Page 13 of Cartel Devil

Tía Elle observes me, and I want to squirm. She says nothing more, and it’s worse than if she drilled me with questions. It’s like she knows everything she could want to without asking a single question. Between being a mom to three adult sons and her past occupation as a Mafia fixer of sorts, she reads people better than most. I always feel like I’m in first grade, and she knows my darkest secrets about blaming my brothers when I forgot to memorize my sight words. She sees right through me.

“You spent most of the reception together. It looked like you hit it off.”

“I thought we had, Tío.”

Two sets of eyebrows shoot up. Only my tío’s are in surprise. My tía looks more like she wants to say, “I could’ve told you what would happen.” Makes me want to ask why she didn’t intervene if she knew Tre would hit it and quit it.

Maybe I should have accepted those cupcakes after all. I could do with something to sweeten my disposition after this conversation. Tío takes the hint I don’t want to discuss this further, and I don’t think Tía Elle will offer me any insights. We leave my tía to keep working before heading into my tío’s study.

“Is there anything I should know, Joaquin? Will Salvatore be bitching at me by dinner?”

“No. If anything, you should call Salvatore and defend my honor. She used me.”

I get a smirk in response. Lovely.

I had my laptop in the trunk of my car, so I grabbed it when I got here. I flip it open, and my tío and I spend the next two hours reviewing contracts for three projects. I feel better now that I’ve had some distractions. But I can’t linger here forever. I’m certain my tío and tía would prefer to enjoy the rest of their day together without interruption. They make time to be together, but it’s not like they get too many leisurely afternoons alone.

I head back to my place for a shower and a nap. However, I’m restless. I spend more time looking out my bedroom window than I do with my eyes closed. After half an hour of replaying last night at the reception over and over, I force myself to think about the coming week. I have plenty of work to keep me occupied since I was away for so long. I refuse to revisit what Tre and I did in the hotel suite, or I’ll need another shower—a freezing one. I doubt that would settle my cock. I’d just wind up rubbing one out—again.

I drift off for a nap while I plan this week’s meetings with site crews. Not only will I want build updates, I’ll also want reports from the various union reps. There have been some rumblings among the carpenters and bricklayers. On paper, we only hire union workers. But in reality, just like the other families, we pay under the table since sometimes these jobs need a little more than discretion when we have things that need to disappear from or at the other families’ sites.

I can’t get Tre off my mind.

Like it’s turning into more than a mild obsession. I took my tux to the dry cleaner the day after the wedding, and I caught a whiff of her perfume on my coat. I caught sight of her nail marks on my back two days after the event. That’s normally something I absolutely forbid, but I’d relished it at the time. Now the fading red lines are a sad reminder that she used me.

And feeling that way makes me pathetic. Why I fantasized for even a moment that our one-night stand might be more than that makes me delusional. She didn’t lead me on. I led myself on. But still…

“Mamá, I had a good time that night, but it was what it was.”

My mother’s giving me that look that says she knows I know I’m full of shit. She hasn’t directly asked me what went wrong, but she knows I’m disappointed. She likely believes I deserve it since I’m certain she thinks it’s my turn to feel this way.

It’s not like I’m some bastard who strings women along, but there have been women more into me than I was into them. But that comes with the territory when you’re a Diaz. I don’t have the luxury of bringing women into my inner circle for casual relationships. I can’t let anyone too close because there’s too much risk.

That’s why belonging to my BDSM club works so well for me. I can get off when I want. I can have a constructive outlet to my naturally controlling nature. I can pass the time when I’m not working or with my family. All the while, I don’t have to give anything more than the superficial. That’s what I can handle. That’s why these lingering feelings are so troublesome.

“Have you tried to talk to her?”

“How? She didn’t give me her number. Toria is on her honeymoon, so I can’t easily ask her. Do you want me to call Carmine and ask him to ask Serafina?”

My mother knows the answer to that question.

“Why didn’t you get it from her?”

My face is on fire.

“Mamá…”

The woman exasperates me at times. Especially when she shrugs, like she just did. It’s not like she believes I’m some cloistered virgin, but it doesn’t mean I want to admit that Tre and I got straight down to fucking, then the woman ran like her ass was on fire when we woke.

“Look her up online.”

“I’m not stalking her. If she wanted me to have her number, she would’ve given it to me.”

“Do you want me to look her up?”

“No!”

“I could stop by one of the bakeries.”