Page 76 of Heart of a Villain

Not being attracted to her wasn’t what made her unlikeable. She was a woman in her late twenties. He was a man in his mid-forties. Yet, he wasn’t allowed to control her. Because of her father’s power, as long as Chefe was alive, she would be in control of him.

Chefe allowed him his vices.

Chefe understood that, once they were married, she would serve as his sexual outlet until something else called to him. Chefe himself proclaimed to have never been unfaithful, but if Chefe knew what he enjoyed doing to women, no one would ever pass him the torch.

While Alessandra’s “snack” order was being filled, he tried his brother once more. When the call failed to connect, he slammed the phone on the bar top. Rafael was supposed to be keeping an eye on Acoisa, but he hadn’t heard from his brother since the asshole told him he’d arrived in Sweden. It wasn’t exactly unlike Rafael to periodically ghost him and the organization, but it wasn’t acceptable, seeing as how Rafael was supposed to be watching his property.

Perhaps there was another reason Rafael was hiding. Perhaps he’d killed her. If that was the case, their mother was about to be down a son.

Chefe and Marcela entered the upper deck.

Marcela took her seat next to their daughter while Chefe made his way to the bar. Lorenzo ordered a draft beer, and Chefe slapped a hand on his shoulder.

“You know me well, Lorenzo,” he said.

A draft beer wasn’t knowing someone well, but he kept his thoughts to himself. Chefe was still in charge and would continue to be in charge until his death, regardless of who officially “sat” on the “throne.”

It was a shame.

It didn’t matter how much he wanted to kill them. The chief, his queen, and their daughter were untouchable. No one would betray Chefe for him, and although he was close to the family, it would never be close enough to end their lives.

“How are things going with Alessandra?” Chefe asked.

Lorenzo looked toward their seats. Alessandra waved, but all he could see was an image of Acoisa. The woman was the help, yet he couldn’t get her out of his head. There was something about the way her eyes had gone wide and that little gasp she’d made that day he killed those men behind her restaurant.

Fear.

So much fear.

He’d gotten so high on the Chamas hierarchy that almost no one feared him. If he gave them a reason to be afraid, like lambs, they readily accepted their fates. Acoisa had been like finding the one ripe fruit on a tree covered in rot.

When she saw him in her apartment, she didn’t drop to her knees and bow her head, waiting for the proverbial slice to her neck. As a still relatively new face in Brazil, she hadn’t been used to Chamas’ power and influence, so she’d believed that she could fight against it.

And, for a while, he let her.

But then, to prove to her that he would forever be in command, he’d made sure she could do nothing with those arms and legs. He’d made sure she could barely feel them.

And she’d begged.

Begged.

It had been so long since he’d had one beg.

Chefe had stopped him from taking another sample of her, and at first, it pissed him off. Then, he realized he should have been thanking the man. If he took and took, Acoisa would eventually stop fighting. He would drain the life out of her, and that wasn’t what he wanted. The next time he sampled her, he would use ties instead of needles. That way, he would be subduing a bucking bronco.

A long time ago, after his first gift, he’d understood why people owned people. It was a different kind of power, probably the closest a man could come to being God, and he planned to add more to his collection. But he wasn’t done with the last one.

“Lorenzo?”

He turned to Chefe. “Yes, sir?”

“Alessandra,” Chefe said. “How is it going?”

“Well. It’s going well. Alessandra is…precious.”

Chefe looked at his daughter and smiled in a way that signified how genuinely proud he was to have such an average child with below-average looks.

“Have you heard from your brother?”

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