Page 13 of Cartel Rose (Jorge)

Especially not when they serve the dish with potatoes.

“Thespaetzle.” I love the micro-dumplings here and the braised beef that goes with them.

“Jorge’sWeiner schnitzellooked good too.”

For the love of all that’s holy. The universe is fucking perverted and cruel.

I only know the slang meaning for wiener because of my time in the U.S. for grad school. Bastian probably doesn’t since he went to university and med school in Berlin. I don’t need anymore reasons to think about Jorge’s cock. Certainly not when his mother is sitting practically elbow-to-elbow with me.

Thank heavens for small mercies when Jorge and Luciana finish their dinner halfway through Bastian’s and mine. They say goodnight and leave. I was so aware of Jorge I practically ignored Bastian all evening. I feel like a bitch.

We’ve been together for two years, so he’s used to nights when I’m too tired to hold up my end of the conversation. I know he thinks that’s what’s happening right now. If only it were. My mind is plenty awake. It’s jumping all over the place from the impending contracts to Jorge’s appearance and voice. Then it hops from my father breathing down my neck to worrying about what Enrique Diaz will do if the investment falls through after all this shit. I dread facing one of the world’s most powerful men. Jorge is already intimidating. I don’t want to imagine what his uncles are like.

“Are you ready to head home?”

Bastian helps me with my coat as I twist to look over my shoulder. His face is so familiar, and it still melts my heart when he smiles at me. I turn toward him and slide my arms around his waist.

“I love you.” I practically blurted that.

“I love you too. Ready?”

I nod and let go. I face the door, but not before I take one last look at Jorge’s empty chair. I picture his smirk when I realized he wasn’t on a date like I am.

Our weekly date night. Something you could set your Bavarian clock by.

Cuckoo.

It’s time I pulled my head out of my ass.

Bastian wraps his arm around my waist as we head to his car. I used our company car service to get here because I knew I was going home with Bastian.

Easygoing, reliable…predictable Bastian.

He’s loyal—like a spaniel.

Jorge…

He’s a fucking Rottweiler. Handsome to look at but ready to tear you apart.

Chapter Four

Jorge

“That was a lovely—and unexpected—meal you treated me to, especially since youloathegoing to crowded restaurants where you know people.”

My mother glances at me nonchalantly as she slides into the town car. I grimace as I walk around to the other side. I make sure my expression is relaxed once again before I get in.

“What are the odds you and your broker should choose the same restaurant when it’s such an out-of-the-way place?”

“Her boyfriend may have picked it. I know you’ve always liked it. You reminded me about it before I came on this trip. It’s a lucky coincidence I’m back here in Frankfurt, and you had to be here for your own meeting.”

My mother is a corporate real estate shark. Like a great white with fangs, not teeth. She hadn’t planned to be here, butTíoEnrique asked her to visit an office complex that’s just been built. It went way over budget, and the owner is about to lose the property.Mamáis here to assess whether it would make a good headquarters once we acquire both companies I’m here for and add a second biotech lab to the holdings.

We’ll pay the overage the current owner can’t afford, which is still less than the amount he’s already paid. We’ll get it at a relative steal since the guy can’t take another foreclosure after he’s already had two businesses fail in the past three years. He claimsMamáis here to strong arm him. She told him she’s offering a gift, and that he’d be rude to refuse it.

“It’s a lucky coincidenceyoupicked the same restaurant.”

“I suppose so.”