Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 88447 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88447 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
How fucking dare he?
We soon arrived at the foyer that led to the inner sanctum of the Cordova Empire.
The wide, circular space held an incredible floor mosaic depicting an Aztec pattern, and the South American artwork and furniture screamed money. Big money. Armed guards ringed the room, a pair guarding each of the six doors surrounding us, and a couple gave me weary looks as their hands crept just a little closer to their guns. A few appeared unnerved as I glared at them, and more than one paled.
“Mrs. Cordova is ready for you now,” came a familiar female voice from my left.
Daniella was Mrs. Cordova’s personal secretary, and a brass balls bitch who looked like a sweet, elderly black librarian. She favored muted cardigans and sensible shoes, and even had one of those pearl chains to hold her glasses around her neck. It would be easy to dismiss her as harmless, if you didn’t know she was an assassin for the Cordova Cartel before she retired to work as Mrs. Cordova’s righthand woman.
Her sister, the equally intimidating Delores, was Hannah’s virtual PA and friend.
Daniella’s lightly wrinkled face was bland as usual as I angrily stomped past her and into the office of Mrs. Cordova.
Tall, sophisticated, and oozing power, Mrs. Cordova glanced up at me from behind her large desk. The light coming in from the vast window behind her made the thick silver streaks in her elegantly styled black hair shine. Her dark, knowing gaze did a quick sweep, and her red-painted lips thinned in disapproval. As usual, she’d dressed to the nines in a cream and black suit, making me more than aware that my own personal appearance was lacking. Standing before her, I felt like a dirty-faced little kid being called to the principal’s office for some bullshit I pulled on the playground.
It was crazy how she could do that, how her mere presence could affect me.
Her cultured voice, still holding a trace of an El Salvadorian accent, filled the room. “So, my lovely daughter-in-law Hannah called me to warn me you were going to kill her husband.”
I wondered how Hannah knew I was looking for Leo, then I realized Layla probably called her. “This is between Leo and me.”
She arched one curved, black brow. “You’re mad that he hypnotized Layla, correct?”
“He had no right!”
“Lower your voice,” she snapped. “I’m not your mother, so do not yell at me like a child having a tantrum.”
Her words sliced at me, and I strained for control as I pushed back my anger. “Yes, Mrs. Cordova.”
“Better.”
I took a deep breath and tried to keep my tone even. “He had no right to hypnotize her.”
“He had every right. She asked for his help.”
“She had no idea what he was really going to do.”
Mrs. Cordova leaned forward, the fat ruby and gold pendant around her neck swinging gently. “No, you have no idea what he was really going to do. Leo didn’t program Layla.”
“But…” I found my mouth suddenly dry as I tried to swallow beneath her cold, irritated gaze. “He hypnotized her.”
“He did. Conventional hypnotism with a little help. He said she was very responsive to it as well.”
“He didn’t drug her?”
“No. Well, I believe he gave her a sedative, but that was more to relax her than anything else.” She leaned back in her tall black leather chair, her nearly black eyes focused on me. “Besides, you know I have final say on who is worthy of being programed.”
I blinked, thrown off by her statement. “Worthy?”
“Yes, worthy. You may see the programming as some great evil, but that is only your own fear talking. For the past two years, you’ve spent a great deal of time with Hannah and Joy, you’ve seen the results of their programming. Have either of them suffered from it? Become mindless robots? Or…sheep as Fernando likes to say? No, they haven’t. Instead, they’ve blossomed, become strong, independent women who can handle anything our world can throw at them.”
“That’s different. Layla’s different.”
“Yes, she is.” Mrs. Cordova lifted her chin. “I think she would benefit greatly from Leo’s help.”
My temper slipped, “I don’t. His little session already fucked her up.”
“What do you mean.”
I explained about Layla’s anger, how she said Leo had hypnotized her to be more aggressive.
“You’re wrong, but I know you’re so set on being angry and hurt that you won’t listen to me.” Giving me a look that clearly conveyed she thought I was a dumbass, she pressed a button on her phone and said, “Send Leo in, please.”
Adrenaline surged through me as Leo, wearing a dark brown suit and gold tie, casually strolled into the office with a laptop under his arm.
I leapt to my feet, intent on getting my pound of flesh, when Mrs. Cordova’s voice stopped me.
“Mark,” her cold tone drew my instant attention. “I’d highly suggest you sit down and listen to what he has to say. You are trying my patience.”