by Mason, V. F.
Despite the chaotic environment, it’s so squeaky clean my shoes almost slip on the tile. And fragrant flowery smells float around, bringing freshness to the room.
Harold points at the chair, pulling it out. “Please sit down, miss.”
“You can call me Esme.” He nods, but by reading his expression, I know it’s not going to happen.
Ricardo places my omelet on a plate and opens the drawer, the silverware rattling before he takes out a fork and knife for me.
He puts it in front of me, and saliva forms in my mouth at the smells coming from the plate.
He wipes his hands on his apron and speaks up. “Muffins will be ready soon, and the tea is brewing.”
Oh crap, I forgot about my tea back in the room. “That’s great.”
Picking up my fork, I dig into the omelet, raise it to my mouth, and pause, noticing two sets of eyes staring at me expectantly. Amusements builds inside me at the picture they represent.
Eating it up, I groan at the taste and give Ricardo a thumbs-up, munching on my bite and digging for another one.
He beams at me. “A woman with a good appetite. Me gusto.”
“We were going to serve you in the dining room,” Harold says apologetically.
“If it’s full of portraits, I’ll pass.” Ricardo laughs at that but stops at Harold’s little nudge. “Have a seat, guys.”
They both blink in surprise, but then to my astonishment, both sit down. Usually, the staff refuses to do so.
Ricardo’s eyes fall on the ring. “He proposed.” A beat and then, “Not with a family ring either.” Harold nudges him again. “What? It’s the truth.”
“Shut your mouth,” he hisses and quickly sends a glance my way. “That’s one gorgeous ring.” He pauses and locks his hands on the table. “Better than the family one. I’m sure Lucian picked it for that reason.” The old man is really adorable trying to make sure his boss doesn’t get in trouble with me, but he doesn’t have to worry.
Family heirlooms don’t interest me.
“So you’ve been working here for a long time?” I decide to change the subject, shoveling in more of my omelet.
They both nod, but only Harold replies. “Forty-five years for Ricardo and fifty for me.” Wow. That’s some dedication to the family. “Most of our lives have been spent behind these walls.”
“I remember being a twenty-year-old boy looking for a job, but no one wanted to give it to me. Señor Alejandro took pity on me and told me to cook the best dish I could think of to impress him. Ever since then, I’m here.” Warmth coats his voice at mentioning Lucian’s grandfather, which contrasts so much with how my man spoke of him.
Harold nods. “Yes. He gave me the most important job in this house, to look after his heir, Juan, without any recommendations. I made sure he never regretted it.” Affection along with sadness laces his tone, and he sighs heavily. “Except he did. At the end of it. I failed him, and as a result, I failed Lucian.”
Everything inside me freezes, not understanding what he means. How could he have failed him if Lucian came to live with them at thirteen?
Ricardo squeezes Harold’s hand before noticing I finished my food and snatches up my plate, getting up. “Juan grew up in front of our eyes. Funny, happy, smart. It was impossible not to laugh in his company.” He places my plate in the sink and then goes to the oven, putting on mitts and taking out the muffins. “Addiction ruined all that.”
My eyes widen at this information.
Addiction?
Harold rolls his lips together before speaking up again. “Yes. Alcohol turned him into a person we no longer recognized.”
“It became the curse of this house,” Ricardo says, pouring tea in three cups before placing them on the tray and then grabbing three saucers for muffins. “Our bright boy was no more.” He strolls back to the table and then gives us all tea and dessert, dropping onto the seat again.
I’m desperately trying to understand why they would consider him a boy if they must have been close in age when it hits me.
Juan was eighteen when he fathered Lucian so he would be at least a decade younger than these guys.
“I’m so sorry for your loss.” Although their confessions raise more questions in my head about my fiancé. Reaching for Harold’s hands—whose shoulders sagged as sorrow filled his gaze—I pat him. “It’s hard to lose people you love.”
“Thank you, miss.” Before he can say anything else, a doorbell rings in the distance, and Harold pushes his chair back, getting up. “I’ll be right back.”
Sliding the mug closer to me, I debate whether to dive into the dessert or not when Ricardo breaks the silence.
Evidently he isn’t done sharing. “Harold took his addiction the hardest. Especially when it reflected on Lucian.” He breaks the muffin and dips it into his tea.
My mug pauses midway to my mouth at this information, coldness slipping into me as Lucian’s scarred body flashes in my mind, the red angry slashes marring his skin screaming about pain and hurt. “He abused him. When he got drunk. Didn’t he?”
Ricardo chokes on his muffin and spits it in his mug, splashing tea over the table and then coughs several times. “Good God.” He croaks, “Never. Alejandro and Juan would never have done such stuff. The Cortez family doesn’t go against or harm their own.”
Then who did? And what happened in the past that ruined their relationship irrevocably?
The appearance of Harold strolling back into the kitchen and holding a thick envelope breaks my train of thought, and he extends it to me. “A courier brought a package for you.”
My brows furrow, but I reach out for it anyway. “But how would the sender know I’m here? I never told anyone.” Tension swirls in the air at my admission, and Harold grips the folder too hard despite me already grabbing it. After my pull, he reluctantly allows me to take it while exchanging glances with Ricardo. “Maybe it’s another of Lucian’s surprises.” My light humor doesn’t relax them one bit. “Okay,” I mutter and then jump up, ready to check it out in my room because who knows what the man has planned? Or maybe Lila knew about his original surprise and sent me something here in advance so it would come today? “Thank you so much for the breakfast, guys. It was delicious.” I smile at Ricardo who just sighs heavily, and then I shift my attention back to Harold. “If you see Lucian, tell him I’ll be looking for him later.”
“Maybe you should open it up in his company,” he suggests, stepping away a little. “I could show you to his office. After all, wouldn’t it be better to check his surprise together.”
“No. If he went through all this trouble, then I think I should do it alone.” Too confused with their expressions that almost shout their fear, I walk around Harold and in record time get upstairs and to Lucian’s room. “Let’s see if it tops the fireworks.”
Perching on the desk, I tear the envelope and seize a letter out along with a stack of photos.
Without glancing at them, I put the photos and envelope on the desk and open the letter.
Monsters hide in the dark.
Monsters crave your blood.
Monsters stake their claim.
All while wearing their mask.
See his true face, Esmeralda.
And maybe then you’ll finally realize we’re one and the same.
Frowning at the weird riddle, I pick up the photos, and the minute my eyes land on the first one, I still, barely breathing, while fear penetrates every cell in my body along with familiar terror paralyzing me.
Chopped limbs are scattered all around while a man looms over them, holding a drill in his hands. A red liquid pool surrounds him. Footprints from his shoes lead from what used to be a man who is nailed to the wall.
Almost in a trance, I flip to another one. This one has a dark-haired man stabbing a man with a knife, whose mouth is wide open, and I can almost hear his agonized scream in my head.
Matching the one from a long time ago.
No, no. Please don’t. Please d
on’t. Run, Esme, run!
With a whimper, I cover my ears while the photos fall from my grip, smacking the floor. All of them depict cruelty and horrendous deeds in different forms and varieties of a man.
Countless dead victims, pouring blood, terror in their eyes—at least for those who were lucky enough to keep them until the very end.
Run, Esme, run!
Shaking my head, I whimper again, pressing my ears harder, hoping to wipe away the voice in this moment, and Lucian instantly comes to my mind.
I need to find him and show these to him, as whoever sent them to me has decided to engage in a sick game, probably knowing about the best-kept secret in my family.
I take a step toward the door, ready to race into the hallway when one of the photos snags my attention.
A man sits under a lamp, his face fully displayed. A sinister smile curves his mouth, and his gloved hands are smeared in blood from the knife dripping on the floor.
Hunching down, I clench it in my fists, still refusing to acknowledge what my eyes are screaming at me. I lift it closer to my face, recognizing the man and seeing him in every other photo.
His dark hair.
His muscled physique.
His style of clothes.
His tan skin.
And the whiskey glass he so loves.
The man who ruthlessly killed all these people… is Lucian.
Devastation slams into me, making me sway, and I land on my ass with a scream trapped in my throat. I fist the photo, my tears dripping on it while pain travels through me, replacing every other emotion and causing flashbacks.
Screams, blood, the knife.
The man who I agreed to marry, who became my first and who made me look at my life in a different light… engages in the same activities as the man who killed my mother… desiring to do the same to me.
His hands responsible for all this touched me, his lips kissed me, and the idea of it all makes me sick.
The bile in my throat rises and nausea hits me so hard I run to the bathroom and barely manage to reach the toilet before spilling my breakfast into it, just imagining how close I came to falling in love with this murderer.
Someone who knows him well wanted to warn me, and I have to be smart to use this warning wisely.
Coughing, I get up and turn on the sink, washing my mouth while my survival instincts that are so familiar to me kick in, and I will my mind to block away the heartbreaking emotions demanding I sink to my knees and cry until nothing is left. For daring to believe in something good, only to realize it was an illusion of a monster’s creation.
Instead, I sharpen my mind to focus on how to get away from here, scenarios swirling in my head. I remember Harold’s expression. Now his fear has merit… because these two men know what their señor engages in, which means they might tattle on me.
Twisting the faucet off, I turn on the shower instead, opening the door wide so the noises can be heard from a distance, tricking anyone into thinking I’m taking one.
Then I race back into the room and search for my torn dress, finding it under the bedcovers, and snatch my credit card along with the ID hiding in the pocket, all while removing my shoes so I won’t make a sound on the marble.
All I need to do is get outside, grab a cab, and go to the authorities. I won’t even trust that security guy Derek. They all work for monsters, and as such, they excuse his deeds because no sane man would stay by his side, knowing his twisted nature.
I grab several pictures from the stack because I will need proof to go against such a powerful man, and inhaling a deep breath, slowly crack open the door and tiptoe to the stairs while straining my ears to listen if anyone is downstairs.
Since no one makes a sound, I quickly rush down while still controlling my movements so I don’t make unnecessary noise. Once there, I go the door, exhaling in relief when no one is in sight.
Twisting the knob, I almost sob and race outside, thinking only about my mission and not how my soul shatters into tiny little pieces because the man and city that were supposed to be my sanctuary have become my nightmare.
But I should have known better, right?
Because love stories always inevitably turn into tragedies in my family.
Lucian
Harold barges into my office with Ricardo hot on his heels, worry carved on their features as they breathe heavily.
My brows rise, and I get up, slapping my hands on the table and leaning on it. “What’s going on?”
They’ve worked here the longest and are super anal about the rules made by my grandfather, so for them to come in without knocking…
Is a bad sign.
My mind at once goes to the beautiful woman I left in bed who finally slept soundly, finding peace after a restless night.
However, I’ve operated on five hours of sleep a night for a long time, so I came down to the office to fix a few issues before permanently relocating to Chicago. “Esmeralda?” I ask and they both pale.
Harold twists his hands, and Ricardo pushes him a little, urging him to speak up.
“I think I’ve made a terrible mistake.” Since I stay silent, he continues. “A package arrived here addressed to Esmeralda, and I gave it to her without thinking.”
Everything inside me stills, the hunter snarling, already feeling the deception because no one knows she’s here.
I knew he would retaliate after my appearance in her life. No hunter likes another hunter sniffing near his prey; however, the coward dared to actually contact her.
Brave enough to play games, not brave enough to come face-to-face with me.
Ricardo pitches in. “We figured it might be suspicious.”
“Didn’t I order you to come to me first if anything of that sort happens?” My tone stays deadly, and both of them avoid my eyes, gluing their gazes to the floor. “Where is she?”
“She went upstairs and stayed there.”
So whatever she saw in the package wasn’t scary then?
Just what kind of game does this maniac play?
I pass them by and stroll through the hallway, ready to go upstairs when a slight breeze brushes my cheek, and my brows furrow.
Gripping the banister, I swing my head to the side and look at the front door, not quite understanding why the image seems off.
And then I notice a little opening where the breeze enters, revealing that someone must have gone outside.
Esmeralda.
“Mierda,” I say and rush outside and throw over my shoulder at Harold, “Call Paul. Tell him to come here as soon as possible.”
My woman must have found out the truth about me and, as expected, ran.
After all, it’s one thing to say yes to Prince Charming.
Quite another to marry a villain.
Too bad for her though, this particular villain won’t let go of the princess.
For he will slay any dragons or Prince Charmings standing in his way.
Esmeralda
My feet slap against the burning hot concrete, bruising my skin in the process, but it only urges me to speed up, to run as long as I still can.
Until the monster learns about my escape, because he will come for me.
If my life has taught me one thing… it’s that they do not like to leave loose ends and always prefer to finish their disgusting deeds.
My hands fist, and gulping for more air as sweat slides down my back, I take longer strides, almost whimpering at the sight of the iron gates several feet away.
Derek sits inside the small building for the security guards where they keep an eye on the entire property with video cameras. When he spots me, he gets up, surprise flashing on his face. “Hello, miss.” I halt my movements, and his gaze travels to my bare feet as an unreadable expression crosses his face. “Is everything all right?”
Plastering a smile that hurts my mouth, I reply, “Splendid. I just have to go. Emergency back home, you know?”
“I see.”
Although surprised at his
easy manner, relief washes over me, and I walk to the small door next to the gate that’s wide open ready to step outside away from this haunting mansion.
A hand on my elbow stops me though, and he says, “I’m afraid you can’t leave without Lucian’s permission.”
Anger spikes inside me, flipping my stomach several times, and my nails dig into my palms while I hold back my true emotions that might be deadly in this moment. “We live in a free country, Derek, and I don’t need anyone’s permission but my own.” I pull at my elbow and his grip only tightens on me. “Let go!”
“I’ll have to call Lucian first.” He drags me closer to the office, but I dig my heels into the asphalt, pulling at my elbow again and finally freeing myself. I stumble back and barely keep my balance.
Then, before he can catch me again, I sprint outside moving my head from side to side as I try to see if there are any cars in the distance, but only a narrow, secluded road greets me with no one in sight.
“Miss, please get back here!” Derek shouts, already racing after me. With no other choice, I flee forward, hoping that the bulky man will get tired of following me and need to rest, and maybe if I run far enough, I might find someone.
The only thing that matters is survival. Until then even my aching muscles, hurting feet, and bleeding heart do not have a voice and are muted inside my head.
Heavy thumps follow me, more intense and less frequent than before, alerting me to Derek’s changing pace, so I push myself to speed up, using all I’ve got to run.
My lungs burn, demanding I stop and take deeper breaths, but doing that would mean giving Derek a better chance, and I will not risk it.
A gust of wind whooshes over me, blowing my hair and blocking my vision for a second, and I hear loud honking.
Pushing my hair back, my eyes widen and a scream erupts from my throat at the sight of a car in front of me, but the vehicle isn’t stopping, and fear slams into me.
It moves so rapidly I have no way of escaping.
I close my eyes only to snap them open again when strong arms wrap around my waist and lift me up, turning us to the side a second before the car stops with a screech.