“Oh. She cut out around four in the morning, hurried to the elevator, but that’s all I know.” He sounds distracted, but given that he worked all night, it’s understandable.
“Okay.” I wave my hand to my throat to end the call and he does.
I call my brother’s number, but it goes straight to voicemail. Given that he’s been partying all night it’s probably dead.
That was another wasted call, and it pisses me off how useless he is. With my temper getting worse, I need to dismiss Cesar before I lose it. “I need to finish packing. See what you can find out from the staff at the bar. Be discreet. I’m going to call Martín. I want to have a talk with him and see if I can smooth things over before I leave.” He nods and then walks out.
I lock my door and then pull her panties out. I bring them to my face, breathing in the last hints of her scent which sadly is fading off the material. My dick jerks to life, and I’m tempted to whip out my cock and nut all over them like a lunatic, yet I hold back.
Fuck, I’m going insane. I should just forget about her, but I know I can’t. I screwed her all night without an ounce of protection between us, intentionally because she belonged to me from the second my eyes landed on her. She might not understand it, but she will.
Remembering my obligations, I call Martín, who picks up on the last ring. “Hold on, preciosa,” I hear him say away from the phone. “Diaz, I was wondering if you were alive.”
Violence fills my soul, and I’m ready to strike at the threat in his words. “What the fuck does that mean?”
“Those whores you had last night...”
I cut him off. “Watch your fucking mouth.”
“Oh, so it’s like that?” He chuckles like it’s hilarious that I’ve lost my soul to a prostitute. Son of a bitch, that word disgusts me, but it’s the damn truth.
“I don’t know what the fuck it’s like, but what are you talking about?” I bite off, fighting my own desire for Candy.
“Meet me back upstairs and I’ll explain. Don’t come up with that asshole brother of yours again or I’ll fucking kill him. Understood?”
“Why should I trust you?”
“Because I don’t have anything against you, Diaz. Your brother, I hate. There is no doubt in my mind that if I could bury him, I would. You, I have no fight with, but you’re going to want to see what I have to show you.”
“I’m on my way. No fucking games.”
“I promise you no games, just some food because I’m sure your ass needs it soon. I don’t need anyone dying on my property. That’s a business killer, and I have a family and reputation to think about.”
“What?” I question.
“Just get up here,” he repeats, sounding exasperated.
I make to leave the suite, stopping in the living room area. Cesar stand up from the sofa and I say, “Make sure we didn’t leave shit lying around. I’m going to meet with Martín.”
“You don’t want me to come up with you?” He fixes his dress shirt, and then grabs his suit jacket off the back of the sofa.
I shake my head lightly while fixing my cuffs. “Nah, I’m sure the bastard is on the level.”
“If you say so, Sebastian. I’ll take everything down to the vehicles. Call me when you’re ready and I’ll be waiting.”
“I can always count you, my good man.” I clap his shoulder before leaving the suite.
When I reach the presidential suite a few minutes later, I knock on the door and it opens with a greeting from one of his overgrown goons who make me look small, “Please come in.” This time, his men didn’t bother to search me on the way up or after I walk through the door. It catches me by surprise, but I suppose they have everything on lockdown here that there’s no need for concern.
“Ah—you don’t look like you’re dying. That’s good,” Martín says, stepping up to shake my hand. Everything about him screams friendly and yet he keeps implying my demise.
“What the hell are you talking about?” I snarl, wanting answers. I hate the fact that I’m clearly unaware of something extremely vital to my well-being and it has to do with last night’s activities.
“Come in and sit.” I take a seat on the sofa with my back facing the wall. He sits down on a plush chair. “So last night, I had my guys monitor where you and your brother went. When I finally spoke with them this morning, they informed me that you were busy with two women last night, but the girls left running from my hotel at different hours, so it’s a little concerning. Watching the surveillance footage from bar, I noticed something fucked up.”
“Something fucked up?” In walks Mrs. Martín with a tablet that she hands over to her husband.
He takes it from her, intentionally rubbing his hands over hers longer than necessary. “Gracias, mi vida.”