Page 58 of Cartel Devil

“It’s cool if you do.” That sounds so fucking lame.

“Tío Enrique loves psychological thrillers. He binged Tía Elle’s entire catalog in like a week. I prefer stories that end with happily ever afters, or at least happy for now. Both are escapism. Mine’s just fantasy.”

He glances down at me, realizing how that last bit sounds. He’s blushing even more. He opens his mouth, but he’s at a loss for words now.

“I feel the same way.”

Hurt flashes in his eyes before he watches where we’re going. He regrets implying we don’t have a happy future, and he doesn’t like that I see an unhappy ending as an inevitability for us. It’s not what I meant.

“Joaco, I meant I enjoy the escapism.”

He nods, but it takes a moment before he pulls his head out of his shell. “I read somewhere that twenty percent of romance readers are men. I’m not that odd.”

I turn my head to stare up at him. “Do you have any favorites?”

“Whatever I’m reading. And you’re right about our world being like a shifter one. The bratva are the witches because they’re little bitches. The Mafia are the vamps because they can’t survive without leeching onto everyone else. The mob are the knuckle-dragging wolves. ‘Me Tarzan, you Jane.’ And we’re the dragons. All the best qualities of those fuckers and exceptional at everything. There’s a reason my family runs an entire continent.”

He watches me, particularly when he maligns the Mafia. He waits for me to defend my family, but I can’t. He’s not exactly wrong. Besides, I’m making the same choice my mom did. Leave my syndicate family to join a rival’s. History repeats itself.

Even if Joaquin and I don’t wind up together, if I keep this baby, then I’m binding myself to the Cartel. I don’t know that anyone would cut me off like my mom’s uncle did to her. I don’t think anyone would force me to declare my allegiance. It would just happen.

“I, um, got a doctor’s office number today. I want to make an appointment.”

Joaquin watches me for a moment before he responds. “Does that mean you decided?”

“No.”

“Tre, I think you have. If you didn’t want to go through with this, why would you want to see our—embryo?”

He’s careful what he says, not wanting to overstate anything or come across as emotionally manipulative. Maybe he’s even doing it for himself. Keeping himself from getting too emotionally attached. His question gives me pause. He’s right. I want to make sure everything is all right.

“Are you considering adoption, Tre?”

“No. The thought hadn’t even crossed my mind.”

“Is it something you want to think about?”

“No.”

My answer’s more strident than I intended, but it says far more than one word usually can. Joaquin pulls me closer, and I rest my head against his chest as we approach a town car.

“Do you want me to take you home?”

“Will you stay?”

“If that’s what you want.”

“Is that what you want?”

“Tre, I came to pick you up.”

A driver opens the rear passenger side door, and I slide in. Joaquin tells the driver where to go, then follows me in before the man shuts the door. I notice the privacy glass is already up. It’s that way in my family’s cars and the Mancinellis’. Privacy is an expectation, not an exception.

“It’s not yet five. Is the doctor’s office still open?”

“I think so. I was going to call earlier, but Sera needed me.”

“How’d you find the doctor’s office? Sera? I can recommend two⁠—”