Page 21

Demi

F our weeks later.

I pressed my palm against the cold glass, my breath fogging the window as I gazed out at the sprawling expanse of Mexico City below.

The sun dipped behind the distant mountains, painting the sky in water colored hues of orange and pink that reminded me of the sunsets back home in Chicago.

But this wasn’t home. It was what I used to consider my gilded cage, my beautiful prison.

Four weeks. It’d been four weeks since Ozias kidnapped me from the private villa, whisking me away to his compound in Cabo.

Now, we were in his luxurious home on the outskirts of Mexico City because he’d killed the cartel leader and wanted to ensure my safety in case of any retaliation.

That, and to keep my father from finding me, I suspected.

What I didn’t expect was to feel a mix of emotions—conflicted, confused, and, dare I say, content.

The city lights began to twinkle as nightfall settled in, and a galaxy of stars spread out before me. It was breathtaking, really. So different from the harsh, concrete jungle of Chicago, yet just as alive and vibrant.

A throat cleared behind me, startling me from my thoughts. I didn’t need to turn around to know it was him. Ozias. His masculine presence and the scent of his familiar cologne filled the room, electric and intense. I could almost feel the heat radiating from his body, even from across the room.

“Enjoying the view, mi amor ?” he inquired. His voice was a rumble that sent shivers down my spine.

I dipped my chin, not trusting myself to speak. How could I explain that I wasn’t just admiring the cityscape but contemplating how my entire world had shifted in almost a month?

His footsteps approached, and I tensed instinctively.

But Ozias didn’t touch me. He came to stand beside me, his reflection appearing in the glass.

I studied him—the sharp line of his bearded jaw, the intensity in his dark eyes, the faded scar that cut across his neck.

He was handsome in a dangerous way, like a hunter poised to strike.

He had me mesmerized. I felt my heart beating out of my chest and through my clothes, and he’d only uttered a few words.

“It’s beautiful,” I finally said, gesturing to the panorama before us. “I’ve never seen anything quite like it.”

Ozias’s lips curved into a smile. “Mexico City has its charms. Very different from Chicago, no?”

I couldn’t help but chuckle. “You could say that. Although I suppose both cities have their fair share of danger and intrigue.”

“Ah, but here, the danger is more . . . exciting, wouldn’t you say? There’s more spice, more sex, and a hell of a lot more guns.” There was a glint in his eye that made my heart skip a beat.

I slowly turned to face him fully, crossing my arms over my chest. “Is that why you brought me here? For the spice and the sex?”

His expression darkened slightly. “You know exactly why I brought you here, Demi. It was necessary.”

“Necessary,” I repeated, tasting the word. “Necessary for your plans, you mean. For your power play against my father and the other cartels.”

He didn’t deny it. Instead, he reached out, his fingers grazing my cheek. I should’ve flinched or shied away, but I didn’t. His touch was gentle, almost reverent. “Yes, it was necessary. But that doesn’t mean I haven’t come to . . . appreciate your company.”

I scoffed, but there was no real venom in it. “Oh, I’m sure. Who wouldn’t appreciate having a hostage who didn’t cause too much trouble?”

“Is that what you think you are? A hostage?” Ozias questioned.

I met his gaze with defiance. “Isn’t that exactly what I am? You kidnapped me, Ozias. You took me from my family. Not to mention what else you took from me.”

“And yet, here you stand. Not bound, not locked away. Free to wander this house, to look out upon the city, to get the shit fucked out of you or that sweet pussy licked whenever you want,” he said, gesturing to the bulge behind his dress slacks.

“Tell me, Demi. If you truly felt like a hostage, why haven’t you tried to escape since we tied the knot? ”

His question threw me for a loop. Why hadn’t I tried to escape? The answer made my stomach knot up.

“I . . . I don’t know,” I whispered, turning back to the window. My reflection stared back at me, wide-eyed. Who is this woman I’ve become?

Ozias moved closer, his hard, tatted chest nearly touching my back. I felt his heat and smelled the spice of his cologne mixed with something uniquely him. “I think you do know, mi amor . I think you’re starting to realize that perhaps this isn’t such a terrible fate after all.”

I whirled around to face him, anger flaring. “Don’t presume to know what I’m thinking or feeling, Ozias. You may have taken me away from my home, and I may have handed over my pussy a time or two, but you’ll never take my mind.”

He chuckled, the familiar sound dark and rich. “There she is. There’s the fire that’s captivating mi corazón .”

His words ‘captivating my heart’ hung in the air between us, heavy and charged. I blinked, unsure if I heard him correctly. “I can’t believe you just said that. What, are you falling for me?”

His expression softened slightly. “This dance we’ve been doing these past few weeks has caused me to have feelings for you that stretch far beyond lust, and I think you have those same feelings for me.”

I shook my head, trying to clear it of the thoughts I’d been trying to suppress. Obviously, I’d been doing a poor job of hiding how badly I wanted him. But I was tired of pretending I didn’t want Ozias to come and break my back every waking minute. I could spend all day riding his sexy ass face.

I cleared my throat in an effort to dismiss my inappropriate thoughts. “I’d call it Stockholm Syndrome, maybe. Or just plain insanity.”

“Is it insanity to find a connection where you least expect it?” He inched a step closer, and I had to tilt my head up to maintain eye contact. “It must be so maddening to discover that the villain in your story isn’t as monstrous as you once assumed.”

His words echoed my own thoughts from earlier, and it unnerved me. “You’re still a criminal, Ozias. A cartel leader. A kidnapper.”

“And you’re the daughter of a mafia don,” he countered. “We’re both products of our worlds, Demi. But that doesn’t mean we can’t take what we learned and build something better.”

I laughed bitterly. “Build something better? What does that even mean? I’m here because you needed a bargaining chip against my father.”

Ozias’s hand came up to cup my face, his thumb tracing my lower lip.

I should’ve bit him or shoved him away. Instead, I found myself leaning into his gentle touch.

A part of me—a nagging, treacherous part—never wanted Ozias to stop touching me.

I melted every time he gave me a glimpse of his softer side.

There was something about his presence that made my racing thoughts stop.

“You were a means to an end, yes,” he admitted. “But you’ve become so much more than that. Can’t you feel that shit? Admit it.”

I closed my eyes, overwhelmed by the conflicting emotions warring within me.

Part of me wanted to scream, to fight, to demand he take me back to Chicago immediately.

But another part—a part that was growing stronger every day—wanted to stay right here, in the moment, with him.

I felt tethered to him in a way that surpassed a ball and chain.

“I don’t know what I feel anymore,” I confessed, my voice barely above a whisper. “Everything’s so confusing. You’ve turned my world upside down, O.”

His other hand came to rest on my waist, reeling me in closer. “I like it when you call me that.”

I sucked my teeth. “Whatever.”

“Seriously though. Perhaps it needed to be turned upside down. Maybe this is exactly where you’re meant to be.”

I opened my eyes, meeting his intense gaze. “And where is that, exactly? In the arms of my kidnapper husband? In a foreign country, cut off from everything and everyone I’ve ever known or loved?”

“In a place where you can finally be yourself,” he responded without hesitation. “Where you’re not bound by your father’s expectations or the rigid rules of your family’s world. Here, with me, you can be free.”

The irony of his words didn’t escape my attention. “Free? As your captive bride?”

He swung his head in a no. “Never as my captive. As my equal. My partner. My wife.”

I raised a questioning brow. “Partner? In what, exactly? Your criminal empire?”

His lips quirked into a smirk. “Why not? You have the intelligence, the craft. You understand this world better than most. Together, we could be fuckin’ unstoppable.”

The offer was tempting. I couldn’t deny that. To have real power, real work—something I’d never truly had under my father’s thumb and watchful eye. But could I trust Ozias? Hell, could I trust myself?

“And what if I say no?” I challenged, unable to douse the fire inside me. “What if I tell you I want to go home?”

His grip on my waist tightened slightly. “Is that truly what you want, Demi? To return to Chicago, to your father’s control? To be married off to the highest bidder for the sake of alliances and power?”

I cringed at the reminder of my father’s plans for me—to marry me off to the next highest bidder or killer. Ozias saw it, and his expression softened.

“I’m not holding you prisoner here. If you want to leave, I won’t stop you. But I’m asking you to stay. To give this—give us—a real chance. And I never ask people for anything.”

I searched his face, looking for any sign of deception. But all I saw was sincerity and something that looked dangerously close to love.

“I still don’t know if I can trust you,” I admitted.

He nodded. “I understand. Trust must be earned. But just know, if I didn’t give a fuck, I’d hold back a whole lot more from you, but I’m an open book with you, and that shit just doesn’t happen with me. Ever. It's not in my nature at all.”