“He’s not like the two of you—he’s nothing like the two of you.”

Roxanne’s vehement declaration stuck in her throat as her heart began to race. Her husband of nearly thirty years prowled toward her, his nostrils flaring, eyes narrowed. His black Armani suit was paired with a silver button-down shirt, setting off his black eyes. They were so dark that there appeared to be no differentiation between the pupil and the iris, only a cold promise of retribution if he was crossed.

Antonio Wayne Ramirez was a big man but didn’t move like one. His control of his body was absolute, enabling him to move effortlessly, smoothly. He dominated any environment he inhabited. His heart was as black as his eyes and Roxanne was the only woman who had access to it.

The horror stories she had heard of his sadistic interrogation sessions had done nothing to sway her love for him. She recalled the words he had spoken to her when they first met, the memory bringing a faint smile to her lips: “I… am your knight in dark, shining, and wickedly laden armor—armor with shards that cut into your deepest and most hidden wants and desires. I am the happily ever after in your twisted, tormented tale of your Cinder-fuckin-rella dreams.”

 

He had forced her to marry him after she and her best friend, Juanita, had scammed his brother out of a lot of money—recompense for their sins was the way the brothers viewed things. Antonio Wayne’s obsession with her had only grown through the years. The fear her sadistic husband created in her was an aphrodisiac she had come to depend on. He was the only man she had ever been with. She knew any other would pale in comparison.

Roxanne looked in the mirror from where she was seated in front of her vanity table, and locked eyes with him as he stood behind her. He slid a massive hand over her collar bone, slipped his finger into the diamond-encrusted O-ring on her platinum collar, and tugged gently. From there, his hand slipped around her neck, squeezing just enough to feel her jugular pulse beneath the pad of his thumb. He resisted – barely – the urge to press against the vein until her world went black.

“Would that be so bad,” he purred, “if he were like me?”

“Tony, you know what I mean--” She rarely called him Tony these days, only when she had something serious to say, and only when they were alone. She had called him Tony in their early days, but had naturally begun calling him by his given name after his namesake nephew was born, just to avoid confusion later on. In cartel, there was no room for confusion when it came to the underworld’s ‘Who’s Who’.

“You underestimate my nephew, wife of mine.” The possessiveness in his words did not go unnoticed; he never missed an opportunity to remind her that she belonged to only him. From the day he first saw her – a gift from his brother – he had been smitten. That mane of red hair and eyes that reminded him of the emerald green of a wild panther’s eyes suited her, hinting at the fiery temperament that had made her a successful cage fighter. She was still dedicated to working out and training, so she was well-equipped to fight any adversary that threatened the close bonds of Colombian cartel. She could sharp shoot like a pro and fistfight any enemy. Her only weakness was her husband, who lived for her and would kill for her.

Their love was a passion forged in fire and ice—her being the only one who could thaw his frozen heart and him being the only one who could calm the fire in her soul. They were both as fucked up as any two people could be, but their dysfunctional love worked for them and their sexual chemistry burned brighter than ever.

The Colombian cartel groupies knew to stay away from Antonio Wayne Ramirez. If they didn’t, they would suffer Roxanne’s wrath. She made no apologies for the madness she would dole out on any woman delusional enough to get near her man.

She was committed to all the men in her family and would do anything to protect them and all that Colombian cartel stood for. Though she had been in the lifestyle they shared for decades, time had only enhanced her beauty, wit, and womanly wiles.

Roxanne was stealthy and had every intention of finding out who the woman was that had captured her nephew’s heart. There had to be something special about her. She had never seen her nephew enamored with a woman. Sure, there had been one night stands, she kept up with the family gossip so she’d heard all about those, but never anything serious. It wouldn’t surprise her if the woman’s fate ended up being what hers had been: a marriage ceremony that was more of a command performance. The men in this family took what they wanted and she had yet to see any of them suffer remorse for their caveman ways.

Her husband’s voice pulled her from her thoughts.

“Sometimes a man has to be pushed into his true nature. The Ramirez blood runs through Tony’s veins. I have no doubt he’ll be successful in doing his job.” He leaned down and whispered silkily into his wife’s ear, “And if he can’t do the job, I will. I think we both know I would have no problem killing a woman.”

In an attempt to lighten his mood, she chuckled. “I think you may be overreacting. I’m certain the woman is not a risk to the cartel. She’s a dancer, not a CIA agent.”

“That’s where you and I differ. I don’t underestimate any of my enemies. One thing you are correct about is that she won’t be doing anything to hurt this family. I can assure you of that.”

Roxanne thought about asking him if she could talk to the woman herself and then decided against it. Better to not let him know what she was doing. It wouldn’t be the first time she did something against his wishes. She wanted to get a read on the woman and she didn’t want him there when she did. Better to have her best friend and partner in crime, Juanita, with her. Whatever Roxanne missed, Juanita would catch. Roxanne understood that a mother knew her child as no one else could and that Juanita would see clearer than anyone else whatever kind of spell the woman held over her son.

Antonio Wayne eyed her suspiciously, tugging the O-ring again and arching a brow. “Where are you going?”

“Nowhere, Sir,” she answered demurely, although her eyes were twinkling with mirth. “Can’t a girl put on makeup to ensure her Master’s eyes don’t wander?”

He slipped his hand inside her robe and traced his finger over a breast, trailing along her abdomen, until it landed between her legs. When she tried to press her knees together he scowled and pinched the tender skin of her inner thigh, twisting it until it brought tears to her eyes.

“Your pussy belongs to me. You know better than to deny me what is mine.” He slid a finger between her slick folds and skillfully manipulated her clit with his thumb. He used his other hand to pull her chin back as he held her gaze.

“Yes, Sir…” she whispered against his lips as he leaned in for a kiss that took her breath away. His tongue probed her mouth with deep, lush strokes that matched the tempo of his fingers.

She nipped at his tongue with her teeth, moaning as the flutter in her belly gave notice she was on the verge of climaxing. When he slipped two fingers inside her, it sent her flying over the edge.

As she shuddered through the waves of pleasure, he growled a warning in her ear. “Liar. You’re always up to something. It’s only a matter of time before I find out what it is. One thing’s for sure, I’ll never get bored with you. You stay in too much trouble for that to ever happen, and you enjoy the punishments too much.”

With a sharp bite to her earlobe, he straightened and strode from the room. She would worry about the punishment later. Right now, she needed to call her partner in crime.