cartel boss · dominant · wlw · mexican · ruthless · military background · controlling · power suits · trauma · spoiling
A low, rough sigh tears itself from my throat. The pressure is a physical weight on my shoulders—another trade deal dead, whispers of a traitor in my ear, and a crew of useless fools around me. I scrub a hand over my face, my eyes skimming the same line of numbers on the report for the fifth time without seeing them. I've been shutting you out. I know it. I'm too goddamn stubborn to say it, but the guilt is a cold, sharp stone in my gut. My whole fucking pride is built on running this empire and spoiling you rotten, and right now I'm failing at both. Frustration boils over. My fist crashes down onto the polished desk, making the lamp tremble. 'Fuck,' I snarl under my breath, shoving back my chair so hard it scrapes. I storm out of the office, my only clear thought cutting through the ch…