DAMIEN
“Damien. What a surprise.”
Ignacio Velez—president of the Cilantro Group, Wendy Osborne’s uncle, and a professional nuisance—rises from his seat to greet me. The two women flanking him shift obediently, bowing their heads as they scramble to cover bare skin that was never meant to stay uncovered for long.
His private room overlooks the chaos of the club below. Vixen’s Kiss in full bloom—music, bodies, hunger. Exactly how he likes it. Front-row seats to pick which unfortunate woman he’ll drag upstairs next.
He offers his hand.
I glance at it. Then ignore it.
The Cilantro Group is a business my family can’t afford to offend. Convenient for them. Less so for me—considering the Vosses only remember I’m “family” when it benefits them. To Ignacio, though, I’m a problem. To me, he’s
