The Sweetest Kill (Morales' Cartel #1)

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1 9 8 6,

T I J U A N A,

M E X I C O,

As she adjusted the gold chain of Chanel classic flap on her shoulder, Aliyah started feeling the weight of her expensive purse. Each day the weight of her handbag got a little heavier which ironically was a lightweight. Halting her steps, she pursed her lips and again slid the gold sling over her shoulder and chanted the mantra, she was already habituated to: dad, bills ....and dad, bills. Dad. Bills. Closing her eyes, she exhaled a thick breath. Realising a dominating presence, she turned her back and saw two men in blue pinstripe suits and white shirts. Reminding the daily mantra again, she smiled, a little too sweetly, "Yes?"

"Mrs Salazar, Don had asked to drop you early. If you please continue...," Though he had his sunglasses worn, he could not hide the impression of trepidation he felt over interrupting the thoughts of Don's wife.

"Of course, my bad. Why don't you lead the way?" Her irritation almost melted at the thought of intimidating men over six feet despite her limited stature at 5'3.

Glancing at her Lincoln Mark VII, the circle of emotions began again, the anger, anxiety, guilty, reassurance until the daily chant had put the deadlock. Rubbing her hands on the jeans, she relaxed on the leather seat.

"Sebastián, could you tell me that story of Cinderella until I fall asleep." The exhaustion had already touched her eyes, but the inner unrest was refusing to submit to the void. Perhaps, the relatability of a fairy tale princess might put her to rest.

"Umm...of course, ma'am." Ignoring the teasing glance of the driver, Sebastián began, "but there is a bit of a problem, I don't know who is Cinderella. Was she a queen of some famous drug cartel?"

Aliyah chuckled, "No, she wasn't." With that, she let her exhaustion won and fell asleep.

••••••••••••†••••••••••†•••••••••

Spraying a lavender scented perfume on her neck, wrist, and elbows, Aliyah adjusted the neckline of her thin leopard print spaghetti nightgown which reached her knees. She untied her bun and the thick mass of platinum blonde hair fell loose till her hips. Taming the tresses through fingers, she once again checked her appearance. Bright red lips. Collyrium coated eyes. Perfumed body. Perfect. Just the way he liked.

The knock on the door intruded her thoughts, and her heart began running faster, had he come? But he wasn't the one to knock. Gulping, she yelled, "Yes?"

A worried maid looked over the door, "Ma'am, Don is calling you in the basement."

"What? In the basement?" He had never called her there. That space was only for the people who awaited the time of their torture or death. She never went near it, and never wanted to. Anxiousness spread in her body and sweat broke on her forehead. Numerous horrible theatrics started passing through her eyes. He could not have known about that, no definitely not that!

"Ma'am you need to hurry. He was looking quite angry."

"Yes...I-I am coming." Quickly wearing a robe and tying her hair in a bun, she trudged down the stairs missing two steps at each time. She continued that for two other staircases completely forgetting the sensibility to use the lift, she ran until the large mahogany door of the basement appeared before her.

Taking a deep breath and wiping the sweat from her forehead, she tried to calm her racing heart down. Whatever it was, it would cool down. Nothing a little seduction can't do. With a nice pep talk to herself, she opened the door.