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Chapter One

Luciana

My brothers might be the ones always looking over their shoulders for the gun pointing at them, but they aren’t the only ones with a sixth sense for when they’re being watched. I grew up in the Cartel just like them.

I sweep my gaze around the cafe, trying to be inconspicuous as I search for the person watching me.

I shift in my seat to see farther to my right.

My father and brothers drilled it into my sister and me as children to never sit with our backs to a window or door.

I’m angled with my back to the wall, so I can see the door and the windows.

However, the three tables to my right aren’t within my direct line of sight.

I shift in my chair as I reach back into my purse for my phone.

It gives me an excuse to glance in that direction before appearing to look in my bag.

I could fish around in it and easily find my phone since I carry very little with me.

Another lesson learned as a child, except my mother taught me that.

The fewer identifiable things I keep in it, the harder it would be for someone to know I’m the jefe de jefes’ daughter and the less a captor could use against me.

I spy a man—the single most attractive man I’ve ever seen—working at a computer. Our gazes meet, but I’m quick to look away as though I didn’t register him. But I did.

?Hostia puta! Holy fuck.

He’s hot. Like insanely hot.

I’m certain he was the one watching me. I don’t know why, and that makes me nervous.

I want to be flattered, but someone that attractive doesn’t notice someone like me unless he knows who my family is.

I mean, I do okay, but I’m not model level pretty.

He and I aren’t in the same league. We’re not even playing the same sport.

I shouldn’t even be contemplating whether any man finds me attractive, and I’m reminded of that as I notice my engagement ring.

Some days it feels like a vise around my finger.

After the conversation I just had with Domingo, it’s feeling exceptionally tight.

The thought turns my stomach over, and I feel clammy.

I glance at the clock on my phone before tilting my head toward the restroom.

My guard knows I’m safe going alone since the family who owns this place is Cartel.

They’d never let anything happen to me. I don’t even worry about losing the table when I get up, but I’m not foolish enough to leave my purse behind to save it.

I head down the hallway and around the corner before ducking into the restroom.

I take a few deep breaths before putting a wet paper towel across the back of my neck.

It’s fucking hot as hell outside, but it’s air conditioned in here.

I can’t blame the weather for the heat that feels like it’s emanating from me. I close my eyes and inhale.

Buck up, buttercup.

I learned that in the States while I was in college. Bizarre phrase, but it fits.

I’m unprepared for the strange man waiting outside the door. I nearly slam into him. I take a step back and bump into the door. I’m ready to reach back and duck inside, but his gaze pins me in place.

“ Hola .”

“Who are you?” Maybe I could be politer.

“You don’t know?” Maybe he could be less smug.

“Should I?” It’s my turn to cock an eyebrow with arrogance.

“Do you answer every question with a question?”

“Do you always do the same?”

I shouldn’t be back here alone. I shouldn’t be talking to a stranger. I shouldn’t be so intrigued. I shouldn’t be a lot of things—like stupid enough to stay where I am when anyone could walk around the corner and see us talking.

“I’m Esteban, and you’re Luciana Diaz.”

“How do you know who I am?” Intrigue just skyrocketed to fear.

“Do you really believe there’s anyone in Bogotá who doesn’t know you’re the jefe de jefes’ daughter? That your brother is el tigre ? That your other brother is el secretariat ? Your family isn’t exactly low profile.”

That might be true, but those are the very reasons no one discusses who my family is with me. He’s got some serious huevos —balls—or a death wish to do it.

“If you already know so much about me, then why ask?”

“I wanted you to tell me on your own.”

Smug bastard. He could have made that sound sweet, but he didn’t. It was more like he wanted me to do what he wanted.

“You didn’t give me your last name, but you already know mine.”

“Cardenas.”

Puta de madre . Motherfucker. I’ve heard of him.

“As in my tío’s henchman?”

He’s still deliciously handsome. However, anyone connected to Tío Humberto is immediately suspect and not someone I want anywhere near me.

“I work for your tío .”

“You struck up the conversation with me, and now you’re evasive. I’m bored.”

I make to step around him, but he shifts to block me. Knowing what I do now, I should be afraid. More fool am I for not being scared. He isn’t intimidating me, and for a moment he appeared to regret being connected to that pedazo de mierda . Piece of shit.

“Don’t walk away.”

His tone is softer, but there’s a command to it.

If he were anyone else, it would be a major turn on.

But I can’t afford anyone to see me talking to him, and I don’t believe he wouldn’t tell my tío every single thing I say.

I don’t believe he wouldn’t tell my tío how many times I breathed in this conversation.

My guard will go ape shit if he discovers me talking to my tío’s henchman.

I know what I’ve heard is a fraction of what this man’s done as an enforcer.

“Then say something interesting because right now I want nothing to do with any man who works for my tío . You’re untrustworthy, so there’s little you can say that I want to hear.”

“I think there’s plenty you’d want to hear, chiquita .”

The way he says that last word. Little girl.

I force myself not to breathe heavier. I refuse to soften how my gaze hardened the moment I recognized his name.

I want to ignore how my pussy aches and how much my body wants to know what he feels like pressed against mine.

I shouldn’t be attracted to him, but I am, and I hate myself a little for it.

“I doubt that, viejo .”

He leans to whisper in my ear, and I struggle not to shiver.

“I’m not that much older than you, but I’m definitely more of a man than the little prick you sat with earlier.”

He straightens, and I lift my chin as defiantly as I can muster. I try to look down my nose at him even though he’s so much taller than me. Like a foot, easily.

“Move.”

He grins at my attempt to command him. He steps aside and winks.

The fucker winks! I turn away from him and walk back to my table as though I didn’t just have one of the most disturbing conversations of my life.

I sink into my seat and try to remember that other people can see me now.

Men have threatened and held me at gunpoint and knifepoint before.

I’ve defended myself with violence more than once.

That was still one of the most nerve-wracking experiences I’ve ever had.

“Hey.”

I smile at my sister as she greets me and slips into her seat.

“Were you waiting long? Matáis didn’t want to say goodbye.”

Catalina waggles her eyebrows at me, and I fight the urge to roll my eyes. She and her fiancé are nauseatingly sweet.

“You’ll see him in like an hour when he comes over for dinner.”

She shrugs unrepentantly and grins. They’ve been together for three years, and they still can’t get enough of each other.

They met through our brothers, Enrique and Luis, when she was home for the summer between junior and senior year of college.

Turns out they were both in Boston for university, which made dating convenient.

Catalina was at MIT while Matáis went to Harvard. They’ve been inseparable ever since.

“You’ll see Domingo for dinner, too.”

We stare at each other, and we both know only one of us is excited to see her fiancé. Papá knows there isn’t a chance in hell Catalina would give up Matáis to marry someone he chose. Matáis would annihilate any man foolish enough to look the wrong way in my sister’s direction.

So that leaves me. I’m the one making the political match for my family’s sake.

Matáis’s family is already allied with mine, but Domingo’s won’t be until the ink is dry on the marriage certificate.

My ring felt tighter than ever because he was pushing me to set a wedding date today.

We’ve been engaged for a year, and college gave me an excuse for delaying.

But I graduated last month and have moved back to Bogotá.

Papá ’ s breathing down my neck too. He won’t drag me down the aisle, but he’s giving me some hard shoves.

I’m doing everything I can to dig my heels in and go nowhere.

“Did you have another argument with Domingo?”

“No, but only because we’re in public. That’s why I met him here. I knew he wouldn’t cause a scene.”

Our family runs Colombia. Not like runs the government as elected officials but runs the government because we have more money than the Vatican.

Our father controls every import and export the country has.

Nothing comes in or out of a port in this country without him agreeing.

Domingo’s family were rivals with mine before papá inherited his position fifteen years ago.

They’ve tried to assert themselves a few times, and both sides have lost good men because of it.

Papá ’ s trying to create peace, and the only way Domingo’s father would agree was for Domingo to marry me.