by Ashley Munoz
My mouth opened as Maria made a clicking sound with her tongue. I eyed her disapproving look for her family relation then swung my head toward said woman at the counter.
“I eat…not as well when Juan isn’t cooking for me, but I do eat.” I nervously moved toward the corner of the kitchen, grabbing three coffee mugs. “Would either of you like coffee?” My face burned, but I wasn’t sure why. I supposed it was because I’d never played hostess before or met anyone’s aunts or family…not that Juan was a someone to me, but he was the closest I’d ever had.
The women began whispering to each other, Maria sounding more angry with the taller woman with each passing second.
“Yes, I’d love some,” Maria finally replied sweetly.
“You move around my son’s house like you own it,” the other woman chided, letting out a scoffing sound.
I looked down at the mugs in my hand, feeling a strange sensation open inside my chest. It was cold but also searing hot, as if rage was burning me from the inside out. This was Juan’s mother, and she sounded as if she hated me. She had just met me; how did she already hate me?
“You’re Juan’s mother?” I whispered, turning away from the counter.
She didn’t turn, just kept chopping with her lips drawn into a thin line.
“I am, and you’re not good for him,” she snapped right as Juan walked in.
“Mama, no sabes nada.” He said it coldly enough to force his mother’s head to snap up, her hands freezing in place.
“Ella es una perra,” his mother yelled, throwing her hands out passionately.
The skylight accented her tan face, her whiskey eyes, and her dark hair. She was as beautiful as Juan. All it did was make me think of what I’d heard the night prior about Juan’s father. Juan was called the little ghost because he used to kill people…
Juan’s loud slap against the counter had my thoughts scrambling and forcing me to jump.
“You will not call her a whore while in my house. You haven’t even met her, haven’t even given her a chance.” He seethed.
My spine snapped straight, unfamiliar with the sensation of being defended. It had never happened before.
Juan walked over, shoving his hands into his pockets. He was already dressed in a nice suit, sans the jacket, the sleeves of his white button-down rolled up to his elbows. It was only nine in the morning and he already looked like sin.
He wrapped a hand around my waist, drawing me closer to him until his lips pressed against my hairline.
“If you can’t understand this or respect it…then leave,” Juan explained, softening his voice only a small amount. I watched his face, his lips drawing down while his eyes stayed firmly on hers.
“You’re already changing. You don’t want this. You have never wanted this, and now she’s forcing you into it,” his mother yelled again, slamming her hands on the counter, shoving the cutting board forward.
I nearly jumped again, but not because of her. It was her choice of words. They might as well have been as sharp as the knife she’d used.
“Get out of my house.”
“It’s his house, their house…El Peligro’s house. She’s the daughter of the man who killed your father, and she’s living in your home like nothing is wrong. She should be traded back to that monster.” His mother spat the words, her face twisting with rage.
A few men filtered into the room, immediately looking to Juan, watching for him to tell them what to do. I recognized the look in their eyes; it was how my father’s men used to look at him when they were prepared to dispose of a problem. Lethally.
I wanted to say something, but Juan squeezed my hand, encouraging me to tuck my chin and wait it out.
My chest heaved as I waited for him to respond, as I waited for him to seal any fate we might have. I couldn’t be with a man as cruel as my father. I wouldn’t be, not even to keep up pretenses. If Juan was physical with his mother or killed her, I’d leave and never come back.
“Mama, I know you’re worried about me. I know you love me, but taking your fear out on Taylor is the wrong move. She hasn’t done anything. She’s innocent in this.”
My eyes snapped up, desperate to see the tenderness in Juan’s face that might match his velvet voice. His mother crumbled; Juan left me to hug her. She cried into his shoulder, speaking in Spanish as she sobbed. After a few minutes, he ushered her out of the kitchen.
I spun back toward the coffee machine, trying to hide my watering eyes. Busying myself with the buttons, I didn’t notice Maria sneak up behind me.
“You’ll have to develop thick skin if you’re going to be in this family.”
I looked over my shoulder, hoping my tone wasn’t as rude as I currently felt. “My skin is made of Kevlar. I’m not fragile. I am, however, petty as hell.”
Maria laughed, swiping a few crumbs from the counter.
I brought my coffee to my lips, sipping it while I waited to hear Maria’s piece. If she noticed I hadn’t made her coffee, I had no idea…but my kindness evaporated while being called a whore.
“You have to understand…Anna and Manuel, Juan’s parents…they were in love for so many years. El Peligro has never had a queen, but if it did, she would have been it. Her husband was the leader, and her son the young prince of the outfit. Back then, product was being moved between Mexico and the southern border…and it was Manuel’s father who decided to move it up the coast, into New York. He built this business with his bare hands.”
I continued nursing my cup of decaf, listening, and gathering up all the information she was giving freely.
“Anna loved her husband and son, but she hated this life. She was depressed and anxious all the time. Manuel cheated on her, often…he was so handsome and powerful, it was hard not to be drawn to him.” She tucked a few pieces of hair behind her ear, a rosy coloring filling her cheeks, and I wondered if she had been an admirer of Juan’s father. “Anna once caught him with someone in their bed, and that was the last straw. She left with Juan, going down to Mexico for five years. She met Leo, a simple cook who worked for the outfit, but only on the fringes. She fell in love, or at least something similar to what she had with Manuel, although most of us knew she’d never love another the way she loved that man. Regardless, she allowed her son to be raised by another man, a good man. It didn’t change the fact that Manny had Juan with him while he worked and tried to harden his heart with the evil he exposed him to, but he had a good man at the helm who led him onto a different path.”
My mind tugged at the pieces; how eerily similar Juan’s life was to my own. Both sired by monsters, both saved by brave mothers who found better men to raise us, now forced to return to the mess our fathers created.
“His mother never wanted this life for him. She’s scared, but give her another chance to show you who she is.” Maria pressed her gentle hand to my shoulder while moving out of the kitchen.
I nodded, watching her retreating form. Of course I’d give his mother another shot…her words had been mean, but as I pressed my hand to my growing belly, feeling my baby kick—I could understand where she was coming from. I’d want my child to have the best life possible, and being born into my family, I’d murder someone if anyone ever tried to drag them back.
Taking my mug, I sipped it while walking toward the back patio doors. Shattered glass had been everywhere the night before, at least that was what it had sounded like. Now, there was nothing to show for Juan’s family breaking in, save for a piece of plywood along the back wall.
Every morning, if I had the time, I liked going out there. I liked the way the sun rose over the orchard and the orange and purple streaked along the sky, like a toddler using crayons. I usually took a history book, my coffee, and a blanket to curl under. Juan had tried to accompany me a few times with his own book, but after the bed incident when I jumped out of his lap, he’d stopped.
There were men walking around the perimeter of the house, carrying guns…and once again, it was like someone had opened a
portal and I was transported back to my childhood. This wasn’t what I wanted, yet I knew I’d never outrun the life my father had planned for me. Just turned out I’d tricked him by shuffling the deck. I had no idea what I would have done if it weren’t for Juan pretending to be mine.
“Hey.” He broke into my thoughts, taking the chair across from me.
I smiled at him. “Hey, your mom okay?”
His grimace told me he wasn’t happy with her, and the way his lips turned down made me want to crawl into his lap and hug him. This is all my fault.
“She’s just worried about all this. Word spread pretty rapidly about this whole situation…my mom and aunt were here before I even woke up.”
“They love you.” I tried to lean forward to set my cup on the glass table, but my belly was making it difficult, so Juan reached over and grabbed it from my hand.
“They do…in their own way.”
“I guess I can understand that…it’s why my mom tears Mallory down. She sees her as a threat to me, or my position in my stepdad’s eyes. For a long time, she tried to get me free of this by marrying me off to a wealthy, connected man.” I ducked my head, feeling shame wash over me. What must Juan think of my mother and me? He had called her a gold digger last spring…he wasn’t wrong, but it clearly showed his opinion of her.
“Speaking of…your father will be here in a while, and before then, I need to talk to you.” Whiskey eyes settled on mine, reflecting the same fear and confusion I had about how all this would work out.
I nodded my agreement and allowed him to grab my hand and help me up.
“Where are we going?”
“Somewhere private.”
Chapter Eighteen
Settling into the plush chair near Juan’s window, I suddenly wasn’t feeling so bad that he had chosen to sleep in it the night prior. The buttery fabric was soft and instantly relaxed me. I noticed someone had brought up its twin, positioning it right next to the one already stationed there so there were two by his large window. My heart jumped a little at the notion that he’d thought of this, of sharing his space with me, for however long this ruse lasted.
“We don’t have long. Tell me the basics first,” Juan said, propping his elbow on the arm of the chair and resting his knuckles under his chin.
I let out a tiny sigh, leaning back into the plush cushion. “My father is Ivan Varga, or as you referred to him last night, Ördög.” I watched as Juan’s eyes stayed steady on me, encouraging me to keep going. “I found out I was promised to Markos Mariano when I was thirteen years old. The custody arrangement at the time was that my father had me every summer…my mother used to joke that the custody was just a string my father liked to pull on when he grew bored or wanted to punish her. It didn’t really mean anything to him, seeing as he could easily take me whenever he wanted, but it worked for his schedule to only have me a few months at a time. Anyway, when I learned about the arrangement, I went back to my mother and begged her to find a way to get me out of visits.”
“Your father went along with it?” Juan asked, leaning down to grab my ankle. He pulled my bare foot into his lap and began rubbing the soles of my feet, and while it was still early in the morning, they were already aching.
“Uh…” I wet my lips, pushing past the urge to moan. “With one condition: I return when I turn twenty-one and agree to marry Markos. My mother agreed, so did I…but then she immediately married Charlie, thinking the wealth and power would help create a buffer of protection for us both, mainly me.”
Juan’s eyes went wide and his lips parted as though he was finally connecting the dots. Yes, my mother was a gold digger, but she would have done anything to protect me. No one would ever know that she had fought it, that she hadn’t even meant to meet Charlie, or that he had fallen for her, offering his riches before she ever had a chance to steal them.
“Being married to Charlie did shield us. He was there that night I came back after hearing about Markos. I was sobbing on the floor of our one-bedroom apartment…Mom and I had shared a bed…we were so poor, but still I preferred it to visiting my father. That weekend, he’d stayed local instead of going back to New York. He had planned to deliver a reminder to a family that had forgotten where their loyalty lay. Markos had shown up to assist my father…he…” I couldn’t even bring myself to say out loud the horrors I had witnessed that night, why I hadn’t been able to stop crying or screaming, why I couldn’t risk being married off any sooner. “Anyway, Charlie made sure we had extra security around us at all times…not just because we were the heirs to a massive fortune, but because of Ivan and his wolves.”
“Which is why the townhouse was always occupied by his security team,” Juan mused.
I nodded. “I tried everything to get myself out of this, which is why I tried to take over the New York office for Charlie last spring…I was terrified to go back to the city, but I thought if I had a position of power, my father would leave me alone. In the end, I was just a fool playing a game, like a little girl wearing her mother’s shoes and pearls.”
I tucked hair behind my ears, hating how my face heated. The shame from all my antics, how much I had left Mallory out of…how much I was willing to take from her father, just to keep myself safe.
“So, what’s your real name then? Taylor isn’t Hungarian…neither is Beck.” Juan smirked, moving his hands up my calf. I wore shorts or a dress most days due to the humidity, and I was never more grateful for that than right in this moment.
“My name is Aurelia Varga. I changed it after my mother left with me and put me in public school. Kids made fun of me, and I didn’t want my father’s enemies to come for me. So, I picked names from celebrities I followed at the time.”
The man rubbing my foot narrowed his eyes, his dark brows wrinkling. “Taylor…and Beck?”
My face warmed as he attempted to figure out my childhood obsessions.
“Taylor Swift?” His eyebrow rose.
I covered my face. “Yes. Oh my god, don’t make fun of me.”
“And…what’s Beck from?”
“I was obsessed with David Beckham,” I confessed through parted fingers, barely revealing my tomato red face.
“My, my, my…” Juan chided, shaking his head.
I tried to kick him in the chest with my foot, but he grabbed my ankle with one hand and slid his other up my leg.
The heat from his fingers burned my skin, leaving me fevered. My hormones were so intense that even the lightest, playful touch was getting me worked up.
“So…” I tugged my foot free. “Your turn.”
Tan hands tunneled through raven hair, forcing the wayward pieces back. It was a really fucking hot move, and I wanted him to do it again and again, preferably while I touched myself.
“Maria, your aunt, told me a little bit about your mom, and your dad…or dads…” I tugged on the hem of my shorts. “Seems we have a similar past.”
Juan nodded, watching my fingers play with loose strings.
“When we came back to the States, my mother was still tied to El Peligro, whether she wanted to be or not. She had little choice, same with Leo, the man she married. Manuel wasn’t easy on us and was constantly taking me without their permission. He’d force me to watch everything he did, make shipments, meet with clients, get drinks with associates. He’d even fuck while I stayed outside the room in the hall, listening to every disgusting sound happening on the other side. He was a rough man, and I’ll never forget him opening the door once and seeing the woman inside, crying while dabbing at her bleeding lip.”
“I’m sorry you went through that.” I ducked my head, wishing I could have somehow protected him from seeing or hearing what he did.
“Something tells me you went through a few things similar. Otherwise you’d be outraged, not just sorry.”
My eyes bounced up, meeting his, truly seeing him for who he was, what they’d made him into. It was like looking in the mirror, seeing someone who finally found the tucked-away piec
es of yourself, the ones you hoped no one would ever find…only to find they had the same exact ones.
“My father used to teach me lessons,” I mumbled, unsure if I wanted to confess this.
Juan captured my other foot and began rubbing slow circles into the soles.
“What kind of lessons?”
“The kind where I shot innocent animals and stayed in the room while they bled out.”
“Fuck,” Juan whispered, shaking his head.
I lifted my shoulder. “We’re a fucked-up duo, aren’t we?”
His eyes bounced back up, seizing me. “We are.”
“So, what’s next?” I eyed the desk clock and saw that we were running out of time.
“Now, we run with this lie until everyone believes it. Your dad needs to trust there’s an actual shot at a deal being brokered here, otherwise he’ll find a way around it and kidnap you.”
“But this is going to mess up your whole life, Juan. The only way he’ll believe it is if you step into the role your father had, right?”
Juan’s head dipped, hiding his eyes from me.
I pulled my foot free and moved until I was sitting on my knees in front of him, my hand cupping his jaw.
“I can’t ask you to do this. I knew this was coming. I’m strong—his darkness doesn’t scare me anymore.”
He lifted his face, bringing his palm to cover mine, pinning us in place. “You’re a fucking liar. I can see it in your eyes, in the way your limbs shake and your lips thin. You’re terrified, if not for you then for your baby.”
“It’s my issue, not yours. I can’t ask you to do this.” My voice cracked, betraying how much this hurt. I hated that he was being put in this position, that he was choosing this.
His forehead pressed into mine, our hands still connected on his face, our lips dangerously close. “You didn’t ask me to do it. Stop saying that, preciosa. You didn’t ask, and I wish you would have. I wish you could see how badly I need you to ask.”
His lips parted to say something else, but someone knocked on the door, and his head turned toward the sound.