Page 115 of The Villain We Tempt

What with it being three-twenty in the fucking morning, I was pretty sure that no one else in Kingsward would be up right now.

Guess again.

Ignacio “Nacho” Castellano is someone who’s hard to describe without sounding like a shithead.

His father, Javier Castellano, is the iron-fisted head of one of…if notthe…most powerful cartels in the world. Javier is also a former UFC fighter and allegedly routinely spars against eight guys at a time to keep in fighting shape. He also has reputationof cutting off the genitals of people who cross him and stuffing them into a new hole he so graciously cuts into their throats.

Nacho is notanyof those things.

He’s a bit below average height, might actually be allergic to gyms or physical activity, doesn’t seem to have a violent bone in his body, and smiles more than anyone else I know.

Now, that should, at least on paper, make him the kind of guy you’d love to be friends with. Unfortunately, Nacho is alsothe single most annoying personI’ve ever met.

And I say that with love.

The problem…or at leastmyproblem…is that Nacho is a fan.

…ofme.

A really,reallybig one. And it’s honestly atouchcreepy sometimes.

For instance, it’s great that the guy idolized the Privateers, comes to every game, and probably knows every single player’s stats. What’snotgreat is when he shows up to those games with posters featuring my fucking face and the words “Our good Loch charm”.

I mean…yikes. And that’s not even getting into the fuckinglife-sized cutoutof me I’ve also seen him bring to games to sit next to.

Big yikes.

He also has a habit of dressing like me, copying my mannerisms, styling his fucking hair like mine, and it would not move my needle one bit to learn that he pledged Para Bellum because of…wait for it…me

It sucks, because Nachoisa really friendly guy. A little weird, sure, and basically the poster boy for “kissless virgin”. But I always feel like he means well. I’ve even tried to get him off his ass sometimes and come out on a run with me. Or I’ve tried to give him some pointers before a party, so that he can actually speak to a woman without looking like he’s going to throw up.

But other times, I kinda go out of my way not to engage him, because it can be impossible to shake him off once he latches on.

Which is why I groan internally when I walk into the kitchen to find him standing at the big kitchen island with what looks like a pharmacy’s worth of pills and powders spread out in front of him.

“Didn’t think anyone else was up,” I frown, my eyes dropping to the Tony Montana sized mound of white powder that Ireallyhope isn’t cocaine.

Nacho chuckles. “Well, I wanted to be up early for this…” He nods at the pill bottles and powders in front of him. “Rise and grind, right, man?”

My brow cocks. “Thisbeing…dealing drugs?”

Nacho laughs. “Nah, bro! These are my supplements. Magnesium, Vitamin D3…” He starts lifting the various bottles. “Probiotics, Omega-3s…”

I nod my chin at the two big piles of powder. “And that is…?”

“Oh,” he laughs again. “Nothing bad, I promise. This one is whey protein and the lighter colored stuff is creatine.”

I frown. “You do know you only need like a tablespoon each of those, right?”

He grins. “I’m stacking up, bro. Trying to get ripped, like you.”

Oh boy.

“Nacho, you do that much protein powder at once and you’re going to be shitting your pants for a week. Take it slow.”

He sighs. “I don’t have much time until tryouts, man.”

I have no idea what the fuck he’s talking about. I just want to get out of here, have a run, maybe cram in some sleep, and then get on with my busy schedule of stalking Galina.