Page 20 of Beast

“I believe you know why I’m here,” he says, dark eyes boring into mine. “You’ve got something I want.”

I lean back in my chair, clasping my hands together. “And what might that be? I’ve got many things that people want.”

A muscle in his jaw ticks. “The land. The property you recently acquired in the heart of Mexico City. I want it.”

I chuckle humorlessly. “Ah yes, that little piece of real estate. Well, I hate to disappoint you, but it’s not for sale.”

Estrada leans forward, his gaze intense. “Everything has a price, Marques. Name yours.”

I study him for a long moment, weighing my options. The truth is, I’ve got no intention of selling that land to Estrada or anyone else. It’s a strategic acquisition, one that’ll give me even more power and influence in this city.

“I appreciate your offer,” I say smoothly, “but as I said, the property is not on the market. My plans for it are extensive.”

Estrada’s eyes narrow. “Plans? What kind of plans?”

I wave a dismissive hand. “Nothing that concerns you, I assure you. Now, if there’s nothing else...”

Standing, I signal the meeting is over. But Estrada remains seated, his posture tense.“I urge you to reconsider,” he says. “It would be in your best interest to cooperate with me on this.”

“Are you threatening me, Estrada? Because I promise you, that’s not a wise course of action.”

We stare at one another, the tension kicking up a notch. After a few moment, Estrada finally relents. He stands and adjusts his suit jacket before glaring at me. “This isn’t over,” he warns. “I’ll have that land, one way or another.”

With that, he turns and strides out of my office, slamming the door behind him. I sink back into my chair, rubbing a hand over my face.

While I support his attempt to get ride of Illeana Navarro, I won’t stand by if he proves to be a thorn in my side. Perhaps I underestimated the crime boss, but I’ve got no intention of backing down or bowing to his demands. That land is mine, and I’ll do whatever it takes to keep it that way.

8

BLAKE

Pacing Gaston’s apartment, I’m going to lose my mind if I don’t get out of here soon. He refuses to allow me out of the penthouse, stating I’m not trustworthy enough yet.

But how the fuck do I earn his trust when he hasn’t even touched me since we got here?

I thought he was going to fuck me, but every night I’ve slept in his bed and not once has he tried anything. The ding of the elevator arriving warns me he’s home and I quickly stop pacing and dive onto the sofa.

He marches into the living room looking frustrated as he yanks his tie off and chucks it down on the back of the sofa. It takes him a moment to notice me, but when he does some of that tension eases.

“Hey, beautiful,” he murmurs, moving toward me and kissing my cheek softly. “What’s for dinner?”

I can’t deny that this entire setup is weird. He treats me like I’m his girlfriend or wife. “I had a stab at tacos. Hopefully they’ll be more edible than the lasagna.”

I wasn’t lying when I told him I’m a terrible cook. I am. But I’m trying to learn. The fact is without my meds, I find it very hard to focus on anything, but telling him about my condition would give him power I don’t want him to have.

His chuckle is low and sexy. “If it’s not, we’ll order pizza.”

Pizza sounds good. Really fucking good actually. I cross my fingers and hope my attempt at tacos tastes as bad as I think it will.

“You look tense,” I comment, following him into the kitchen. He’s rolling up his shirt sleeves, exposing his tattooed, muscular forearms.

He glances at me, lips twitching. “Work was...trying.”

“Oh?” I raise my brows. “Anything I can help with?”

He laughs then, a deep rumble that echoes around the kitchen. “Not unless you’re suddenly an expert in land development.”

I hop onto the counter, watching as he opens the oven and pulls out the tray of tacos. The smell that wafts free isn’t promising. “Sorry, I think I’ll stick to terrible cooking and being a pain in your ass.”

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