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On a handsome man.
On a dangerous man.
On a man who’s starred in every fantasy I’ve ever had while simultaneously being my destruction, and I have bigger problems than simply sneaking out to a rooftop bar.
I know who he is. There’s no mistaking his face.
Alejandro Lucas is an enemy of my father and a known killer. Someone with no scruples.
He’s also looking at me in a way that sets my body ablaze, and I feel weak. Trapped. Engulfed by his heated stare that lingers over areas that no man has touched.
Turn around and leave…
He licks his bottom lip, and my thighs tremble.
He slowly rubs two fingers over his lips, and my mouth becomes dry.
He’s a predator and I’m the innocent lamb caught in his trap, afraid to so much as breathe for fear that he’ll pounce.
My father and grandfather have always warned me about him. About his family. About the threat they pose to the citizens of this country and abroad—the many lives lost due to their greed and corruption—but he failed to warn me about this man’s natural ability to turn women into willing victims without uttering a single word.
Across the VIP section and sitting in a chair fit for a king, Alejandro owns the room. Owns my attention, and looking away isn’t an option. I just can’t; he takes me in, and I do the same.
I’m memorizing his handsome face with a sharp jaw, the perfect five o’clock shadow, and an inviting mouth—those eyes the color of cognac that seems to glow in the low lighting and ensnare me. Alejandro says something, his head tilting a bit to the side, but not once does he look away.
There’s a back and forth, his facial features becoming hard the more he listens to whoever is answering him. At the same time, someone beside me laughs, their arm bumping into mine, but I ignore them. They tap my shoulder to gain my attention, but I simply hold a hand up to where a second or two later, they place a shot glass between my fingers. I grab it tightly. My fingers molding around the small object and I blindly throw back its contents without asking what it is.
Who cares at this point. I welcome the automatic burn that builds and then settles into a warming embrace. It doesn’t calm my racing heart or the thoughts in my head that can’t ever be—curiosity killed the cat and I refuse to travel down that road, no matter how much my body awakens beneath his perusal.
There’s no denying he disarms me. Always has.
He’s been my crush for years, a secret that no one, not even Laura, knows about.
My saving grace has always been that my fascination never deviated from something I did behind a screen. Googling him. His appearances. His ties to the mob and roles he plays in the opioid crisis around the globe; the good, bad, and why he’s untouchable as of now.
Pharmaceutical companies hold clout in places other than just the US.
Alejandro’s lips thin, and he hisses out something I can’t make out from where I stand. I’m so busy watching his lips move that it takes me a minute to notice the gun in his hand and the barrel pointing at the chest of another man with him. He’s demanding something, the expression on his face now murderous, and finally, he looks away from me.
His hand holding the gun doesn’t waver.
His eyes narrow at the man who holds two hands up.
I can’t watch this. He’s going to kill him.
I’m moving before anyone can ask me where I’m going, my feet rushing toward the elevator as my lungs fight for air. It’s on the other side of the floor and I see people waiting for the cart, and just as I plan to join and blend in, someone close says his name.
I dart past the now opening doors, making my way through a sea of bodies dancing, doing things that shouldn’t be permitted out in public, and dart inside the women’s bathroom in an alcove-sized hallway that’s only big enough to fit three people max.
I’m lucky no one’s standing there or waiting to use the facilities, and once inside with the door closed behind me, I let out the breath I’ve been holding. I knew coming here was a bad idea.
Opening the faucet, I let the cool water run before grabbing a few paper towels and dipping them beneath the stream. I’m hot and my heart’s racing and I can’t allow myself anywhere near him. To see if his lips taste like heavenly danger.
He’s a criminal, Solimar. He tried to kill your abuelo—Alejandro Lucas is the reason we left Colombia to protect you, your mother, and abuela.
Dad’s words ring in my ears as I rub the damp napkin across the back of my neck. They are a mantra I can’t ignore. The look on his face as he said them matched the pure venom each syllable was coated in.
Our families don’t mix.
