Kiss of the Cartel

"Lena, dance." I stiffen, not wanting to turn around, but having no choice. I know who is speaking, his curt voice, the timbre, the inflection and accent, unmistakable. I turn slowly, keeping Manuel on my right, still within my line of sight as I face Luis. The boss's son, a man who's made it clear that we are not friends, we're not even acquaintances. We're enemies. And in our world, the mafia world, an enemy in one's own camp is a very dangerous thing. His s****l appeal is undeniable. He's tall, broad, and darkly dangerous. His inky black hair is long, tied at the back of his neck in a ponytail that flows to midway down his back. His suit is fit to kill. Women that is. Dark, tailored, with a crisp white dress shirt and a black bowtie. Everything about him is proper. But I know better. He's a wolf in sheep's clothing, fitting in where he doesn't belong. A killer pretending to be civilized. I despise the zing that goes through my body as I study him. The way my heart beats overtime in fearful interest. He won't know though. I keep my gaze cool, assessing, impersonal. I keep my eyes lowered, my voice coolly professional when I say, "Are you asking me to dance?" "I wasn't asking." His voice is deep and the chill matches mine. I'm surprised that he would want to dance with me, though we are attending a charity ball and couples are whirling all around us. In the years we've spent living under the same roof, eating the same food, protecting the same man, he's never once willingly touched me. Not unless ordered. Luis is a bully. He never misses an opportunity to verbally stab at me, to test the boundaries of his relationship with his father's asset. Asking me to dance is just another opportunity for him to f**k with me. I'm about to say no, to tell him I don't dance, when Manuel turns from his conversation with a city developer and says, "Go dance, Lena. You rarely get to have fun on these outings, and nothing will happen to me in a room full of people." His voice is low so no one can hear except me and Luis. This is because only a handful of people know that I am Manuel's personal bodyguard. Most know me as his silent, much younger girlfriend. This cover has served us well, enabling me to remain at his side through most of his outings. His other bodyguards, big conspicuous men, are ever-present as well. But at events like this, where it becomes more difficult for the protection details to monitor their clients, I'm able to remain by his side. His secret weapon. The silent but deadly shadow that will strike before the enemy knows I'm even there. My existence in Manuel's life is the reason for Luis' hostility. He despises the idea of his father using a woman for a bodyguard. Luis is not as progressive as his father, he prefers the old ways. Bodyguards are big, burly men whose presence conveys a menacing threat to anyone who would dare mess with the family. Despite his annoyance at my position, I suspect he is also pissed off that I'm posing as his father's girlfriend. I see the way Luis' eyes linger over my curves, settle on my body almost unwillingly before he forces his gaze away. Brutal experience has taught me to know when a man lusts after me. Unfortunately, I also know when a man hates me. And Luis is a cauldron of both emotions whenever we inhabit a room together. Before I can speak, come up with an excuse to refuse the dance, Luis takes my arm in a firm grip and pulls me toward the dance floor. My instincts are screaming at me to fight him, to break his hold and rush back to Manuel's side, where I belong. I have been trained well. I must always keep my principal within sight unless I've been dismissed. Luis turns me to face him, one big hand wrapped intimately around my hip while the other takes my hand in an unbreakable hold. For one single moment the room ceases to exist. The couples, the music, the laughter, it all fades as Luis touches me. Our eyes lock and for this split second the ever-present rage falls away from him. It's just the two of us, our undeniable attraction sizzling between us. The unprecedented moment feels almost... life altering. Then his lip begins to curl in a familiar sneer, and I know that the next words out of his mouth will be daggers to my heart, meant to shred any feelings I might have harboured for him. This man has convinced me I'm a masochist, because I crave his words, whether they are barbed knives or a passing comment. Even though they slice deep, they are mine. "You clean up good, Lena." His deep voice holds the sharp edge of a dagger to it. "A fuckable little pet, attached to my father's arm." I don't reply. I have nothing to say to him. He is the boss's son and I must not disrespect him. Manuel is a mostly benevolent boss, but his goodwill ends when it comes to his son, his only remaining immediate family. The two men love each other as deeply as any father and son. They've set up a criminal empire together. And though Luis doesn't care for Manuel's choice of personal bodyguard, he does hold his father in the highest esteem. Insulting Luis to his face is the same as insulting Manuel. Bad for my health. "A wolf in sheep's clothing," he murmurs, his eyes hot on the bodice of my dress. I nearly laugh at the analogy he uses, the same as I was thinking of him a few minutes ago. I'm wearing a black dress, sleeveless and low cut, but my arms are covered with a long-sleeved jacket that obscures the holster strapped to the left side of my chest, under my arm. It holds my .45 Glock. The dress falls to my ankles but slits up my side almost to the top of my thigh should I need to reach my blade, tucked into a holster strapped to my right thigh. My long brown hair sits coiled on the top of my head like a crown to keep it out of my way should I be attacked. I wear diamonds in my ears, on my neck and on my fingers. The only incongruency to my ensemble that anyone might notice is the low pumps on my feet, instead of the sky-high heels worn by the women whirling all around me. Intended so I can run or kick if the need should arise. My outfit is meant to look sexy and sophisticated, but with a hidden functionality. Perfect for the woman who stands at Manuel's side posing as his girlfriend, protecting him as his bodyguard. A wolf in sheep's clothing indeed. Few would guess that I could kill them before they have time to wonder why Manuel's girlfriend has suddenly turned into a weapon wielding ninja. "Answer me when I speak to you." Luis' thin veneer of civilization is slipping. The rage he doesn't bother to conceal is coming to the fore. "What was the question?" I score a small victory with my calm voice and straight face. I haven't insulted him directly, yet we both know he wasn't asking me a question. He wants me to respond to his hate. He wants an opponent in me, not the doll who stands quietly with his father. I don't give him the satisfaction. I find more pleasure in stoking the flames of his rage by remaining silent than by fighting with him. It keeps distance between us, a necessary wall. I am wary of his intentions. A part of me knows that if the dam between us ever breaks we'll find ourselves in a deadly, heated struggle. One that would inevitably end in my death. Better to keep my feelings to myself. His hands tighten painfully on my hand and my waist. He tugs me closer and the breath whooshes out of me as the tips of my breasts graze his suit jacket. I've never been much of a dancer, but somehow the stress of standing this close to Luis, of being touched by him, takes away any sense of awkwardness. He bends his head to speak in my ear, projecting an intimate picture to anyone watching. "You going to f**k dear daddy when we get back home?" His breath is hot against the side of my face, his words pointed and sharp. "Can't blame an old man for coveting such a fine piece of ass. That's all you are, you know. A piece of ass with a gun." I jerk in his arms, not trying to get away exactly, but trying to put some distance between me and the poison he's directing at me. I long to defend myself, but I keep my icy composure, moving my legs and my feet with his. Following his lead, even as every cell in my body tells me to break contact and walk away. We finish the dance and the moment it's polite enough for me to do so, I pull myself from the warm contact of Luis's body and turn. When I glance back over my shoulder, his hate-filled eyes are following, a burning promise sending a shiver of apprehension shuddering through me. One of these days Luis is going to follow through on that promise. I just hope I survive whatever he wants me for.