Page 38 of Descent into Madness
It’s an order and a promise. My heart pounds in my ears. What I want to say is on the tip of my tongue. The words are there, only they aren’t what comes out. “Then what’s a good place for us to be with the kids? Is there like a zoo or museum or something?”
He pulls me close as he runs eyes that miss nothing over me. “Get dressed. I’ll figure it out.”
With a buzz of happiness, I do as I’m ordered.
I’m not sure where we’re going, so I go with a lightweight silk wrap dress in a light pink and sandals. My long hair is too heavy to leave loose, so I do a quick French braid.
Downstairs, I’m ushered into a sit down of a quick breakfast. I’m wondering where everyone is as I finish.
I leave the dining room to find Ofelia and Luisa dressed in matching pink dresses. Elias is still napping, and I agree it’s better to leave him at home. Manuel is dressed in a dove gray suit cut to perfection. He’s so handsome, my breath catches.
We’re bundled into a SUV then driven down the mountain. “The girls hate the helicopter. They scream their heads off. It might be longer by car. However, the saving of a headache is worth it.” He apologizes as we begin the descent down the mountain.
“I’m good with driving down. Thank you for arranging this,” I rush to assure him.
An eyebrow goes up. “I’m going to want a thank you in a different way.”
Blushing, I check to see the little girls watching us through wary eyes. “Please behave in front of them,” I say in Spanish. “Daddy is being silly,” I tell them in English.
“Daddy is telling Mommy to be a good girl.” Manuel tugs me to him. “You’re going to be a good girl for me, aren’t you?” he growls in Spanish.
I bury my burning face in his neck at what the wordsgood girldoes to me. “Yes, if you stop being so dirty in front of small children.”
Throwing back his head, he laughs.
It isn’t fair. When he laughs, it does something crazy to every pulse point in my body.
Over the next few hours, Manuel laughs a lot, along with me and the girls. I would never think in a million years the man who ushers us through a small museum, is gentle with the small girls, and holds me close to him with every step doesn’t care about either the girls or me.
It’s so sweet, the way the girls respond to his attention. He admits he didn’t spend much time with them while Blanca was alive—or since she died. They stare up at him as if he were a god. I understand the feeling. And I’m right, the more he holds me close and talks to me as their mother, the more they accept me.
He guides us into an exclusive restaurant. “Will they take us with children?” I’m wondering if we shouldn’t grab something and eat in the car on the way home.
Manuel’s only answer is a chuckle. I don’t know why I asked, it’s a stupid question. Despite Manuel admitting he doesn’t spend much time in Medellin, I’ve noticed throughout the day, everyone seemed to know exactly who he is. While also pretending they didn’t see him until he acknowledged them. Then they immediately jumped to do as he asked.
It’s late enough in the day the restaurant isn’t busy. They advise they are cleaning the area they would like to seat us in, to please allow a few minutes. The annoyance is barely more than a flash across Manuel’s face. It still sends the host to the back to urge them to hurry.
“So, everyone in the city knows who you are? I thought we were going to be followed around by guards or something, and they would know that way.” I scan the restaurant curiously.
Another chuckle. “You are always under guard. I’m not allowing you out of the gates of our property without multiple people watching you.”
I look around. “Where?”
“Everywhere. You’re not supposed to see them. If you do, they’re not doing their job. We have almost a hundred men in every major city of Colombia and at least a handful in the smaller cities. Don’t even ask about how many we have in Europe, or in LA, Miami, Houston, and New York.” He shrugs.
“Hundreds?” The number boggles my mind. There’s maybe a hundred total soldiers and capos in Chicago. To have so many in multiple cities in the US as well stuns me.
An eyebrow lifts as his only answer.
Richer than god.
I find a woman studying me with angry eyes as she enters the restaurant behind us with a man who is either her father or her sugar daddy. I can’t miss the way she runs those eyes over Manuel. Ice shoots through me. I’m not sure how the hell I know she’s been with him, but it hits me square in the chest. Does the moan escape me? I feel Manuel’s eyes on me.
Ofelia is in my arms, her head resting on my shoulder. When the woman’s eyes run over me, Ofelia raises her head. Even the toddler senses the ill intent of the woman. Manuel is holding Luisa in his arms. Shifting her to one arm his other slides around my waist, pressing me close to him.
“How cute. A little mother. Now it makes perfect sense. When the role of a mother is needed, a man picks with his head not his cock,” the woman says in Spanish, not very quietly.
I sink into Manuel. He tightens his arm around me. “If a man were selecting a woman for the role of a mother, perhaps. In my case, I fell for a woman who makes my cock harder than any woman has before.”
