Violent Delights (White Monarch 1)

“Once the Maldonados hear about the fire, they’ll come looking for me.” A vein in his forehead appeared as he tensed his jaw. “I can’t recover from this.”

“No, you can’t.”

He swallowed, his hands twitching as if he had to resist throwing a punch. “So, here I am. You have me where you want me. What do you want, Cristiano?”

“Nobody gives me what I want. I take it.”

He ran a hand through his hair and made a fist. “I’ve cost them over a hundred million dollars. They’ll crucify me. And Costa. And everyone who ever spoke a word to me.”

I rounded my desk with my drink and undid my jacket. “You knew the risk of writing a check you might not be able to cash.”

“I would’ve been able to—if not for you.”

“There is no use in if, Diego.” I sat in my leather chair and leaned back. Diego continued to stand tall, though I read the agitation in his eyes and hands. “What’s done is done.”

“So that’s it. You’ll ruin the Cruzes too? Stand back and watch as the cartel takes revenge on everyone involved—me, my men . . . Natalia?”

I didn’t respond at first, letting that sink in for Diego. He had fucked with me, and now I had the power to destroy him and everyone he loved. His precious Natalia too, who’d be especially devastated since she’d been lying to herself for years that she wanted nothing to do with this life. Now his sins would be hers.

When recognition of my reach began to cross his features, I spoke again.

“Ángel Maldonado and I happen to have an amicable relationship,” I said, crossing an ankle over one knee. “For his mercy, I will pay a hefty price, but it can be arranged—for those I find deserving, at least.”

He shoulders loosened just a little. “I figured as much. So what do you want in exchange for that ‘hefty price’?”

“From you? Nothing. I’ll pay the toll to spare Costa and his family—who have acted as my family.”

“And me?” he asked, drawing back. “Your own brother?”

“You’ve been in my shoes.” I opened the top drawer of my desk and took out a box of Cubans. “You had the chance to save my life by speaking to my innocence, but you didn’t.”

“I was trying to protect the family you claim to love. I had no reason to believe you weren’t guilty.”

I cut the tip of one cigar and glanced up at Diego to scrutinize his reaction to what I said next. “I’m not sure I believe that.”

His jaw set as the pulse at the base of his neck quickened. He flattened his hands on my desk. “Whatever lies you’ve convinced yourself of, you can’t hide from the truth. You’d murder your own brother.”

“No. The Maldonados will do it for me.” I flicked my lighter and held the flame to the end of the cigar. “You left me at the mercy of another—now I’ll do the same for you.”

“Why not just shoot me here?” he asked. “Don’t you have the guts?”

“I hope for a long, prosperous relationship with Costa if he wants one.”

“And killing me might jeopardize that.”

“I’m not killing you. You got yourself into this mess. I’m simply not going to help you.” I puffed on the cigar, feeling gratified, then offered it to him. “Eye for an eye, Diego. It’s more than you deserve after everything you’ve done.”

He ignored my gift and straightened up, regaining composure as if he’d grasped an answer that could earn his freedom. There was none, but I’d play along until I got bored. I’d waited for this moment too long to rush it.

“You want to see me stripped of everything? My family, my money, my woman?” he asked. “You hold the cards, Cristiano. Estás encargado. I’m at your mercy—but you cannot let Maldonados go through with this. They won’t just kill me . . . they will make an example of me—”

“As they should.” I traded the cigar for my drink. With a celebratory sip of tequila, I ran my tongue over my teeth, pleased to find revenge had hints of peach and sweet agave. “There has been a snake in the grass far too long, and it’s only fair somebody separate its deceitful mind from its body.”

He began to pace in front of my desk. “Name your price, then.”

“There’s none.”

“There’s always a price. Whatever it is, however high, tell me now.”

I watched him quietly, reveling in the way his eyebrows knitted together when the truth dawned on him. This was the final puzzle piece he’d come looking for today, the one thing he couldn’t figure out. What did I want in exchange for taking mercy on him?

Nothing.

I hadn’t manipulated him into this position to extract anything. Because of him, I’d suffered. For years, I’d been on the run, looking over my shoulder for a sicario in the dark. I’d lived with the knowledge that the people I’d cared for most had thought me a traitor. I had pulled myself from nothing and built an empire. I was wealthier than God and surrounded by a steadfast army. I’d made peace with Costa. All that remained was to see my brother pay for his sins, which I suspected ran deeper than he was willing to admit.