Violent Delights (White Monarch 1)

“Of course he’ll say that,” Diego said. “It’s to plant a seed of doubt in your mind about me.” He used both hands to smooth my hair back from my face. “Is it working, Tali?”

I hadn’t thought of much since yesterday except the new information involving my mother’s death, and what Dad had warned about Diego’s entrenchment in this world. I’d fought my father on each point, but with some distance, I worried his arguments might hold some validity. “Could you be happy in Santa Clara with me?” I asked. “It’s nothing like here.”

“My love . . .” He held my cheeks and pressed his lips to my forehead. “Are you seriously asking if I can endure a life where I’m not in danger of being killed—or killing—each day . . . and I get to sleep by your side each night?”

I smiled a little. “It does sound ridiculous when you put it that way, but still. What would you do for work?”

“That’s why this Maldonado deal means so much to me,” he said. “The money I’ll make off it will set us up for a long time, Tali. And if your father makes an ongoing arrangement with them, even if I get a small percent for brokering the contract—it will be enough that neither of us will even have to work again.”

“But I don’t want that,” I said. “I want an honest job and clean money. I’m not working this hard for a business degree I’m not going to use.”

“It’s not about the money, Natalia. It’s important to me as a man that I provide for you. That means gifting you the freedom to follow your dreams, whatever they are, free of any financial burden.”

“And what about your dreams?”

“I’m afraid to have any until I know I can.” He smiled sadly and hugged me to him. “Once I pull this off, I can do anything. Including marry you. I want your father’s approval, believe me—it would mean everything to have him see me as a suitable son-in-law. But at the end of the day, once I can support us no matter what, Costa doesn’t have to agree.”

I shook my head. “I could never abandon him,” I said.

“Then we’ll stay in California or wherever you want, but we’re old enough to decide for ourselves. He’ll have to learn to accept our plans if he wants you in his life.” He smiled. “Because I’m not going anywhere. You will be my wife.”

Excitement tickled my tummy the way a sip of champagne fizzed in my mouth. The idea of walking down the aisle to him made me giddy.

“Let’s finish this talk over food. I’m starving.” He pulled me by my hand. “Did you eat?”

“I had lunch with Pilar,” I said as we walked back through the house. When I noticed Diego humming Led Zeppelin, I gave him a quizzical look.

“I’ve had it stuck in my head since this morning,” he said. “There’s this new drug in development, and it’s called Escalera al Cielo.”

“Stairway to Heaven,” I translated.

“Sí.” In the kitchen, he disappeared into the pantry. “You remember that guy Juan Pablo Perez?”

“The really good chemist from Nogales?” I asked as I sat at the dining table.

“He’s more than really good. He’s one of the top scientists in the country now. Probably the world.” He returned and handed me a Coke Light. “Tepic told me yesterday he invented a sedative with tetro-something. It’s a neurotoxin that comes from . . . ¿cómo se dice? Botete? What’s the word in English?”

“Puffer fish,” I said and tabbed open my soda.

“Sí. Anyway, it’s poisonous to ingest, but Tepic says in the right dosage, it’s not fatal.”

I sipped my cola. “Why would anyone want to take that?”

“Because, as Tepic put it,” Diego said, gesticulating with flourish to imitate Tepic, “it’s supposed to be a high more addicting than coke. More life-altering than ayahuasca. More euphoric than ecstasy.”

I giggled, raising my soda can. “But is it more satisfying than Coca-Cola?”

“Apparently.”

“But why the name?”

“Juan Pablo says it’s a round-trip ticket to heaven.” Diego came and hugged my neck from behind. “It’s peaceful. Euphoric. It starts with tingling in the lips . . .” He kissed the corner of my mouth, then brushed his lips over my neck. “Then moves down to your fingers and arms. It puts you in a trance, and . . .” He tapped me once between the breasts with his fingertip. “Slows your heart . . .” He waited several seconds, then tapped again. “Like that.”

I put my hands on his forearms, keeping him close. “That sounds dangerous.”

“That’s the price for a high like no other.” He kissed my cheek and returned to looking in the fridge.

“And with the wrong dose?” I asked.

“What?”

“You said with the right dose, it’s not fatal. What happens if Juan Pablo gets it wrong?”