The Devil's Plaything

Nobody sells in my kingdom. I’m the king here, and soon, this scum will learn this truth the hard way. He’s taking from me, so I’ll take from him. Before he has time to spend the money he’s making, I’ll fucking steal everything he holds dear.

I’m about to throw orders at the young man, but as soon as I open my mouth, we’re joined by my right-hand man. He saunters into my office like he owns it. He’s the only person I’ll allow to enter without asking permission. My men all know that if they step foot inside my space without me requesting it, they’ll be thrown into the cells in the bowels of the mansion.

Javier smirks when he settles in the chair that’s positioned to the right of my desk. He picks up the folder, scanning the images much the same way I had. A sneer curls his lips when he flips the images over.

“This is a fucking cunt who needs to be put down,” he utters in disgust. Dark eyes meet mine. Javier’s had my back since we were in school; the asshole stole my lunch, I beat him to a pulp, and then he became my best friend.

“I want him found. Focus all manpower on this issue and use every connection I have. Get the team out there and do it now.” Javier nods, waving his hand. He gestures to the young newbie, causing him to mumble a yes, sir before scurrying off.

“He’ll do as I ask,” Javier informs me.

“Oh?” Quirking a brow, I watch the slow smirk that crawls along his face. A glint of satisfaction makes him look almost manic, but I know Javier, and I know he’s clearly done something to the younger man.

“He’s trying to impress me,” he tells me. “I’m handsome, a motherfucking god in my own right. Not my fault everyone wants to fuck me.” He seems elated with this information.

“You let him suck your dick?” I question, waiting for a response.

“Not yet, but he’s definitely doing as I say for now. It’s the promise of forbidden fruit, and you dangle it like a carrot until they obey. It’s a beautiful agreement between master and slave.”

“I see.” Settling back in my chair, I lift the cigar to my lips and take a long drag, filling my lungs with smoke. As I puff out white cloudy circles, the woman I fucked last night comes strolling into my office. Casting my glance at her, I question, “Did I offer you an invite to enter?”

She freezes mid-step. “I-I…” Her glance flits over to me, then to Javier. “Lo siento, Mr. Cordero,” she utters in fake innocence. This bitch is so far from innocent. Last night, I fucked her ass so hard, leaving it gaping from the thickness of my dick. And she licked my cock after, like it was a fucking lollipop.

“Get out.” Waving my hand in the air, I dismiss her. The shock on her face is clear, but I don’t give a fuck about her feelings. She was a hole for the night.

“But—”

Pinning her with a glare, which advises her not to question me, I wait until the whore is out of my space and Javier is at the door, ordering men to escort her off the property. He normally admonishes me when I’ve had some whore in the house, mainly because he doesn’t trust them. To be fair, I don’t either, that’s why I offer them enough coke to ensure they’re too high to remember any shit that went down.

And if they talk, they’ll lose their tongue, among other important bits. I’m ruthless. A cold-hearted asshole, and I like to keep it that way. My father spent years telling me that if I ever appeared weak, I would lose everything—the Cartel, my home, and my country. He trained me that way, and I need to make him proud because I loved him more than I knew was possible. He was my hero, someone I looked up to all my life. He was a good man, but he was never weak. Even on his deathbed, he showed strength in his sickness. So, I decided that I would never have a woman weaken me by falling in love. And even though I did break that rule once, I vowed to never do it again.

“I want this fucker found.” My finger jabs the folder as I snub out my cigar in the ashtray, before meeting Javier’s inquisitive gaze. He’s expecting me to explain who the fuck the whore was, but that’s not happening.

“He will be, Victor,” he tells me in his thick accent that matches mine. “How about we head out of the city to the house on the coast? It would give us time to figure out what we’re going to about Rodrigo.” His suggestion has me quirking a brow. “It’s been too long since we’ve been on the beaches of Cancun.”