Prologue
Rio
The brunette's tongue traces the shell of my ear while the redhead's hand creeps dangerously high on my thigh, and I'm thinking this might be the perfect way to end a Tuesday night…until I spot my father cutting through the crowd.
‘Pinche.’
I don't move. I don't push the women away or sit up straighter like some guilty teenager caught with his hand in the cookie jar. I'm twenty-eight years old, and this is my club. Well, technically it belongs to the family, but I'm the one who runs it. I'm the one who turned this place from a mediocre money pit into the hottest spot in Phoenix.
Santiago Sanchez stops at the velvet rope separating the VIP section from the rest of the crowd. The bass pounds through the floor, vibrating up through the leather couch, but somehow my father's silence cuts through it all. He doesn't need to say a word and the rope is already being pulled back for him to enter.
"Ladies." His voice comes out smooth and controlled. "Leave us."
The brunette…Destiny? Destiny, I think, pouts her lips.
"But we were just getting to know…"
"Now."
That’s all it takes and they scatter, gathering their clutches and tottering away on heels way too high for their blood alcohol levels. I watch them go with a flicker of annoyance, then tip my glass toward my father.
"You know, a simple text would've worked. 'Hey, son, need to talk. Stop by the house.'"
He gives me an annoyed look as he lowers himself onto the couch across from me, unbuttoning his suit jacket with the precise movements of a man who's never rushed a day in his life.
"This couldn't wait for a text." He signals to one of the servers hovering nearby, and within seconds, there's a glass in his hand. "We need to discuss your future."
I snort, swirling the alcohol in my glass.
"My future's looking pretty good from where I'm sitting. Club's up fifteen percent this quarter. All our transports are running smoothly…"
"Marriage."
The word hits me like a bucket of ice water. I go still, every muscle in my body locking up even as I force my expression to remain neutral.
"What? I could have sworn you just used the M word and…"
"You heard me, Rio."
I set my glass down harder than necessary.
“I'm not getting married. We’ve discussed this before. I’m perfectly happy remaining single."
"You are." He says it the same way he might comment onthe weather. Matter-of-fact and inevitable. "There’s a deal with the Manitellie family. Good stock makes for good heirs."
"Good stock?" A harsh laugh tears from my throat. "What is this, a fucking horse auction?"
"Watch your tone."
"Watch my…" I lean forward, elbows on my knees, fighting to keep my voice level even as rage bubbles up from somewhere deep in my chest. "You can't be serious. This isn't the old country. We don't do arranged marriages anymore. That shit died with Abuelo."
"Your grandfather understood something you apparently don't," he says, something unreadable in his eyes. "Alliances aren't built on handshakes and good intentions. They're built on blood. On family. This family has ties both here and in Italy. A marriage would cement our partnership for generations."
"Then let Leo or Diego marry her."
"I cannot trust either of them with something like this. Their tastes are different."
“And mine aren’t?” I growl out and stand up.
