Page 27 of Devil's Bride

Fear dilated his pupils.

Sighing, I turned away, heading toward the door. “Finish him off.”

“Yes, sir,” one of the hitmen said.

Kruz shook his head, still watching the horror show unfolding.

Kruz followed me out of the room, both of us taking similar strides as we headed for the stairs.

“What do you want to do about Ms. Morales?”

I knew the question would eventually come up. “We wait at least for forty-eight hours. I need to see what she’s made of. That will tell me how best to handle her.”

“From what you told me, she’s tough.”

“Very tough. But you know what they say. The tougher they are, the more delicious they are to break.” I laughed, the sound hearty while I envisioned exactly how I’d bring the lovely woman to her knees with her mouth wide open, her lips wrapped around my cock.

“You’re such an asshole.” Kruz laughed.

Yes, I was. More so now than ever.

CHAPTER 9

Genevieve

“Make no mistake, Genevieve. You’ve crossed me. Not a good thing for you to do and I assure you that your punishment will be harsh. And very, very personal.”

His blanket statement promising both pain and pleasure lingered in my mind.

“Ugh.” I dropped my head into my hands, avoiding staring at the computer screen for a few moments. I’d been unable to make a selection and, in truth, was incensed that I could select a coffin online. What a ridiculous thing to be able to do. But it had to be done. I needed to finalize the arrangements in the next twenty-four hours.

How in God’s name was I supposed to end what was left of my father’s life in such a short amount of time? To me, he was still alive. I expected him to walk through the door at any time. I lifted my head in hopeful anticipation, as if I’d just been in a horrible dream I was unable to wake up from.

The door remained closed.

I’d demanded personal time without having a guard standing duty. If a sharpshooter wanted to hang in the tall trees fifty feet from the back of the house and take a shot, then he or she should just go for it. At this point, I didn’t care.

But I had to put on my big girl panties and make the decisions for his funeral and the subsequent lavish affair that always followed such horrible events. I had no clue how I would stomach having people I didn’t know inside my home pretending they’d given a damn about my father or my family. It felt pretentious and heartbreaking.

The knock on the door was honestly what I needed, a real distraction to keep my mind from swirling into hell.

Emiliano walked in. He was the only soldier who knew how to handle me. His eyes were filled with concern, but he’d never say a word in front of anyone else. It simply wasn’t done.

“What’s wrong?” I asked and sat back in my seat. Correction, my father’s chair. I’d always loved the Scandinavian design leather office chair he’d purchased at least fifteen years before. I’d even stolen away, coming into his office like a bad girl just to sit on the soft leather.

Plus, the room smelled like him and always had.

Now it was my chair. The thought almost brought another wave of uncontrollable sadness.

“The men are getting anxious. There’s word on the street of possible issues with shipments and they need to know what to do.”

“Who is supposedly preparing a hit on our property?”

He shook his head and I could tell he wasn’t happy about telling me.

So I made a calculated conjecture. “Jago Torres.”

“Yes, ma’am. Of course, the intel could be embellished.”

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