Play with Fire.

“I think I need a vacation.” I chuckle a few days later as I spend my day in the office of the plantation house. “Maybe one of these days, I’ll actually come to Colombia for pleasure instead of business.”

“One could only hope.” Santiago laughs. Santiago is the son of Miguel Angel, the man my dad trusts more than life itself. Miguel Angel has been working for my father since the start. He’s been such a big part of my family, he’s practically my uncle. He’s been to every big family moment since meeting my dad. He’s been to christenings, birthdays and more importantly, my mother’s funeral. And his son is no different. Santiago has been a constant in my life and the highlight of my trips to Colombia.

“I feel like I’m stuck in a damn rut.” I sigh. “I’m either here or stuck in San Francisco with the family. I never do anything that doesn’t have to do with the career choice my father decided to go after. Not even my relationships are mine.”

“It’s not like your dad decided to arrange a marriage for you.” Santiago laughs but quickly stops when he realizes, I’m not laughing with him. “Are you fucking joking Chiquita?”

“Shits going down back at home.” I begin to explain. “There is this group that’s trying to slowly take over everything. They are taking over territories and killing the people. They are destroying everything they touch.”

“But what does that have to do with you getting married?”

Before I could reply, both of us hear ruckus coming from beyond the french doors of the office. We exchange looks and slowly creeping out of the door, Santiago has his gun drawn just in case. I open the door and I’m instantly greeted with Valentia and Francy, our property caretaker and housemaid, standing there cursing out a blonde haired man. Their Spanish curse words flow freely from their mouths, which brings a smile to my face. .

“Who the fuck are you?” Santiago questions the blonde man in front of us. A smirk appears on my lips because I know exactly who is in front of us. I just like seeing the scared look on Franco’s face as he’s staring down the barrel of a gun.

“You can lower your weapon, Santi.” I tell the man next to me. “He’s not a threat.”

“How do you know, Chiquita?” He asks, still holding up his gun. “Do you know him?”

“Santiago, this is my future husband Franco.” I say, introducing the two men before turning my attention to Franco. “What the fuck are you doing here Baby Face?”

“Baby Face?” Santiago questions. “As in Baby Face Gambino? As in the son of the man that nearly got your father killed? That same Baby Face?”

“It’s a long story, Santi.” I sigh. “But yea, same guy.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were leaving the country?” Franco questions me. “I’ve been trying to get in contact with you for days. Doesn’t your cell phone work down here?”

“We are in the middle of fucking nowhere.” I chuckle. “My cell doesn’t exactly work down here. If you needed to contact me so badly, you could have just asked my dad for the landline number. You didn’t need to come all the way down here.”

“You’re my wife, you need to tell me when you decide to leave the country.” Franco narrows his eyes at me, causing me to scoff. “What was that?”

“Take your head out of your ass.” I tell him. “There is no ring on my finger. And even if there was, I’m not dropping my job just because you want me home. I’m not done here for fun. I’m working. Now if you don’t mind, I’ve got a shipment to prepare. You are more than welcome to hang out here. I’m sure Valentina and Francy would love to bitch at you in Spanish some more. Now come on Santiago.” Santiago takes one more look at Franco before following me into the office to continue our job.

“He’s a keeper..”

A humorless chuckle escapes my lips as I continue doing paperwork…

**

“There was a DEA agent at your father’s private landing strip the day you left.” Franco states over dinner. “What was that about?”

“His name is Special Agent Killian Thomas.” I inform my future husband. “His team is always at the strip whenever I leave. They’ll also be at our warehouse when I arrive with our next shipment.”

“How do you plan on smuggling cocaine into the Bay with DEA agents on your tail?” He asks.

“Same way we’ve been doing it for years.” I smile. “And that isn’t any of your concern; not yet anyway.”

“Not going to tell me how?”

“If you don’t know how to smuggle drugs past drug sniffing dogs, that’s not my fault.” I reply. “Isn’t your father into smuggling?”

“Not drugs.” He informs me. “Weapons and art; mainly very illegal guns. But never drugs. He’s never liked dealing with drugs anyway. It’s one of the reasons why he doesn’t like your father.”

“They used to be friends, you know?” I inform Franco. “That was until your dad turned into an homophobic douche canoe. It’s a shame he ruined a potentially good partnership.”

“Well they have that partnership now.” Franco shrugs.

“They have that partnership until The Triad gets taken down.” I counter. “Because once those Korean bastards are gone, our marriage is over. We’ll go our separate ways and never deal with each other again.”

“You’re acting as if being married to me is a death sentence.” He lets out a humorless chuckle. “It’s not going to be that bad.”

“Bad things happen to a woman that’s stupid enough to marry a Gambino man.” I shrug. “I’m not looking to be the next woman that gets offed because of my husband.”

“You rather get offed being a drug mule?” He scoffs. “That’s not much better.”

“I rather die for my family than die being your wife.” I get up from the table. “Good night, Franco…” With that, I walk towards my room, slamming the door shut.