🔥 How long can he hide this from Michael? And what game is Dominique really playing by declaring his love? 👉 Stay tuned for the next chapter.
Michael’s POV I never realized how much joy could fit into one empty apartment. Ashley was in the center of it all, laughing under her breath as though she couldn’t believe this space was hers. Her cheeks were flushed, her energy back, her body whole again. After everything she’d gone through, she looked almost new. “This is… mine?” she whispered, her voice still filled with disbelief. “It is,” I said, setting down the box in my arms with a grunt. Henry ran past me with a smaller box clutched to his chest. His sneakers squeaked against the wooden floor as he darted into what would be Ashley’s bedroom. “This one says ‘clothes’!” he announced like he had discovered treasure. “I’ll put it on the bed for you!” Ashley beamed at him. “Thank you, sweetheart.” Her gaze flicked back to me then, softening before it sharpened again. “I’ll pay you back, Michael,” she said firmly. “Every last cent, you know I don’t like this being… his money.” I shifted my weight. Of course she mea
Marlo’s POV I never thought betrayal could smell so thick that even the air refused to carry it away. But standing there, just a few feet from Fernando’s black car, I saw it happen with my own eyes. His lips pressed against Dominique’s lips, desperate, hungry, a kiss that lasted long enough for me to count my heartbeats. And if Michael knew he would burn the engagement, spit on the Ramirez family name, and possibily run with Henry, and Fernando, backed into a corner with no heir to secure the family’s future, would have no choice but to look at me, his loyal right hand. The thought entered into my mind. But then the kiss broke, and for a split second, Fernando’s dark eyes flicked in my direction. "Did he see me?" My body froze. I pressed myself into the shadow of the rundown building’s crumbling wall. Maybe he hadn’t, maybe his gaze was distracted, or maybe I was already dead and didn’t know it. I swallowed the fear, crushed it down and slipped into the building where the
Fernando’s POV I never liked wasting time, that’s why, when my men slowed their steps approaching the run-down building stinking of mold, piss, and smoke, I didn’t bother softening my stride. I cut ahead of them, shoulders squared, chin up, the click of my shoes echoing against the concrete. When I walked into a place, people needed to know right away who owned it. The gang house looked like it had been abandoned decades but I heard their laughter before I saw them, then some rap track sounding through busted speakers. Pathetic. Marlo’s hand was above my shoulder as if to remind me he was here. If he had it his way, I would have stayed home tonight, sipping good scotch with Michael, while he came out here to break bones and collect debts. That was Marlo’s style, dirty work handled cleanly, so my hands looked untouched. But I wasn’t Santiago, I didn’t sit in the backroom pulling strings. I liked being at the front, reminding people exactly why Fernando Ramirez was a name t
Michael’s POV I would have preferred to be anywhere else, even a jail cell, with nothing but silence for company, would have been easier to stomach. But instead, here I was, sitting in a plush armchair, a teacup in my hand, while across from me a woman in a green suit flipped through a binder fat enough to crush someone’s skull. She was the wedding planner. Her name was Chloe Valdez, and she had the energy of a woman who had long since stopped caring about sleep and lived instead on coffee, adrenaline, and the intoxicating prospect of making other people’s lives sparkle. She was young but carried herself well and her eyes practically glittered every time she turned a page. She adored this, every ribbon, every flower petal, every seating arrangement was life or death to her and I was supposed to care too. I didn’t, but I couldn’t afford not to sit here because every minute I endured this meant I was one step closer to what really mattered: getting Fernando to marry me, adopting
Fernando’s POV The light of the sun stretched long shadows across my study, painting the walls and the curtains with a glow that looked almost like fire. The desk before me was littered with crystal glasses, half-smoked cigars, and stacks of papers bearing numbers that should have consumed all of my attention. But I wasn’t thinking about numbers. I wasn’t thinking about the new drug we had begun circulating in my territories, though it was already proving to be more lucrative than anticipated. I wasn’t even thinking about the lesser gangs who had grown bold in their debts to me, daring to delay their payments as if my wrath were negotiable. No, my mind was somewhere else entirely, on Dominique. On the memory of his lips, hot, sudden, and desperate, pressing against mine in that suffocatingly tense meeting room earlier today. And on the words that followed, words I had not expected. It was a dangerous confession, a reckless one, and yet I hated that I had liked it. That part
Michael’s POV The tea cup rattled faintly against its saucer as I set it back down on the table. The morning sun was warm but not too much, the kind of late-summer light that softened everything it touched. I should have felt at peace here but my stomach churned, my fingers tightened, and the tea left a bitter aftertaste on my tongue. Because I could not shake the image of last night when Dominique had tried to kiss me and confessed his feelings. And then, like a fool, perhaps out of guilt or some broken sense of loyalty, I had told Fernando everything. Now I sat in the garden, staring into my tea, wondering if by opening my mouth I had signed Dominique’s death warrant. The sound of footsteps sounding over gravel pulled me out of the spiral in my mind. I looked up to see Emilio approaching. He carried a small stack of envelopes tied neatly with a rubber band. “Morning, Michael,” he said, his voice calm as always. “I stopped by Ashley’s apartment as you asked. These were in h