SPIDER'S WEB

by Dani Matthews

  A minute later, we enter the club, and the tension I’d felt moments earlier begins to dissipate. Del Toro may have demanded my presence tonight, but I have no intention of acting like his damned pet. If I’m going to be at the club, I might as well enjoy it. Besides, what fun would it be if he had his way entirely? That would be too easy, and I’m determined to make this ridiculous plan of his as difficult as possible. Embarrassing my father is a waste of time. I just want this done and over with, but Del Toro is insisting on doing this slowly, and as much as it pains me to go along with it, I have no choice.

  However, I can choose to navigate the process on my own terms. When this is over, I want to look back on my decisions and know that I stayed true to who I am and didn’t allow myself to be swept up into the darkness of this charade.

  As I walk to the nearest bar in the packed club, Tomàs is like a dark shadow that I can’t escape. Patiently, I wait my turn and pretend he isn’t there. Tomàs, on the other hand, simply lifts his hand and signals to one of the bartenders. His hand presses against the small of my back, lightly nudging me forward.

  I’m appalled that he’s moving me in front of those that had been waiting, and my face flushes a deep scarlet as I receive annoyed looks from the other clubgoers. The male bartender leans over the bar expectantly, waiting for my order.

  “I’ll take a Seven and Seven, please.” I don’t plan on drinking much of it since I want to keep my head clear tonight.

  The bartender nods and turns away to fill my order.

  While I wait, I avoid meeting anyone’s gaze and wish I could fade into the background. As soon as the bartender hands me my drink, Tomàs pays the bartender before I am able to. I use his momentary distraction to turn on my heel and make my way through the crowd towards the dance floor. As I squeeze past warm bodies, Tomàs catches up to me.

  His voice cuts in over the loud music. “Miss Herrera—”

  “Catalina,” I correct sharply, moving around an arguing couple.

  I don’t know how he manages it, but he quickly moves in front of me, cutting off my chosen path. I have no choice but to come to an abrupt halt. He gives me a warning look. “You’re playing with fire.”

  I take a casual sip of my drink as my eyes hold his. “Then let me burn.”

  “You really should—”

  “Dance,” I cut in. “I want to dance. I’m not a puppet, and if I want to dance before I have to play his charade, then I’m going to.” I tilt my head and peer up at him. “Am I to look as if I’m having fun or appear miserable?”

  A muscle spasms in his jaw, but he says nothing.

  “I thought so.” But then my empathy for him has me relenting a little. He’s only trying to do his job, and I look at him with exasperation. “I’ll play my part, Tomàs. But first, I want to relax before I’m stuck with him for the evening.”

  Something akin to amusement lurks deep within his eyes, and his stern expression lifts a little. “I don’t believe a woman has ever dreaded an evening with him.”

  “He’s long overdue for someone to be immune to his charms. I’ll come up to the balcony when I’m finished dancing,” I tell him.

  His expression turns almost sympathetic. “He’s not going to be happy.”

  “He’ll get over it.” With that said, I turn and make my way through the crowd until I reach the dance floor. Then, for good measure, I continue squeezing my way through the gyrating bodies. I want to be in the center of the crowd as the strobe lights flash, and the bass thunders above and within in my chest.

  I hold onto my drink and move to the music. I’m not an avid dancer, but I can move. The music is fast and upbeat, and for a brief moment, I can forget that Zac is gone and I’m caught up in such a precarious predicament. But then reality seeps in, and I know my time is limited.

  While I dance the next few songs, a couple of guys try to move in on me, but after flashing them a cutting look that states they aren’t welcome, they move on. Zac had once told me that when I’m unhappy, I have a resting bitch face. I guess I’m good at making others aware of my mood when I’m upset—which was once a rarity. I’d always been a naturally upbeat person except for the few times a situation called for my temper to appear. Lately though, I haven’t had a damned thing to smile about, so I guess my resting bitch face is closer to the surface these days.

  I knew he’d come for me, but I’m still a bit startled and nearly drop my drink when a firm hand grasps my hip, and a masculine body invades my personal space. His expensive cologne infiltrates my senses. “You little idiot,” he growls in my ear as his body crowds mine from behind.

  Before I can reply, he begins steering me through the packed dance floor, his hard body brushing against my back. I have no choice but to continue walking or stumble, and my hackles rise. So have my damn hormones. The body at my back is hard in all the right places and radiates strength. This man is an asshole wrapped in a beautiful package.

  As soon as we exit the dance floor, I step away from him as much as he’ll allow since that damned hand hasn’t released my hip. I spear him a glare as we walk, and it galls me that I have to tilt my head to peer at him. Even in my high heels, he’s still quite a bit taller. “Can’t handle a woman that has an independent streak?” I can’t resist taunting. Have I mentioned that when I’m angry I tend to get a little mouthy?

  His eyes glint dangerously as he guides me through the crowd. “I have an issue when a woman would rather frolic with boys than make good on her end of the deal.”

  It’s a struggle not to roll my eyes. “I pity the woman who ends up with you. Or will that too be a business arrangement?” Shit. I probably just took it a little too far. I instantly regret it, but it’s too late now.

  His hand tightens on my hip, and he’s not very gentle as he steers me out of the way and close to the nearest wall. Much to my complete shock, he spins me around so that my back is pressed into the solid wall behind me. I’ve spilled my drink but still manage to keep a hold of the glass. He crowds me, his expression darkly ominous. “You don’t know a damned thing about me.”

  “I’ve—” My voice is smothered as his lips come down hard on mine, and my words slide back down my throat. His tongue has invaded my mouth, and even as it dances seductively, it’s still punishing as he controls the kiss and grips my hips hard. My hand tightens around the cool glass of my drink while the other flutters at my side as I struggle with dueling reactions. I want to dump the rest of my drink on him and smack him for having such nerve, but yet I can’t deny that the kiss is oddly…erotic.

  An image of Zac flashes in my mind, and I gasp into his mouth and force my free hand between our chests, trying to push him away as I try to close my lips.

  He abruptly ends the kiss, but his lips linger near the corner of my mouth before sliding to my ear. One of his hands has risen to slip into my hair, holding the back of my head in place so I can’t move. “You’re here to play a part. Don’t fuck it up,” he says in a deep, precise tone as his breath stirs the fine hairs around my ear.

  I draw in a deep, shuddering breath and sweep my eyes upwards to meet his. “I don’t enjoy being manhandled,” I hiss, hating that I’m still intensely aware of his taste lingering in my mouth.

  “Then no more games.”

  My eyebrows snap together. “This entire charade is a damned game.”

  His eyes bore into mine. “You agreed to play.”

  “Back off,” I snap, still aggravated that his hard body is pressing against my soft curves.

  “Come along, gatita pequeña. We have a long evening ahead of us,” he muses as he releases me and eases back. He then mockingly motions for me to politely lead the way.

  I hate him. He’s right there a notch below my father. “I’m not your little kitten,” I say through gritted teeth before I step away from him and calmly navigate the club with him following close behind.

  It’s not until we’ve reached the private balcony, and approach the booth, that I’ve managed to pull toge
ther my composure. He has me rattled, but I refuse to let him see it. We sit down in the booth, and he leaves a few inches between us instead of invading my personal space.

  The bartender manning the private bar tonight approaches and promptly places a drink in front of him. His eyes flicker to my glass, noting that it’s still more than half full before he politely moves away, stationing himself behind the mini bar.

  I draw in a calm breath and take a sip of the cool liquid, enjoying the refreshing taste of 7up with a hint of whiskey. When I glance at Nikolas, I find him observing me with those unnerving eyes. Yes, he’s no longer Del Toro to me. Not after that kiss. “So how long are we going to do this, Nikolas?” I ask purposefully.

  “As long as it takes.”

  I’m not one to give up, and I stare him down. “I get the impression that this is personal for you.”

  He regards me silently and lifts his glass to his lips, taking a sip. Instead of responding to my statement, his eyes deliberately roam my face, and then drop to the plunging neckline of my top. “You look nice tonight,” he comments, effectively changing the subject.

  I glance at his navy blue, long-sleeved shirt that has the first two buttons undone, revealing his tanned throat. He’d paired the shirt with black pants. The look is very sophisticated. “You look…practical. Tell me, Nikolas, do you even own a pair of jeans?” I ask, careful to keep my tone curious rather than condescending.

  “Would you like to look inside my closet, Catalina?” he asks in a smooth, deeply masculine voice. Before I can respond, a frown flickers across his face. He reaches into his pocket and withdraws his phone, glancing at the screen. “Stay put,” he orders before lithely rising to his feet and striding away, the phone pressed to his ear.

  I stare after him, disbelief etched across my face as I watch him disappear down the stairwell and out of sight. I’m now left alone in the VIP booth, and I’m more than a little miffed at being ordered about like a pet.

  My eyes settle on Tomàs, who is stationed at the top of the stairs where he can keep me in his line of sight. His face is expressionless as he watches me.

  Turning away, I reach for my drink and gaze out at the club. I’d known tonight was going to be difficult, but I hadn’t expected Nikolas to be so…physical. I’d thought I’d had the upper hand until he’d pushed me against that wall and kissed me. I should have known better, but I can’t resist baiting the man. He aggravates the hell out of me. He’s too confident, too dangerous, too…I’m not going there. I refuse to think about the attraction I feel towards him.

  As much as I hate awaiting his return, I force myself to stay in the booth and watch the clubgoers below. He’s right, I do have to uphold my end of the agreement, but I certainly don’t like it. Unfortunately, this is what it’ll take to eliminate everything standing in my way of a private—and hopefully happy, life. I’ll never survive living in my father’s world, and the only safe way to leave it all behind is by trusting Nikolas to do his part.

  I’m not sure how much time has passed when he returns. Without so much as an apology, he eases into the booth and leans in, catching me off guard as his lips claim mine in a tantalizing kiss. For some reason, I find myself instantly reacting to the kiss before I can stop myself. His tongue strokes mine in a rhythm that causes a pleasant hum to warm me from the inside out.

  When Nikolas ends the kiss, I draw back as reality slams into me. As much as I want to hit him for making me feel this way, I calmly pick up my drink and take a sip, my eyes focusing on the club. I’m certain that kiss hadn’t been all for show. He’s baiting me as I had done with him earlier.

  I make no comment as I refuse to rise to it, while in the inside, my soul is crumbling to pieces over what feels like another betrayal to Zac.

  * * *

  It’s late and sleep is elusive tonight.

  The evening keeps replaying over and over in my mind, especially the kisses. My lungs constrict as I struggle with the shame that I feel. I know Zac would never hold it against me, but I shouldn’t be responding to anyone’s advances, not this soon after his death.

  The guilt that weighs heavily upon me sinks deeper into my chest and soul. He’s dead because of me. Yes, it was my father who’d given the order to kill him, but if we’d never met, he wouldn’t be lying in a grave.

  Familiar tears sting my eyes, and I shift onto my side, swallowing past a lump as I gaze at the alarm clock next to the bed. I’ve cried so much in the past six months that I’m amazed there’s still tears left to shed.

  God, I miss Zac so much. Everything was so easy with him. He was always there, and he’d chased away the loneliness that had followed me through the years. Having grown up in boarding schools, I was always feeling lonely. The other kids just didn’t seem to understand me, and I’d found it difficult to fit in. Sure, I had friends here and there, but no one I grew close with. Even in my teen years, no one truly got to know the girl behind the pretty, polite mask. Then, in college, Zac was the only one that saw through the expensive clothing and saw the true woman beneath.

  Now I’m alone once more.

  Alone and numb.

  Since the moment I’d learned the truth about Zac’s death, there’s been this numb sensation deep within. Truthfully, that numbness has helped me get to the point where I can almost taste the downfall of my father’s empire. It made it easier to slip away from the engagement party and make my way here to Los Angeles. It gave me confidence to approach Nikolas, to suggest my help with taking down my father.

  I think back to those weeks when I would hide in the hidden cubby in my father’s office—learning that my life was nothing but a lie.

  I hadn’t been brought back to my father’s compound out of compassion after my suicide attempt. No, he’d brought me back so that he could guarantee that I would never attempt anything so foolish again. Eventually, once it became apparent that I was on the mend, the monitors that he’d hired to keep watch over me were let go. That gave me free time to explore the estate. I’d never been there before, and it gave me something to focus on.

  I certainly hadn’t expected to learn that most rooms had hidden cubbyhole’s, some even had tunnels to a panic room. Since I was never allowed in my father’s office, it was the first place I wanted to sneak into. When I’d found a small tunnel leading there from the guest room, I’d crawled through until I found myself in a little cubby hidden within the large, ornate shelving unit.

  I’d already suspected he was keeping things from me, and I’d always been suspicious of what he truly did and how he’d earned his wealth. So when he’d leave the compound, I would use the crawl space and sneak into his office. Because of the security on the premises, and the fact that he always locked his office door, he was confident that nothing would be touched. His computer was impossible to crack at first, but soon I began to take more chances and sneak into the cubby when he was home so I could spy on him. After listening to numerous conversations, I finally figured out his password.

  That wasn’t the biggest reveal, though. He had a leather-bound notebook in his desk with handwritten notes and records. Evidently, my father wasn’t one-hundred percent confident that his electronics couldn’t be hacked. I poured over the notebook and files on his computer. I began to memorize everything when I realized just how corrupted he was. I knew I’d need the information at some point, because I was already feeling like a prisoner. There was doubt forming that I wasn’t there for my wellbeing, and that there was more to it than fatherly concern.

  More weeks went by until I learned everything. It became clear that I was going to be handed off—willingly or not—to Miguel Navarez. The worst was learning that my father gave the order to have Zac removed from my life—permanently. What little was left of me died that day.

  So here I am, desperate to control my own life and to get away from my father and this world of corruption.

  With a soft sigh, I roll onto my back and stare up at the dark ceiling. Someday, everything will be different�
�I hope. Maybe one day, I’ll wake up and be content with the direction my life has taken. Until then, all I can do is navigate this situation with Nikolas the best that I can.

  Six

  Catalina

  It’s been a week since that evening with Nikolas at the club. Since then, I’ve found an apartment in my price range and have checked out of the hotel. Tomàs has been assigned to me, and he spends most of his time in the hallway outside my apartment. Sometimes I feel bad for him. He must be so bored out there, but I’m also not about to offer him the sofa. I barely know the man.

  I’ve also been given a cell phone so that Nikolas can contact me when he wants. The only contact we’ve had all week is once through text messaging. I gave him more information, and I’m sure he’d acted on it. Other than that, I’ve been left to my own devices this week, and it’s been wonderful.

  For the first time in a long time, I don’t have to look over my shoulder or plan for an escape. I’m not completely free yet, but I will be soon. Until then, at least I have my own place, and I can come and go as I please. However, that hasn’t really been an option this week. I’ve stayed in the apartment most of the time, simply trying to adjust to the new changes. Not to mention I’m trying to come down from the anxiety that’s plagued me for weeks. I still feel anxious sometimes, but I feel reasonably safe now and no longer expect my father’s men to burst through the door and drag me back.

  I walk into the kitchen and open the refrigerator, pulling out an apple. Then, I turn and gaze around the apartment as I take a bite. It has an open concept, so the kitchen and living room are combined and there is a narrow hall leading back to the bathroom and bedroom. The main room is still mostly empty but for a plush, navy blue sofa, and a brown end table. My laptop happens to be currently sitting on it. One of these days, I’ll probably buy a lamp to set on the table, but between something to sit on out here, and having a bed, I haven’t done much shopping. These are all things that won’t be going with me when I leave at the end of all this, so there’s no point in overspending.