Victor Ramirez settled back on the oversized leather sofa in his father’s study, turned his attention to the television screen on the opposite wall, and waited. Later he would be meeting with his father to discuss business, but the next few minutes of his day would be all about pleasure…his guilty pleasure.

As the opening credits faded to black, he tapped his fingers impatiently on the arm of the sofa and kept his eyes trained on the screen for his daily dose of Cuentos de Amor, and more specifically, its star Valentina Vargas. The telenovela originated out of Guatemala but was available in the U.S. through a syndication deal negotiated by his family’s media company. He couldn’t care less about the show’s plot, he just wanted to see her.

He couldn’t stop the low groan that escaped his lips when a close-up of her face appeared on the oversized television screen. She was stunning with ebony hair, a heart-shaped face, full lips and vivid blue eyes. The camera slowly panned out to capture her shoulders, upper arms, and the upper curve of a breast.

What the fuck?!

The show was opening with a shower scene. The camera angle was discreet, only hinting at her lush curves, but he knew he wasn’t the only male viewer getting a hard-on at the thought of her soaping up the parts of her body that were out of camera range. And who the fuck was holding the camera, anyway? The camera focused on her pretty little feet and slim calves as she dried off, then panned upward after she had wrapped the towel around her body.

“Woman, you are showing way too much fucking skin. And you’re all fuckin’…wet,” he muttered as he raked a hand through his hair and exhaled harshly. “What is Luis thinking? I’ll have to talk to that little fucker about this.”

A doorbell rang in the distance and the object of his obsession jerked her head up in surprise, a frown drawing her perfectly groomed brows together.

“Don’t you fucking answer that fucking door,” Victor slowly muttered under his breath, then rolled his eyes and cursed as she clutched the ends of the towel together and hurried to the door. The camera switched to a close-up of the door swinging open, revealing a tall, dark, handsome man in perhaps his mid-twenties. His eyes roamed hungrily over her body like a lion preparing to pounce on an unsuspecting gazelle.

“I could not stay away…” the man murmured as he stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

“I could not stay away,” Victor mimicked in a high-pitched whiney voice. “Fucker.”

“I apologize for not calling first, but I can see you’re ready for me.” The actor practically purred his line of dialogue as he stepped toward Valentina. He trailed a fingertip down her neck, along her collarbone and down to the edge of the towel where it was still clenched in her hand. He gave the towel a hard tug and the camera abruptly cut to a close-up of her face as she gasped in surprise, followed by a low-angle shot of the towel as it landed on the floor in a heap next to her bare feet and his designer shoes, standing only inches apart.

The scene ended with the camera focused on Valentina’s bare feet as she rose up onto her toes, then one shapely leg lifted slightly off the floor in the classic pose of a woman who was being passionately kissed.

“You. Motherfucker.” Victor’s voice was little more than a growl as the scene faded to black and a car insurance commercial came on.

“Still watching that telenovela, I see.” His brother Tony strolled in and sank into the recliner at the opposite end of the sofa. “And talking to yourself.”

“At least I have someone intelligent to talk to,” Victor shot back as he turned the television off and tossed the remote control on the side table. “You, on the other hand, have only yourself for conversation these days. What’s going on with you, anyway? We hardly see you, man.”

“I’m fine,” Tony replied stoically, his face an impassive mask. “Just a lot to get used to after being away.”

“Two tours of duty in that hellhole will do that to a man, I guess.”

“You got that right. You’ll be seeing more of me soon enough, though. I’ve let Dad know that I want in.”

Victor’s eyes widened at that. “No shit. The prodigal son wants to be a cartel man. I never thought I’d see the day.”

Tony leaned back a little deeper in the recliner and turned his head toward his brother. “Yeah,” he drawled, “I heard they needed somebody who could shoot straight.”

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck you more. So, what were you getting all worked up about when I came in, anyway? Did they kill off a character and now you’re just oh-so-sad?”

Some people likened shows like Cuentos de Amor to American soap operas but Victor knew better. There was an underlying sensuality to the Latin shows that put them in a class of their own. Having grown up in a multicultural home, Victor and Tony had been influenced by both their Colombian father Ricardo and their American mother Juanita. Their father had been passionate about teaching his sons the value of costumbres diferentes…

 

‘Different customs my son; learn to navigate the two different worlds and you will be successful in all your endeavors. There will be days when you feel like you have two men living inside of you and, in all truth, you do. Consider this for the bendición, the blessing that it is.

‘You will have opportunities, my son, opportunities that others don’t. You have insight into two cultures. As well as being bilingual, you will be bicultural, which is far more important, I think. This is a gift, my son, a gift from God and a gift from your mother and me.’

 

The words still rang true. Over the years Ricardo Ramirez had been intent on teaching his sons all they would need to know to live the life they’d been born into—the life of the Colombian cartel. However, Tony had enlisted instead and served overseas as way of testing himself away from the cartel, and he had succeeded even if he was a little worse for wear. Victor was pleased that his brother had returned to the fold.

“To answer your question, yes, I’m still watching Cuentos de Amor.” As if it would give credence to his reasoning, he added, “Telenovelas have a finite number of episodes. Why would I start something I have no intention of finishing, little brother?” Victor’s use of the term ‘little brother’ was laced with a love that came from years of watching over his fraternal twin.

The two men were as different as night and day, in not only temperament but looks too. Tony, named after his uncle Antonio Wayne, was quiet and easygoing, light skinned with hair that was either dark blonde or light brown. Opinions varied. He also had his mother’s clear, green eyes. Victor, on the other hand, had skin the color of creamed coffee, with hair and eyes as black as a raven’s wing. His temperament was every bit as intimidating as the man who had given him life—an ominous presence that ruled any room he entered.

Though born only moments before his sibling, Victor took the responsibility of being the big brother seriously. “And while we’re at it,” he added, “at least I don’t spend all my time on my fucking phone. Who are you always texting anyway?”

Tony’s phone vibrated next to him on the sofa and he glanced down at it with a grin before moving the phone to rest on his thigh. “Nobody you know, man.”

“Ah, a woman. If I don’t know her then she’s not one of us. What, are you fucking an outsider now?”

Tony’s jaw tightened and his neck became flushed. “Just a girl at The Club. One of the dancers.”

“You’re fucking a stripper – hell, a Club prostitute? Which one?” The Club was known to feature the most beautiful women in the country.

Aggression surged in Tony’s veins and he started to rise from his chair. “She’s not a prostitute!” As his brother raised his hands in surrender, Tony sat back down, grumbling, “And I’m not fucking her. It’s not like that. She’s not like that. She’s strictly a stage act.”

“Ah, I know the one you’re talking about. You’re diggin’ Foxy, then. Very nice.”

“Her name’s Caden and I’ll thank you to stop picturing her naked, asshole.” Tony’s phone vibrated again and he glanced down at it before picking it up and tapping out a quick reply.

“Wow, so you’ve moved beyond her stage name. What the fuck is going on with you?” When his question was greeted with stony silence, he shrugged. “Well, it’s good to see you taking an interest in something. You’ve been keeping to yourself too much ever since you came back. I know you saw some bad shit over there.” Again, nothing. “Nothing like a woman to get your engine revving, right?”

“Hmmph,” Tony grunted noncommittally. He wasn’t planning on discussing with anyone just yet the horrors he had encountered during two tours of duty or the details of his very private connection with Caden. Deflect, Tony, just deflect… “Yeah well, while we’re at it, Victor, I call bull to the shit. We both know why you’re watching that show—Valentina Vargas.”

Tony resisted the urge to continue busting his brother’s balls over the Latin beauty. Victor had a short fuse when it came to the woman who had him under her spell without even trying. No sense in tempting fate.

“Not for long,” Victor shot back. “If I have anything to say about it, soon she will be Valentina Ramirez. I’m just keeping an eye on her, protecting my investment.”

Victor did have a vested interest in the show’s wardrobe choices and storylines, at least as they related to Valentina. His interest in her was the result of a trip to Guatemala with his father a year or two earlier. It had been a research trip of sorts as his father had been considering a business venture there. During a tour of a production studio, Victor had been introduced to Valentina during a break in filming.

Upon returning home to the States, Ricardo had encouraged his son’s interest in the starlet and worked behind the scenes to make Victor a silent partner in her career. Her agent Luis took his orders from Victor and Valentina was none the wiser. He had given Luis rules to follow for her appearances on the show, including a modesty clause in her contract that for damn sure didn’t include her showering and traipsing around in a fucking towel on camera.

Telenovelas were notoriously sexy, but Valentina had made a name for herself by only hinting at her sultry sexuality without actually putting her body on full display. The other actresses on the show were often featured in bedroom scenes with their male co-stars, bodies tangled up together skin-on-skin, with sheets strategically arranged to barely cover nipples and genitals. But not Valentina. Her sexy scenes on the show always faded to black before much happened, and Victor intended keeping it that way. She was the woman every man wanted but could never quite have. He fully intended to be the man to change all that. But in the meantime, today she had shown way too much skin and gotten way too close to another man. He would be talking to Luis about that shit.

“What’ll you do if they have her getting hot and heavy with that guy she was playing tug-the-towel with?”

Victor could feel his blood beginning to boil, even though he knew his little brother was deliberately trying stir him up. He slowly turned his head and cut cold eyes at Tony. “Really? You sure you want to ask me that?”

“Oh, calm the fuck down, Victor. The woman doesn’t even know who you are. You met her once for a hot second, what, a couple years ago? Why don’t you put yourself out of your misery already? Have you talked to Dad and Uncle Antonio about bringing her over yet?”

“All in due time, my brother, all in due time.”

“Better not wait too long or one of those hot Latin heartthrobs might steal her.”

“They can’t give her what I can.”

“And what’s that?”

“A chance to cross over and become an international household name. A chance for fame—worldwide fame. And, of course…all this,” he said, grinning as he gestured to his powerfully built frame.

Tony rolled his eyes. “What makes you think she’s going to say yes to marrying you, for a chance at stardom?”

“Who said I had to ask? Have you forgotten what family you’re in?”

Tony could see the storm cloud passing over his brother’s face, an unspoken promise that he wouldn’t stop until he got what he wanted. He chuckled, “I hear you. So, you’re carrying on the proud family tradition of predator and prey, eh?”

“It’s in the blood,” Victor said with a shrug, his grim tone belying the casual gesture. “Like I said: telenovelas have a finite number of episodes. When there’s a conclusion to the serial…her journey with me will be just beginning.”

“Why do I get the feeling you’re not going to wait that long?”

“Ah, you know me too well, hermano. I’ve been hearing rumors about her agent and what I saw today adds credence to them. I need to do some discreet checking to make sure all is well with the future Mrs. Ramirez. It’s probably nothing. But if the little weasel is up to something, I’m going to need to move faster than I had planned.”