Page 2 of Cartel Devil

“Cabrón.” Asshole.

I say it with a smile since Mamá would wash my mouth out with soap if I meant it. I’d have to bend in half for her to reach, but she’d do it.

I push back my chair and inhale as I glance at my other brother who’s standing with Pablo. They’re both grinning at me, laughing at my discomfort. I brace myself for the small talk. I’m horrible at it. I come across as aloof and the cabrón. I just never know what to say.

“Would you like to dance?”

Please say no. Please say no. Please say no.

“I’d love to.”

I offer Patrizia my hand when she accepts my invitation. I lead her onto the dance floor, and she turns toward me. She rests her hand on my shoulder as mine goes to her waist. It’s crowded, so we stand close.

Please don’t get hard. Please don’t get hard. Please don’t get hard.

She smells divine, and it’s like my hands were made to hold her. She’s short-torsoed, so my hand can’t help but rest on her hip and her ribs. I have to peer down to look her in the eye, which means I have a view of those glorious tits.

“You’re very tall.”

I’m six-feet-four. She’s gotta be at least a foot shorter than me. What do I say to that? I can’t say, “you’re very short.”

“I ate my vegetables.”

Fucking hell, lame ass.

She chuckles, so maybe it wasn’t that bad.

“I did too, but it clearly didn’t do me any good. My pediatrician swore I’d be five-eight. Clearly, I am not.”

She laughs again, and my cock twitches. I twirl her away from me, but I’m careful that she doesn’t brush against me as she twirls back.

“Did you take lessons?”

“Far too many. Mamá required it.”

She sweeps her gaze over the other dancers, and I know her focus hops from one syndicate man to another. We all had to take ballroom dancing. She shoots me an understanding smile before she responds.

“Same for my brothers.”

“How many do you have?”

She hesitates, and I wonder why she doesn’t want to tell me. “One now.”

Oh.

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you.”

I don’t know if I should ask more. I don’t want to poke a wound that’ll never heal. I also don’t want to disregard something so important.

Fuck my life.

This is why I hate socializing and small talk.

“Do you want another drink?”

Thank the saints. She rescues me.