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He doesn’t finish as his scream rends the air, the pain-filled sound reverberating throughout every square inch of this office and lobby. A lobby that exists purely for appearance’s sake and whose front desk is run by my employees.
The building is mine.
The people within will do anything I ask.
These concrete walls have seen more than one person take their final breath.
And while his friend sits beside him, kneecap blown, Signio doesn’t move. He doesn’t look. Pussy.
“Anything else?” No response other than muffled cries as Samuel bites down on his knuckles. Calmly, I place my gun down. “Are you sure there isn’t anything else you want me to know?”
“No.” It’s low and meek and pathetic. Fucking culicagados trying to play men.
“Louder.”
“No. Nothing else, Lucas,” Signio says, now refusing to meet my stare.
“And you, Samuel?”
His hands grip his fragmented knee, blood pooling below him and onto my carpeted floor. “No, sir.”
“Good.” Pushing my chair back roughly, I stand to my full height with narrowed eyes. “Now, listen very carefully because I will only say this once. Nod if you understand.” They do, looking just like the sniveling bobbleheads they are. “If you ever step foot inside my building in any way that isn’t respectful, I will personally cut off your head and mail it to your parents. What I do…” I keep my voice low, but my simmering ire is clear “…is none of your fucking business, and you best remember that. Is that clear?”
“Alejandro, I didn’t mean to disrespect you. She’s my intended and her father would—”
“Stay away from Solimar, Signio. This is your only warning.”
“I can’t do that. We’re getting married.”
Placing both hands palms down atop my desk, I lean forward. “I’ll slit your throat before you ever make it to the altar.”
At my words, his face pales and hands shake. His curiosity is also piqued. “Why do you care about her?” Signio’s voice is low, the words muttered. “Why does she matter?”
“How I deal with each Quintero is none of your concern.” His mouth opens; he’s dying to ask more or offer some kind of bullshit assistance, but we both know it’s fake. I know a lot more than he thinks. Know his true intentions. The things he’s done. “This is your cue to leave.”
“I—” That’s all he gets out, rushing to pull his friend up as my fingers wrap around the gun’s handle. “We’re leaving. Have a good day.”
“You do that.” He’s a dead man.
“Señor Lucas, she’s in her room now,” her guard speaks lowly into the phone, and the sound of a door closing carries through the line a few seconds later. “It’s been a rough day for her.”
“What happened?” I hiss out through clenched teeth. My earlier visit with Cortez has left me in a shit mood. He’s lucky I didn’t end him today, that I’m giving him more time to dig a deeper hole. “Who upset her?”
“Solimar argued with her mother today after lunch.” Carlos exhales roughly. “They’d visited an orphanage today, and when a staged reporter outside of the building asked about the pending nuptials, the first lady gave an exclusive.”
“What kind?”
“That Solimar has been dress shopping, which is the furthest thing from the truth.”
“Why would she do that?” The plastic in my hand groans, the phone’s case cracking at the center in my tight grip. “Is there something I don’t know, Carlos?”
“No, Patron. That was a lie and Solimar became so upset, letting her emotions out once they were both seated in the back of their SUV.”
“What was said?”
“Solimar demanded to know whose team she was on? If she’s ever really planned to help her get out of that sham of an engagement.”
“And did Veronica Quintero ever have her daughter’s best interest at heart?” We both knew the answer, but I needed the verbal conformation on this betrayal. Something is going on with Solimar’s mother, and I’m beginning to think she’s playing a dangerous game.
