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Andy Cruz wants to traffic through my territory: age thirty and the son of a Cuban diplomat who has the backing of the current regime.
Jadiel and Belinda Rojas want to gain my connections to Chicago, Colombia, and the UK through a bullshit friendship. He’s twenty-five and his family comes from Venezuela. He’s power-hungry, and his wife is a movable pawn at his disposal; she approached Luna first, but my beauty isn’t stupid.
You can’t hide their envy. You can’t hide their desperation.
And yet we’ve let both players run. Let the cord loose, but back in Havana, things are changing. Ropes have become nooses and the first to crack and run back to her home country is Mrs. Rojas, but not before personally handing me a recording of her husband and his father.
Not that she got far.
Setting the papers aside, I lie back and close my eyes. Their fates are inevitable.
Unconsciously, Luna shifts closer in her sleep and I smirk. “Am I too far?” I ask, not that I’ll get a reply; my poor girl is out like a light, but I take the twitch of her hand as a response. It’s good enough for me, and I wrap my arms around her small frame and relax, closing my eyes while following her breathing.
The rhythmic rise and fall lull me.
Her sweet scent gives me a reprieve from thoughts of revenge.
Those I’ll save for later. Instead, I give in and sink further into the mattress with the only thing that matters within my arms.
There’s beeping in the room and I turn my head to the noise, opening one eye. It’s my phone and our alarm, the signal from the pilot that he’ll be landing shortly so as to not wake Mrs. De Leon. Not that I’ll be moving her to our seat.
Instead, my arms tighten around her as we begin to descend, and I lay kisses on the side of her head, breathing in that natural sweetness that permeates her skin. At this, Luna gives a short grumble and I pause, but she settles right back down.
Just that small noise and I’m thankful. Makes my little surprise so much easier to pull off.
The landing is a bit bumpy, wheels jumping as they gain traction on the hot asphalt and then they turn, sliding into the private hangar where men wait to load our belongings into my car. From our place on the bed, I hear the door open and then the low chatter as the crew disembarks and the others grab her bag and mine.
We won’t need much while we’re here.
No clothes. No barriers.
Moreover, I don’t get up until everyone disperses.
They have orders to stay on land at a home fifteen minutes from here, while we’ll take residence on the property attached to this landing strip with an ocean view and her name written on the deed. My gift to her. One of the many.
“Let’s celebrate, beautiful.” Slipping a hand beneath her head and the back of her knees, I bring Luna up to my chest and exit the room and then the plane, shielding her face from the harsh morning sun even though the sleep mask protects her. It’s milder than back home but just as bright, and I sit her carefully in the back of my white G-wagon before slipping behind the wheel. It’s a short drive to the other side of the property before I’m pulling into the underground parking structure and rushing to her side, being careful to grab her and walk inside the property without alerting her.
She’s been out for two and a half hours, and I know she has a few more to go before reawakening. And with her comfort in mind, I head toward the back of the house where our room is. As I pass the living room the breeze sweeps around us, the large, three-panel sliding glass door connecting the outside with the inside, opens to the short path that leads to the warm Dominican waters.
Past that room, a short hallway leads us to the master bedroom, and just like I instructed those hired to clean and stock our home, the windows and French doors are wide open. The bed is turned down and I place her on the left side, removing her fuzzy socks and yoga pants—and then, because I can, I cut off her thin tank top with a small pair of scissors I find inside the en-suite bath.
I leave her in nothing but a red lace bra and panty set with her silk mask.
I leave her with the cool breeze caressing her skin after pecking those bee-stung lips.
I leave her sleeping and walk outside to the small sitting area that attaches to the large deck and pool area. That’s where I’ll wait for her. Where she’ll come to me.
Because I’m going to motherfucking devour my wife the second she steps a single foot past this threshold.
2
THERE’S A WARM yet calming breeze that caresses my skin, pulling me from a deep sleep. It’s soothing. Lulling me back to the comfort of my pillow, and yet, it’s the stillness of the room that stops me from giving in.
“When did we land?” I ask myself, pushing the soft bedsheet off my body before stretching my arms high, enjoying the quick release from my sore muscles after staying in one position for too long. The sun is high, and yet, I can’t see anything past the sleep mask I’d put on right before we took off for a much-needed vacation.
It’s my uncle’s birthday in a few days and we’ve been planning to relax as a family, Thiago’s and mine, in Cuba for a week instead of celebrating Valentine’s Day privately. And while I’m sure we’ll do something for our first as a married couple, maybe sneak away and explore the eastern side of the island that I’ve yet to visit, the current transitions occurring in their operation are more important at the moment. One of those things you sacrifice for the good of the De Leon name.
Uncle Edgar retiring from the MDPD and joining the De Leons as Thiago’s right hand the moment we return signals the start of a new era.
