored his jab, my attention fixed on Victor, and the uncomfortable knot forming in my chest. Something wasn't right.
As the evening wore on, my mind began to wander. Lucia stood near Manuel, her polite smile never reaching her eyes. She was promised to him, tied by the expectations of power and loyalty. Yet Victor's behavior tonight made it clear there was something else brewing beneath the surface.
What if there was more to this engagement than what appeared? What if she wasn't as committed to Manuel as she seemed? It was an unsettling thought, one that led me to a darker corner of my mind.
Giorgia.
It had been a while since I last saw her. My fiancée. My own arranged pawn in this game of alliances. A thought struck me: What if she wasn't so different from Lucia? What if there was something—or someone—she was hiding from me?
My jaw tightened at the memory Victor had shared that night at the Torrini mansion, about catching Giorgia and Martina sneaking back in the house late at night. I hadn't thought much of it then, brushing it off as childish rebellion. But now? My mind spun with possibilities. Who could she have been meeting? Was she keeping secrets from me?
The idea festered, growing with each passing second. I didn't like being in the dark, and I hated the notion that someone under my name might be playing games behind my back.
My decision was made before I even realized it. It was time to pay a visit to my future wife and remind her just who the hell she belongs to.