Page 3 of Blood Diamond
I fake pout, though internally, I can’t deny his assessment stings a little. Pedro is honest to a fault, and I know he means every word. “Am I not pretty enough, oh master?”
“No.” He crosses over to me and captures my chin against his palm. With a sigh, he angles my face to better view my profile. Again, he clucks his tongue. “You aren’t cunning enough. You’re too desperate. I can see it all over you. A man like Jaguar gets drunk off desperation. He overdoses on it every damn day. I’m sure that whenever he walks into the club, scores of women throw themselves at him, willing to do whatever and whoever they need to get close. He’ll have developed a bullshit detector even I couldn’t crack. And you?” He releases me in utter exasperation and shrugs. “You wouldn’t make it past the front door. You have one damning trait that even those sniveling, pathetic whores he surrounds himself with lack.”
“And what is that?”
“Self-respect,” he says without hesitation. “Humility. Honor. Kindness. You aren’t a downright sociopath, and a man like Jaguar would see right through you. If you interest him enough, he might enjoy breaking that spirit, but in the end, you wouldn’t get what you’re after. Only pain and humiliation. Take my word for it. Find a new plan.” Turning on his heel, he heads for my bedroom. Despite his disparaging assessment of my clothing, I bet he’s eager to raid my closet to see if I have another pair of shorts. Once, he let it slip that some of his lovers enjoy roleplay.
“But if Iwereto catch his eye?” I follow him directly to my tiny closet. There he stands with his hands on his hips, inspecting the handful of items I have displayed on hangers. “How would I go about it? Don’t play coy with me—I’m sure you have an idea in that twisted brain of yours. Or are you not the expert you claim to be?”
That low dig at his honor does the trick. He pivots and inspects me yet again. This time, he lingers on my thighs and the visible scars most people overlook.
“Of course, I know how,” he snaps, crossing his arms while still leaving his exposed nipple in view. “But I don’t think you’re woman enough to try it. Hell, even I wouldn’t ever attempt to mingle in the same room as Julian Domingas, let alone catch his notice.”
“But…?” I inch closer, intrigued by the sly gleam in his eye. Because I know that look. It’s one he sports whenever he drives by in a brand-new luxury car gifted by some mysterious big shot. Paid for in cash. “You have an idea. Spill it and let me be the judge of what I would and wouldn’t do.”
“You’d have to change your entire personality for one,” Pedro remarks with a dismissive wave in my general direction. “You’re too independent. Too bold. Men like Jaguar—those who can have anyone they want with a snap of their fingers—thrive on attaining what they seemingly can’t have. But deep down, they need to know that theycanget it eventually. One look at you and Jaguar would know that you truly had no interest in him. There is no fight.”
“Are you going to beat around the bush all night, or is there a meaning to this long-winded insult of my entire personality and appearance?”
Pedro scoffs and approaches the vanity, where he keeps his stash of cigarettes for when he visits. He draws one and makes a show of lighting it with a fancy, silver lighter given to him by one of his paramours. After inhaling, he slowly exhales, blowing the smoke in my direction.
“Beat around the bush is exactly what youcan’tdo when dealing with a man like Jaguar. You lay it all on the table. What you want from him. What you are willing to offer him in return.”
“You said a man like him is used to women throwing themselves at him. So, I need to throw myself at him?”
He laughs. “Oh, you sweet, naïve thing. There is a difference between throwing and offering yourself on a silver platter. You pledge to give a man like that everything. Your loyalty, your body, your trust. But only to him. He must become your entire universe. Devotion is the love language to bastards like Julian Domingas. But not desperation. You position yourself as the only woman in the world who could truly give him happiness. The only woman he can trust to never betray him. Never speak of him badly, no matter what he does to you. A woman he can call his. I’m sure he’s had beautiful women. Perfect women. All who have slept with another on their way up the social ladder, or who will gladly fuck or screw whoever comes after. You need to be a woman crafted solely for Julian Domingas, willing to follow him to the ends of the earth.”
“So, I need to be desperate but not too desperate.” I deflate, convinced I’ve been the butt of his elaborate joke this entire time.
Pedro doesn’t laugh. “A man like Jaguar wants more than sex, Pita. More than surface-level affection or romance. He wants more than love. He craves obsession—he can’t help himself. He needs a woman to see him as he sees himself. Dangerous. Perfect. Powerful. No one’s fool. Can you do that? Demean yourself like that?” He cups my chin, lifting it for inspection a second time.
I don’t shy from the scrutiny. “You tell me how and I will do it. For my nephew, I will do anything.”
“You always were a crazy ass ride-or-die, Pita.” He sighs, clucking his tongue. “I could say no, but that wouldn’t stop you from going it alone.”
“You know that better than anyone,” I say with a sad smile. After all, we escaped Hell together, hand in hand like always.
Pedro eyes me for a long time, and I can’t tell what he’s thinking. Finally, he nods and gestures to the closet.
“Okay. I will bestow upon you a taste of my expertise. We will start with your hair. Then outfit. I’ll pull some strings and get you something nicer than the shit you have in this junk pile. I’m sure this entire thing will blow up in your face, but you know I can’t resist that pouty, doe-eyed thing you do. That will come in handy, by the way. We will need to perfect it, though. And another thing…”
“Yes?” I clasp my hands eagerly.
He props a hand on his hip, his lips pursed. “Now, this question is very important. It will determine the course of your entire harebrained scheme, so answer carefully. How do you feel about group sex?”
I try not to grimace. “I’ll feel about it however you tell me to feel.”
“Good answer, you kiss-ass,” he says with a laugh. “From now on, you follow my every word of advice down to the letter. It’s the only way you’ll stay alive—trust me on that.”
Trust is a piece of me only Pedro has ever earned. Enough that I don’t hesitate to put my life in his hands, as well as my body.
If anyone can teach me how to seduce the most powerful man in the world, it’s Pedro Juarez.
CHAPTERTHREE
My journey into the world of dangerous narcos begins in an unexpected place. You can find normal men gambling at a pool hall or drooling over dancers in a strip club. Even Braulio is partial to a particular titty bar up north.
In contrast, Julian Domingas holds court in a location exclusive to him, which perfectly sets the stage for what Pedro has lovingly dubbed my suicide mission.