Some men simply can’t be characterized by a chilling reputation alone. They have a body count. On the national index of several countries, they have an entire page dedicated to their crimes. The kind of men the law can’t touch.
Julian Domingas comfortably sits at the top of that list of infamous narcos. A known trafficker with enough money and influence to rival several small countries, he is a force to be reckoned with, if not the most powerful man on earth. If anyone can get Francisco out of Braulio’s hands, it’s him. I’d stake my life on it.
Though, I might lose a lot more than that in the end. Fighting a formidable monster sometimes requires allying with a more vicious one. Occasionally, you’ll need the devil himself.
Despite the insane risk, I tell myself what a good idea it is. How smart. How logical. How entirely not stupid.
As always, Pedro is there to loudly put me in my place. He arrived not long after I returned from the bar, summoned by a frantic text message. After hearing my plan out loud, he laughed before raiding my minuscule liquor cabinet for a bottle of whiskey.
“Jaguar’s men would gut you before you could get within two feet of him, let alone ask him to take on a rival just for you,” he declares before downing his drink. “You think Braulio’s heartless? Just wait. Even trying to talk to Jaguar is suicide. No, it’s beyond that, Pita. It’s plain, fucking masochism. You have a death wish? Try heroin and booze like the rest of us.”
I roll my eyes without comment. Been there. Done that. I rely on a new vice these days, and it seems to be blindly hoping to change my fate with sheer willpower and bad luck. In a sense, it’s only slightly less debilitating than any addiction.
“Rumor has it he’s a sadist,” I reply, thoughtfully biting my lower lip. “A tactic like debasing myself might appeal more to someone like him.”
“Oh no.” Pedro throws his hands into the air and raises a heavily filled-in eyebrow. Paired with his made-up eyes and short brown hair, even I can admit that he’s stunning. “First, you wanted to seduce some low-level sex trafficker in your grand scheme. Now you jump to debasing yourself before a crime lord? Is there nothing you won’t stop at?”
“No,” I say seriously. We’re in my tiny living room, and perched on a battered end table is one of the few pictures I own—one of Franco taken at his school. He’s so damn beautiful. So innocent. I can’t just leave him in Braulio’s grasp.
When Pedro sighs, I know he’s followed my gaze to the same image.
“I won’t stop,” I say softly. “Not until I get Franco away from that sick bastard. There is no way in hell I’ll ever let that monster Braulio keep him. Never.”
Pedro raises another perfectly-plucked eyebrow. “And Jaguar is any better? Braulio may be a snake, but some might consider a snake a better provider than a…well, a hungry jaguar. Let’s say you convince him to take down Braulio and his gang, and then what? He’ll let you skip off into the sunset with his rival’s pride and joy? It’s bullshit, Pita, though I’m sure you already know that.”
I raise an eyebrow as well and watch as Pedro sashays over to my kitchenette to grab a handful of ice from the freezer. “You seem to think that I plan on sitting back and letting Jaguar be my knight in shining armor, should I be able to convince him to help,” I say. “No. I’ll let the snake and the jaguar kill each other while I sneak off unnoticed with a child neither bastard truly gives a damn about. That, my dear, is what you call a win-win.”
Or insanity, but I’m already sold on the concept, and frankly, it’s the only solid plan I have.
“Besides, I need to strike before Braulio takes Franco from the country.”
“I should have never told you that,” Pedro says, shaking his head. “Damn me for being such a gossip.”
A gossip who gets his rumors from sources he refuses to tell me about. Given his “profession,” Pedro has always been able to score incredible intel—no matter how devastating it turns out to be.
“But you did tell me,” I say. “After exhausting every reasonable avenue, I need some way to keep him here. I have to try. You’re the expert on men, Pedro,” I add, abruptly changing the subject. Dressed in a low-cut red dress with one nipple brazenly exposed, no one could deny that Pedro has an appeal few women possess, let alone me. Luck or charm isn’t the source of his success. No, seduction is a skill he’s honed through a life of pain and misery, scrapping for whatever living he could find by any means.
Even though he isn’t proud of his circumstances, he is damn proud of having survived to see himself established in a much-better position than where he started. He rarely tells me about his escapades, but his lifestyle doesn’t come cheap, and I know the rumors. He deals with powerful men. Even some in the cartels. Perhaps Julian Domingas himself?
The sad part is that I know Pedro won’t tell even if he does. In addition to his wits and sheer determination, his knack for discretion has kept him alive.
Even so, he knows a thing or two about seduction, and I’m eager to learn from him.
“Teach me your ways, oh master,” I plead.
“You? Turn tricks for the rich and powerful?” Pedro frowns and gives me a once-over. Whatever impression I make has him clucking his tongue in despair. “Dios mío. Your hair could use a good wash for a start. Whatever this look is—” He waves disapprovingly at my denim shorts and low-cut tank top. “Might work on those cheap ass pendejos at the strip club, but for a man like Jaguar? Oh, honey. Your whole approach will need fine-tuning, and honestly, I’m not sure you can even pull it off.”
I fake pout, though internally, I can’t deny his assessment stings a little. Pedro is honest to a fault, and I know he means every word. “Am I not pretty enough, oh master?”
“No.” He crosses over to me and captures my chin against his palm. With a sigh, he angles my face to better view my profile. Again, he clucks his tongue. “You aren’t cunning enough. You’re too desperate. I can see it all over you. A man like Jaguar gets drunk off desperation. He overdoses on it every damn day. I’m sure that whenever he walks into the club, scores of women throw themselves at him, willing to do whatever and whoever they need to get close. He’ll have developed a bullshit detector even I couldn’t crack. And you?” He releases me in utter exasperation and shrugs. “You wouldn’t make it past the front door. You have one damning trait that even those sniveling, pathetic whores he surrounds himself with lack.”
“And what is that?”
“Self-respect,” he says without hesitation. “Humility. Honor. Kindness. You aren’t a downright sociopath, and a man like Jaguar would see right through you. If you interest him enough, he might enjoy breaking that spirit, but in the end, you wouldn’t get what you’re after. Only pain and humiliation. Take my word for it. Find a new plan.” Turning on his heel, he heads for my bedroom. Despite his disparaging assessment of my clothing, I bet he’s eager to raid my closet to see if I have another pair of shorts. Once, he let it slip that some of his lovers enjoy roleplay.
“But if I were to catch his eye?” I follow him directly to my tiny closet. There he stands with his hands on his hips, inspecting the handful of items I have displayed on hangers. “How would I go about it? Don’t play coy with me—I’m sure you have an idea in that twisted brain of yours. Or are you not the expert you claim to be?”
That low dig at his honor does the trick. He pivots and inspects me yet again. This time, he lingers on my thighs and the visible scars most people overlook.
“Of course, I know how,” he snaps, crossing his arms while still leaving his exposed nipple in view. “But I don’t think you’re woman enough to try it. Hell, even I wouldn’t ever attempt to mingle in the same room as Julian Domingas, let alone catch his notice.”
“But…?” I inch closer, intrigued by the sly gleam in his eye. Because I know that look. It’s one he sports whenever he drives by in a brand-new luxury car gifted by some mysterious big shot. Paid for in cash. “You have an idea. Spill it and let me be the judge of what I would and wouldn’t do.”
“You’d have to change your entire personality for one,” Pedro remarks with a dismissive wave in my general direction. “You’re too independent. Too bold. Men like Jaguar—those who can have anyone they want with a snap of their fingers—thrive on attaining what they seemingly can’t have. But deep down, they need to know that they can get it eventually. One look at you and Jaguar would know that you truly had no interest in him. There is no fight.”
“Are you going to beat around the bush all night, or is there a meaning to this long-winded insult of my entire personality and appearance?”
Pedro scoffs and approaches the vanity, where he keeps his stash of cigarettes for when he visits. He draws one and makes a show of lighting it with a fancy, silver lighter given to him by one of his paramours. After inhaling, he slowly exhales, blowing the smoke in my direction.
“Beat around the bush is exactly what you can’t do when dealing with a man like Jaguar. You lay it all on the table. What you want from him. What you are willing to offer him in return.”
“You said a man like him is used to women throwing themselves at him. So, I need to throw myself at him?”
He laughs. “Oh, you sweet, naïve thing. There is a difference between throwing and offering yourself on a silver platter. You pledge to give a man like that everything. Your loyalty, your body, your trust. But only to him. He must become your entire universe. Devotion is the love language to bastards like Julian Domingas. But not desperation. You position yourself as the only woman in the world who could truly give him happiness. The only woman he can trust to never betray him. Never speak of him badly, no matter what he does to you. A woman he can call his. I’m sure he’s had beautiful women. Perfect women. All who have slept with another on their way up the social ladder, or who will gladly fuck or screw whoever comes after. You need to be a woman crafted solely for Julian Domingas, willing to follow him to the ends of the earth.”
“So, I need to be desperate but not too desperate.” I deflate, convinced I’ve been the butt of his elaborate joke this entire time.
Pedro doesn’t laugh. “A man like Jaguar wants more than sex, Pita. More than surface-level affection or romance. He wants more than love. He craves obsession—he can’t help himself. He needs a woman to see him as he sees himself. Dangerous. Perfect. Powerful. No one’s fool. Can you do that? Demean yourself like that?” He cups my chin, lifting it for inspection a second time.
I don’t shy from the scrutiny. “You tell me how and I will do it. For my nephew, I will do anything.”
“You always were a crazy ass ride-or-die, Pita.” He sighs, clucking his tongue. “I could say no, but that wouldn’t stop you from going it alone.”
“You know that better than anyone,” I say with a sad smile. After all, we escaped Hell together, hand in hand like always.
Pedro eyes me for a long time, and I can’t tell what he’s thinking. Finally, he nods and gestures to the closet.
“Okay. I will bestow upon you a taste of my expertise. We will start with your hair. Then outfit. I’ll pull some strings and get you something nicer than the shit you have in this junk pile. I’m sure this entire thing will blow up in your face, but you know I can’t resist that pouty, doe-eyed thing you do. That will come in handy, by the way. We will need to perfect it, though. And another thing…”
“Yes?” I clasp my hands eagerly.
He props a hand on his hip, his lips pursed. “Now, this question is very important. It will determine the course of your entire harebrained scheme, so answer carefully. How do you feel about group sex?”
I try not to grimace. “I’ll feel about it however you tell me to feel.”
“Good answer, you kiss-ass,” he says with a laugh. “From now on, you follow my every word of advice down to the letter. It’s the only way you’ll stay alive—trust me on that.”
Trust is a piece of me only Pedro has ever earned. Enough that I don’t hesitate to put my life in his hands, as well as my body.
If anyone can teach me how to seduce the most powerful man in the world, it’s Pedro Juarez.