The mark of the devil.
Legacy.
I wonder what she’d think of her little boy, now? The one she died to protect. The one with the eyes she feared more than her own death.
El hijo del diablo.
“I may be the son of the devil, but you’d roll over in your grave if you knew what was about to happen, wouldn’t you, old man?” Tossing the picture across the desk, I picked up my glass again and toasted to the both of us. “See you in hell.”
“Papá!” After all this time, it still amazed me how one word could feel like both a burst of sunshine and a dagger to the chest.
Heart.
My glass quickly went back down as two toddler legs tore full speed through the slightly opened doorway. I barely had time to spin around in my chair before my determined son, Santiago, wrapped his arms around my legs, something red and sticky on his hands.
Something now trailing down my pants.
“Santi!” His nanny came barreling in wide-eyed after him, panic plastered across her face. “You know not to bother your father when he’s in his office!”
I held up my hand. “It’s fine, Luisa.” Without hesitation, I untangled myself from my son’s death grip and planted him in my lap. “Are you being a good boy, Santi?”
“Sí, papá!”
“Lo siento, Señor Carrera,” Luisa said, wringing her hands. “I’m sorry for the interruption. The cook made the children cupcakes, and Santi ran ahead of us, and…”
“So, am I to assume this is red icing I have adorning my pants?”
Her face blanched. “Oh, lo siento! Lo siento, Señor!”
I raised my hand again. “Enough. I said, it’s okay.”
She bounced from foot to foot, nodding like a barely held together bobblehead. It was only then that I saw a swish of long dark hair, followed by a pair of curious dark eyes peeking around from behind her ass.
Little Stella. My second-in-command’s six-year-old daughter. A Cortes female just as skittish in my presence as her mother.
“Hola, Stella.”
A small smile was all I got before she disappeared behind Luisa’s ass again.
Strange child.
“Santi, come,” Luisa demanded in that stern nanny voice. “We must get ready for our trip.”
“Noooo,” Santi whined, locking his hands around my neck. “Mi papá.”
I frowned. The trip. Another security measure I’d put in place. As much as Adriana wanted Santi and Stella to be part of the wedding, I decided it’d be safer to send them to my house in Monterrey. Every precaution had been taken to ensure our safety, but with the Colombians here and an impending meeting that could end in bullets as easily as a handshake, I wasn’t taking any chances.
“Go.” I motioned toward the now open doorway. “Rafael has the plane on standby. I’ll have one of the staff send Santi to you in a few minutes.”
“Of course, señor.” With a nod, she took Stella by the hand and left us alone, closing the door behind them.
Grinning, Santi climbed up on his knees, and placing a red-stained hand on either side of my face, squeezed the shit out of it.
And you know what I did? I fucking laughed.
I laughed so goddamn hard, my chest hurt, which only made him pinch even harder. I was one of the most hated and feared men in the world. Public enemy number one, and this toddler was twisting my cheeks like goddamn Play-Doh.
And I loved it.
I loved him.
My son. Something I thought I’d never have. Hell, I never thought I’d have a family at all. I expected to live alone, grow old alone, and die alone. But Eden came along and changed all that. She gave me a home, and then she gave me my son—my fucking heart, bleeding in my hands every damn day.
Settling him down, I clasped his hands and stared into his eyes. Dark brown and peppered with gold, a Carrera signature. “I’m doing this for your future, Santi,” I told him. “I’m building you an empire that will one day rule the world.”
Santi stared down at his red-stained hands tucked in mine. “Cookie?”
So fucking innocent. His hands were so small and innocent. Now. But no one outran their legacy, and one day they wouldn’t be stained with red icing. They’d be stained with blood.
Just like mine.
Exhaling hard, that sunshine from earlier burned a hole right through my heart, allowing the dagger to slice through what was left. I couldn’t change his fate. The only thing I could do was try to help him to understand it.
“We aren’t good men, Santi, but we’re as fair as descendants of the devil can be. No one in this world is innocent, son. Every single one of us is born with sin. As Carrera men, we punish the worst of the worst and let our fate determine itself. You are a Carrera, son. I build for you. I kill for you. I steal for you. And I will die for you. One day you will be El Muerte, and I only hope I leave you the legacy my father denied me.”
Kissing his forehead, I called for a staff member. Within ten minutes, my son was out of my arms and safely boarded on a private plane bound for Monterrey.
As I heard the engine roar, the dagger sliced even deeper.
I couldn’t get the image of his stained hands out of my head.
“Val?”
Shaking my head, I looked up to see the second most powerful man in Mexico standing in the doorway, wearing an expression I didn’t like.
In seconds, I was out of my chair. “What the hell happened? Mateo, is Eden all right? The baby…”
I swear, I’ll carve Dante Santiago into so many pieces he’ll return to his island in a goddamn envelope.
“Eden and the baby are fine,” he said, motioning for me to sit down. “This isn’t about her.”
A relief, but I didn’t take fucking orders, so I continued to stand, waiting for him to spit out whatever had him all twisted up.
Letting out a low curse, he closed the door behind him. “It’s about the meeting. Dante Santiago isn’t our only problem.”
Chapter Four
Valentin
I narrowed my eyes at Mateo, my voice escalating. “What the hell do you mean he’s not our only problem? Adriana is getting married in a few hours.”
“I realize that,” he said, making his way farther into the room.
“Do you also realize that Dante Santiago is about to drop out of the sky like a goddamn lightning bolt?”
“Of course, I—”
A full day’s worth of tension swelled within me, bubbling toward a surface held intact by sheer fucking will. Filling my lungs full of stale air, I gripped the edge of my desk with both hands, letting it out slowly. “In the last forty-eight hours, I’ve aligned with my biggest rival, agreed to share a port that fucker didn’t do a goddamn thing to earn, turned my sister’s wedding into a potential war zone, and lied to my wife about all of it. So, if you’re coming into my office with another problem, you’d better have already solved it.”
Mateo didn’t flinch. “No, but there’s someone outside who can.”
My grip tightened at his words. “Tell me you aren’t that stupid, Mateo. Tell me you haven’t involved someone in this without my approval.”