Page 7

For a moment, I wondered who the hell he was. Some elite local getting his kicks from watching a few tourists from Chicago’s underbelly? Or perhaps a business official traveling for work, amused by what he assumed was a lover’s quarrel?

I pushed the thought aside, refocusing on Reed. “So, here’s how this is going to work,” I said, my tone dripping with ice. “You’re going to honor our original agreement. No changes, no additional demands. In return, we’ll continue to keep your dirty little secrets . . . well, secret.”

Benjamin’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “You’re just like your father,” he muttered.

I felt a surge of pride at his words, even as I maintained my calm exterior. “I’ll take that as a compliment, Benjamin. Do we have an understanding?”

He nodded, defeated. “Yes, Miss Malone. The original terms stand . . . for now .”

I cut an icy glare at him. “Forever.”

As I wrapped up the meeting, laying out the specifics of our continued arrangement, I couldn’t help but feel a rush of satisfaction. I’d done it. I’d proven that I was more than just a golden bargaining chip in my father’s games. I had my own power behind my name.

Yet, even as I basked in my victory, I couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. The man across the restaurant was still there, his dark eyes following my every move. There was something about him that set my nerves on edge, a dangerous aura that both thrilled and unnerved me.

Who is he? And why won’t he stop looking at me?

Our eyes locked in a brief moment, and an unexpected shiver ran down my spine. There was something in his gaze—a mix of amusement and intensity—that made my breath catch. I quickly looked away, focusing back on Benjamin.

“Remember, you don’t want to get on the wrong side of the Malone family. There will be hell to pay if you even think about double-crossing us.”

He nodded, his expression worn. “I understand, Miss Malone. You have my word,” he answered as he stood to leave.

Once he was gone, I allowed myself to relax slightly, savoring the victory. I signaled the waiter to bring me a glass of their finest tequila and pulled out my phone, typing a brief text to my father.

Me: Handled.

The reply came almost instantly:

Daddy: Good.

I stared at the screen, feeling a familiar mix of frustration and disappointment. Would it kill him to show a little pride? To acknowledge that I’d done well? To thank me for not fumbling the bag?

“What did you expect, Demi?” I muttered to myself before taking a sip of my drink. “A pat on the head and a ‘good job, sweetheart’?”

I forced myself to push aside the hurt. This was how it’d been with my father for as long as I could remember.

He always said if you can’t be smart, be pretty.

If you can’t be pretty, be silent. Praise was for the weak, and Malones were anything but weak.

Instead, I focused on ordering and savoring each bite of the perfectly cooked, medium well steak.

I’d earned this, after all. The men could have their guns and fists.

I’d proven that a sharp mind and sharper tongue could be just as deadly as a beautiful, dimpled smile.

As I ate, I couldn’t help but steal glances at the mysterious man.

He was still watching, still smirking. Part of me wanted to march over there and demand to know what his problem was.

But another part, a part I wasn’t entirely comfortable with, was intrigued.

There was something about him that called to the wilder side of me, the side that craved danger and excitement.

I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts. I’m here on business right now, not to get distracted by some stranger.

I took another bite of my steak, but the flavor had suddenly lost its appeal. Something was off. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being watched more intently now. I glanced up, my eyes immediately drawn to the mysterious man.

He was still there, but his smirk had morphed into something darker, more predatory. What I initially mistook for flirtation now sent a chill down my spine. My gaze darted to the restaurant bar, searching for the comforting presence of my cousin.

But Dominic wasn’t there.

My heart rate quickened. “Shit,” I muttered under my breath, gripping my fork tightly. Where the hell is he? Dominic never leaves his post unless . . .

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to appear calm, even as my mind raced with a million negative thoughts.

This could be nothing. Maybe Dominic just stepped away for a moment to use the restroom.

But the nagging voice in the back of my head whispered that something was very, very wrong.

With trembling fingers, I pulled out my phone and typed a quick message to Dominic.

Me: Where are you? Some guy is staring me down.

I hit send and waited, my eyes flicking between the screen and the mysterious man. He was still watching, his dark eyes never leaving me. The seconds ticked by, feeling like hours.

No response from Dominic.

“Come on, come on,” I whispered, willing my phone to buzz with a reply. This isn’t like me. I’m Demi Malone, for God’s sake. I didn’t get rattled easily. I was the one who did the rattling.

But something about the situation had me on edge. Maybe it was the way the man’s gaze seemed to strip away my defenses or the unusual absence of Dominic. Whatever it was, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was in danger.

I took a deep breath, trying to center myself. “Get it together, Demi,” I muttered. “You’ve handled worse than this.”

But even as I said the words, I wasn’t sure I believed them. Because for the first time in a long time, I felt truly vulnerable. And in my world, vulnerability could be a death sentence.

The waiter approached, his crisp white shirt and black bowtie a stark contrast to the turmoil churning inside me. “Is everything to your satisfaction, Miss?” he asked politely.

I conceded a smile while willing my hand not to shake as I reached for my clutch. “Yes, thank you. I’ll take the check now, please.”

As I slid my black American Express card from its leather sheath, I couldn’t help but think how absurd this was. Here I was, daughter of Cyrus Malone, capable of bringing a corrupt official to his knees on foreign soil, and I was unnerved by a random stranger’s stare.

What the hell is going on with me?

The waiter returned with the receipt, and I signed with a flourish that contradicted my inner turmoil. “Have a pleasant evening, Miss,” he acknowledged, but his words barely registered.

I stood, smoothing my dress, and made my way to the elevator. Each step felt heavier than the last as if my body knew something my mind hadn’t fully grasped yet. I pressed the phone to my ear, anxiously awaiting to hear Dominic’s voice on the other end, but nothing happened. No one answered.

The elevator doors parted with a soft ding, and I stepped inside, my heart pounding. Just as the doors began to close, a hand shot out, stopping them.

It was him .

The man who’d been watching me all evening. Fuck.

He stepped in, wearing all black from head to toe and smelling like palo santo with a devilish smirk playing on his lips. His sandy brown skin seemed to glow under the elevator’s LED lights as the doors closed, trapping us together in the small space.

“Going down?” he asked, his voice low and smooth with a hint of an accent.

I straightened my spine, channeling every ounce of Malone steel into my response, yet “Mm-hmm,” was all I managed to mumble.

He chuckled, the sound sending a chill down my spine.

That was when I noticed it—a flash of gold as he smiled.

A gold grill covered the bottom row of his teeth.

My eyes darted to his exposed forearm as he reached out to jab the button for the lobby, and I felt the blood drain from my face.

There, inked into his warm brown skin, was a tattoo with the words “ Loyalty above all ” and a barbed wire crown above the L.

Cartel.

The realization hit me like a punch to the stomach. I parted my lips to speak, to scream, to call out for help—I wasn’t even sure what. But before I could utter a sound, the elevator doors dinged and reopened on the same floor.

My heart somersaulted in my chest when I saw Dominic standing there with a brooding look on his face.

“Where the fuck have you been, Demi? I’ve been looking all over for you!” he barked.

“Me? I called and texted you! Where were you?”

“I stepped out to take a call. You good?” he inquired, staring the man up and down as he stepped inside the metal box with us.

I eased out a sigh of relief before quickly jabbing the button so the doors would close again. “Yeah. I’m good now.”

The elevator lurched before it finally started to descend.

As much as I hadn’t wanted Dominic to accompany me to Mexico, I sure as hell felt safer with him here.

A part of me felt childish for being so jumpy in the elevator with the man from the restaurant, especially since he didn’t bother to utter another word to me once Dominic appeared and stood between us.

Ding.

The elevator doors opened, and the man proceeded to step out and disappear, leaving only Dominic and me standing there. “Who’d you have a call with? Was it my father?” I inquired.

He dipped his chin. “Yeah.”

My brows knitted together in an unsatisfactory frown. “What did he say?”

“Just checking in. He wanted to know how things went.”

“But I texted him and told him everything was good with Councilman Reed, and he responded,” I explained, tilting my head to the side.

Dominic shrugged his broad shoulders. “I told him we didn’t have any issues. I was keeping my eye on that mothafucka from the bar, though.”