Tomàs sighs from where he stands behind me. “I’ll handle this, Eric.”
The guard—Eric—nods and then walks away without a backward glance.
I turn on Tomàs with frustration. “Why is it a big deal that I speak with Nikolas?”
“It’s not, but when he’s off the property, he’s busy. We generally try not to interrupt him unless it’s an emergency. You can speak with him when he returns.”
“That might not be until late tonight.” Or not at all, I think silently. He’s very good at avoiding me when he doesn’t want to deal with the consequences of having me here. “Seriously, Tomàs, I need to talk to someone if I can’t speak to Nikolas,” I say, trying to keep my tone reasonable.
“You can speak with me.”
I give him a look. “Do you have permission to take me off the property?”
“No.”
“Then talking to you does nothing to solve my problem. Who gives the permission that I need? Whomever keeps this place running while Nikolas is gone?” I persist.
“Santos can’t make that decision, either. You’ll have to wait.”
“Santos?” I ask, latching onto the unfamiliar name. “He’s the man in charge? Can I speak with him? Please,” I add.
Tomàs studies me. “You won’t like Santos. And he certainly won’t give you what you want.”
“Then what does it matter if I speak to him?” I ask, raising my eyebrows as I wait.
His expression is unreadable, so I have no idea what he’s thinking. “Very well, but you’ve been warned.”
I’m relieved that I’d won the argument, but I keep my composure and nod. “Thank you, Tomàs.”
He leads me upstairs to the second floor, and I look around with interest since this level is off limits to me. I don’t get to see much though, because I’m led down a hallway with very few doors.
Tomàs brings us to a stop in front of a closed door at the end, and he curtly knocks.
“Yes?” A masculine voice asks from inside.
“Miss Herrera would like a word,” Tomàs informs.
There’s a brief moment of silence. “I’m busy,” the voice replies in a hard tone.
I blink with surprise before scowling. What does this Santos person have against me? The polite thing to do would be to at least hear me out.
“I told you,” Tomas says patiently to me. “Now you’ve tried and failed. Let’s go.”
Like hell.
Before Tomàs can stop me, I yank the door open and stride into the office without invitation. The office is smaller than I anticipated, and the walls are painted a grayish blue with two, black and white, scenic city photos of Los Angeles in large frames adorning the walls. There’s one window, a filing cabinet, and a brown desk stationed in the center of the room with a single chair across from it. The man sitting behind it is younger than I was expecting, but then again, Nikolas isn’t your typical cartel leader age, either.
The man, Santos, isn’t wearing business attire like Nikolas seems to prefer. Instead of a suit, he’s wearing a tee that shows off his broad shoulders and strong chest. I don’t know what he’s wearing behind the desk, probably jeans. His dark blond hair is longer than Nikolas’s and slightly messy, as if he has a tendency to rake his hands through it. Stubble lines his jaw, and hazel eyes gaze at me coldly from where he sits. He looks downright mean. Nikolas is at least tolerant even when he doesn’t want to be.
His eyes shift to Tomàs with displeasure. “What’s the meaning of this?” he asks, his voice deep with a definite edge to it. This man, he’s emanates physically brutality. Whereas Nikolas doesn’t seem prone to violent actions without good reason, this man looks like he acts on his emotions for the pleasure of it.
“She’s leaving,” Tomàs says briskly, reaching for me.
I really should listen to him, because I have no idea how Santos will react to being challenged, but I also came up here for a reason. I put my hand up and give Tomàs a warning look. “Don’t touch me. I mean it,” I warn.
A muscle begins to pulse in his cheek before his eyes slide to Santos. “I have orders to take care when it comes to her personal space,” he says in a tight voice.
I turn to Santos and look at him steadily. “All I want is to speak to Nikolas.”
He’s already shaking his head. “You can when he returns.”
“I want my cell phone back.” I keep asking for it, but Tomàs just tells me that Nikolas will give it to me when he’s ready. I’m assuming it was taken away to prevent me from blowing up his phone with calls and text messages. This way, he can easily ignore me.
Well, not today.
“Ask him when he returns,” Santos says in a slow and precise tone. His expression is darkening, and I sense that he’s struggling with his temper.
I don’t want to resort to childish antics, but I am at my wits end. I’m done playing the meek, injured houseguest/prisoner. There’s a chair across from his desk, and I walk over and calmly plant myself in it. Then, I cross my legs and smile pleasantly at him. “A phone call is all that I’m asking for, and then I will give you back your privacy.”
“Tomàs,” he growls, motioning that he’s finished with the drama and that I’m to be removed.
“If he touches me without my consent, I can and will inform Nikolas of this situation and that I was manhandled,” I warn.
Santos looks like he wants to throttle me. If looks could kill, I’d be deader than dead. Without breaking eye contact with me, he reaches for the phone on his desk. “I’m only doing this because I don’t have time to deal with your foolishness,” he says coldly, bringing the receiver to his ear.
“Of course,” I say, careful to keep my expression composed without a hint of triumph showing.
He presses a button on the base and then leans back in his chair, eyes burning holes into mine. “Miss Herrera insists on speaking with you,” he says flatly into the phone. He listens a moment, and then his lips tighten as his expression becomes annoyed. He leans across the desk and extends the phone to me without so much as a word.
“Why thank you,” I say kindly as I accept it and bring it to my ear. “Nikolas,” I greet into the phone.
“Catalina,” he says, sounding amused. “Are you being difficult?”
“What else is there to do?” I ask, aware of the two men watching me and listening to my side of the conversation. “I’d like to go out tonight. I’m aware the club is the safest establishment, so I’m fine with going there.”
He sighs into my ear. “We’ve discussed this.”
“No, you ordered it. There was no discussion,” I counter back.
“Liar. I listened to your defense, I just didn’t give in.”
“Well, now you’re going to listen again. I need to get out of here to unwind, or I am going to go mad. If you can’t make that happen, I’m going to find my own ways to amuse myself,” my eyes shift to Santos, “and your men won’t find it quite as enjoyable as I will. Besides, don’t you want my father to see that I’m very much alive? What if he thinks he’s won? You know he has spies everywhere, and since I haven’t been out in public…” I deliberately allow my voice to trail off.
Nikolas is completely silent on the other end of the line, and I patiently wait to see what he’ll decide.
“I’ll think on it.” Click.
I’m amused as I hand the phone back to Santos. “I’ll let you return to what you were doing,” I tell him as I rise to my feet.
“How kind of you,” he says icily.
I exit the office with Tomàs on my heels.
* * *
That evening, I am in the limo with Nikolas as we’re taken to the club. I’m not sure what I was expecting after the patio incident. He’s not as cold and indifferent towards me as he’s been in the past, but he isn’t friendlier, either. Just more relaxed.
I’m wearing the dress I’d worn the first night I’d tracked him down at the club since my wardrobe is minimal. Shopping for clothing hasn’t
been a top priority of mine.
Nikolas, on the other hand, is dressed for business rather than a night out. That still doesn’t diminish his handsomeness by any means. He glances at me and catches me watching him. “I have a few meetings that I’ve relocated to a private room at the club. You’ll be on your own most of the evening.” His eyes hold mine. “You’re not to step foot outside the VIP area.”
There he goes again, bossy as usual. Though tonight, I’m a little more tolerant of it after what had happened at the bar, and at my apartment. “Agreed. Unless I have to use the restroom,” I add.
His eyes bore into mine. “Try not to.”
I roll my eyes at him. Men.
He seems to have nothing more to say and turns his attention back to his phone. If he’s not talking to someone, he’s usually doing something on it. Probably checking his calendar or scheduling meetings.
I’d thought he might bring up last night but hasn’t, and I’m more than okay with that.
When we arrive at the club, we enter through the back entrance. Nikolas stays close to me until I am safely situated in the booth—his private bartender patiently waiting to bring me anything I ask. Tonight, there are no public displays of affection. I suppose his attentiveness is enough for prying eyes.
After he takes his leave, Tomàs and two other security guards are stationed nearby. The bartender inquires if he can get me anything, and I request a soda. If he’s surprised, he hides it well.
Once I have my drink in hand, I relax and let the club music wash over me. The tension that had been building the past few days is beginning to diminish now that I’m out and about. It also helps to know that whoever is feeding my father information will be informing him that I am still very much alive.
As the evening wears on, I can’t help but wonder if the club is a front of sorts for the cartel, or if it’s legitimate. I know Nikolas is a partner, so I wonder if the other partner is involved with illegal business dealings or if he’s clean. My earlier research hadn’t given me the answer, but I’m not about to ask.
I sip my soda and think about how much my life has changed in the past six months. I went from being a carefree college student in love with a good man, to a woman hellbent on revenge and seeking help from a dangerous rival of my father’s.
Someday, I hope to go back to college and finish my classes. That’ll be the first thing I do once I relocate overseas. I’m looking forward to going back to some sense of normalcy once this is all over. I just hope that I’ll find a way to be happy again.
I’m still lost in thought when Nikolas approaches with a half-full glass in hand. He sits down beside me, and I look at him with surprise. “I thought you had meetings,” I say over the music.
He takes a drink before setting the glass on the table. “I did. We’ll be leaving shortly.”
Evidently, I’d lost track of time and more had passed than I’d realized.
“Have you been enjoying yourself?” he inquires.
“Yes. It’s been nice.”
He nods to the dance floor. “You’d prefer to be down there?”
I glance at the gyrating bodies down below as the strobe lights flicker over them. “Not tonight. I just want to relax and enjoy the atmosphere.”
His eyes sharpen. “Are you in pain?”
“No, I’m fine,” I assure. Actually, my shoulder is throbbing a bit, but I’m not going to tell him that. For once, Nikolas seems sociable, and I want to take advantage of it. “Why did you choose Santos to be in charge when you’re not around?” I ask curiously, hoping to pry more information out of him.
He eyes me as if he thinks it’s a trick question of some sort. “Why wouldn’t I?” he returns.
“I mean, have you guys known each other long? If you trust him to be in charge when you’re not around, he must be important to you. Or is it just business, and he happens to be good at it?”
He regards me with keen interest, as if he’s trying to see inside my head. He’s no doubt suspicious and wondering if I’m trying to pry information out of him to use against him. We really don’t trust each other, and yet we’re working together with only one goal in mind. It’s a strange partnership.
“I’m just curious. We kind of got off on the wrong foot today,” I say lightly, reaching for my glass and taking a sip of the soda. The bartender had refilled it a short time ago.
The momentary suspicion fades from his eyes. “Santos doesn’t like anyone, so you’re in good company.”
“Good to know,” I muse.
“We have history together, so it’s not all business for us,” he says, answering my question.
I nod and decide not to pry further. I’m just trying to get to know him and have no intention of using it against him, but he doesn’t know that. “So what do you do to relax and unwind?”
A dark eyebrow rises.
“I’m referring to when you’re not doing business. Most men have hobbies, do you?” I ask, unable to curb my genuine curiosity.
He picks up his glass, swirling the liquid as his gaze stays focused on mine. “I don’t have hobbies.”
“Then what do you do?” I press.
He shrugs and takes a drink before placing the glass back on the table. “Everything is business-related. I only come to the club to make an appearance and be sociable, but it isn’t something I enjoy. If I’m not dealing with something related to business or making appearances, I’m eating, sleeping, or using the gym.”
I stare at him. “You don’t do anything for just the enjoyment of it?”
He cocks a sardonic eyebrow. “Do I look like a man that spends his time frivolously?”
“No. But if you don’t enjoy life, what’s the point in living?” I ask bluntly.
He says nothing and picks up his glass, finishing the last of his drink.
“I’m serious. Doesn’t it bother you having to do something versus wanting to do it?”
He looks at me with a hint of amused resignation. “Ah, Gatita. You are so young.” Before my hackles can rise, he continues, “I enjoy poker. I attend a game or two with associates once a month, and I genuinely enjoy the game. In fact, one is coming up in the next few days.”
He’d answered my question, so I decide not to comment over the jibe about my age. I don’t want the conversation to end just yet, so I blurt the first thing that pops into my head. “I don’t know where you found Mavis, but I really like her.”
That brings a natural smile to his face, and I swear, somewhere inside me something melts. “Mavis is one of a kind.”
I nod in agreement, ignoring how attractive he is. “She likes to care for others.”
“She’s a nurturer,” he agrees.
“Do you have any family?” I inquire before I realize the question might bring the conversation to a screeching halt.
His expression promptly shuts down. “We should head back to the estate. Tomàs has already requested Sergio to bring the limo around out back.”
I’m disappointed but hide it well. As we leave the booth and make our way through the club with security remaining close, I note that Nikolas hadn’t asked any personal questions about myself. It’s a reminder that I need to keep my guard up around him, because he still sees me as just a pawn. It bothers me, and I wish it didn’t.
Once we’re inside the limo, Nikolas has his phone out and is focused on the screen. The sight of it reminds me that mine seems to be missing.
“Will I be getting my phone back?” I ask, breaking the silence.
He glances at me, his expression distracted. “There’s no need now that you’re staying on the premises.”
I give him a look. “I need a phone.”
His attention returns to his own. “So that you can try calling a cab or Uber to take you somewhere? Let’s not go there, Gatita.”
“You said you weren’t going to treat me like a prisoner, Nikolas.”
His eyes remain on his phone’s screen. “This is temporary. It won’t be like this forever, an
d before you know it, you’ll be overseas and this will all be behind you. Focus on the endgame, not how much you dislike getting there.”
My teeth grind, and I just can’t let it go. “We had an agreement, and if I feel like I’m being held against my will, we’re going to have a major problem.”
He sets his phone aside and gives me his full attention. “Do you enjoy breathing, Catalina?” he asks deliberately.
I narrow my eyes.
“I’ve saved that ass of yours twice,” he reminds. “Once, because you didn’t follow Tomàs’s warning and put yourself in a vulnerable situation. Your father is not playing around. You took a bullet five days ago, or have you already forgotten? Is it more important to flaunt your independence to me or to reach your goal of freedom from your father?”
Ugh. I hate how this always gets spun around so that it appears I’m acting foolishly. It’s just so damn hard to follow his rules because he’s the one issuing them. There’s just something inside me that wants to call him out on everything.
“How did you get all the information you have stored inside that head of yours?” Nikolas asks, his expression undecipherable as he waits to see if I’ll answer the question.
My first thought is to tell him that it doesn’t matter, but thankfully, I take a moment to think over his question. We’ve been tiptoeing around each other from the very beginning. Neither of us trusts each other or has willingly confided in the other about anything of importance. One of us is going to have to take the first step if anything is going to change. If he continues dragging this out with my father, I don’t think I can live like this for weeks, let alone months.
As much as I hate being the one to cave first, logic is telling me that it’ll never be him, so it has to be me. Maybe if I give him a little something, nothing too important, he’ll return the favor.
There’s only one way to find out.
“Six months ago, I was getting too close to my boyfriend. Things were getting serious, but my father had plans for me that I wasn’t aware of,” I begin, and Nikolas’s eyes sharpen as he focuses intently on me. “Zac was killed in front of me when we were robbed leaving a college bar.” The familiar ache burns deep in my chest at the thought of that night, and how an innocent man died simply because he’d chosen to love me. “I handled his death badly, and my father brought me home where he could keep an eye on me.” I give him a sarcastic look. “He couldn’t have me dead when he needed an heir, right? I didn’t know what was going on at that point, but I was becoming suspicious. The property my father owns has many secret tunnels, and I found one that led behind a tall book shelf that had a little cubby below. I spied on my father and learned the truth. Then, when he was gone, I would snoop around his office and memorize everything that I would need to ruin him. When the time was right, and I had a chance of running, I took it.”
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