CUBAN HIRE (CARTEL GXG)

SURRENDERING TO THE HEAT

content warning: sexually explicit scene

Third Person POV

Ezmeralda stepped outside, the cool night air brushing against her skin, but it did little to ease the tightness in her chest. Her breath came in sharp, ragged bursts as if the anger still clung to her lungs, refusing to let go. She was trying to calm herself, to shake off the remnants of the storm that had just passed inside the house. The fresh air, however, did little to dull the fire that still simmered beneath the surface.

In the deepest recesses of her mind, there was something she couldn't deny: Olivia had struck a nerve. Ezmeralda had been both angered and—though she hated to admit it—impressed by Olivia's defiance. She had expected Carmen's betrayal, but Olivia's touch, her body pressed against someone else's, had ignited something darker, more primal in her. It wasn't Carmen's disloyalty that hurt; it was the thought of Olivia allowing someone else to touch her, to feel the skin that Ezmeralda herself had restrained from claiming.

It was maddening.

As much as she tried to bury it, thoughts of Olivia haunted her. Ever since the wedding, that unexpected kiss, the one that had sparked a wildfire of emotion within her, Olivia had occupied her mind. No matter how much she tried to push it away, the image of Olivia, her lips, her body—her—kept resurfacing. The idea of someone else laying their hands on what she wanted to possess made her skin crawl with jealousy. She could imagine holding Olivia herself, kissing her, making her tremble in ways no one else could. The urge to claim her as her own was almost unbearable.

But Ezmeralda couldn't let herself fall. She couldn't afford to love again.

Love was dangerous. It was an all-consuming force that left nothing but ashes in its wake. She had loved before—deeply, truly—and it had cost her everything. She had sworn to protect Elena, her daughter, when her mother, Aletha, left for a trip. And she had failed. Losing Elena had ripped her soul apart, and it was a wound that would never heal. She had learned then that love made you weak, and weakness got people killed. The weight of that promise broken haunted her every day. She had vowed never to let herself feel that vulnerable again.

But no matter how hard she tried to bury those emotions, they were clawing their way back to the surface. Carmen was just a tool, a pawn in this twisted game. A reminder of the feelings Ezmeralda was so desperate to keep locked away. She couldn't allow herself to care for Olivia. She wouldn't.

Shaking the dangerous thoughts from her head, Ezmeralda reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone, quickly dialing a familiar number. The phone rang several times before Carlos answered, his voice groggy with sleep.

"Qué pasa?" he mumbled, the sound of him shuffling out of bed evident as he tried not to wake Phoebe.

"Carmen Alfaro," Ezmeralda said calmly, her voice as cold as the night air. "Quema su pasaporte."

Carlos fell silent for a moment, processing the weight of her words. He knew exactly what that meant. "Burn her passport"—it was a code they used. It meant someone was marked for elimination, no escape, no second chances. Their passport would be taken, symbolically stripping them of their identity, their ability to flee.

"Alfaro? ¿Tu jefa de suministros?" he finally questioned, the breeze rustling through the phone as he likely stepped outside.

{your supply manager?}

"Sí," Ezmeralda replied, her lips curling into a dry chuckle, though there was no humor in it. Saying it aloud made it all the more real. "Ella estaba en mi cama... con Olivia."