by S Williams
Mrs. Molina opens her gifts one by one, and when she comes across mine, her eyes grow as wide as discs, her smile stretching. She looks up at me, and I tip my wine glass, a small smile on display.
“I can’t believe it,” she sighs. She holds up the knitting needles made of gold, carved delicately with vine and leafy designs. “They are so beautiful,” she coos.
“I knew she’d love it,” Draco murmurs. I’m glad she does. It wasn’t cheap. I was surprised they were even selling it at the market, but they had special gifts behind the counter, for the patrons looking for the more exquisite things. I’ll have to remember it the next time I go out—if I ever get the chance.
After Mrs. Molina opens all her gifts, thanking each person profusely for them, the cake is cut, the music picks up again, and people go back to the bar for more drinks. They really know how to party here. Shot after shot. Bottle after bottle.
I’ve only had three glasses of wine. I can’t do hard liquor tonight. I’m still bothered—feeling guilty about Ronaldo. I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help it. I made him a promise and couldn’t fulfill it. Whatever’s happened to him feels like it’s at least partially my fault.
“Want me to get you another drink?” I ask Draco, twisting in his lap.
He looks toward the bar, noticing it’s pretty vacant. Most people are dancing or mingling. “Yeah, reina. Go. Get yourself another, too.”
I press my lips and nod, standing up. Before I can get away, he grabs my hand and folds it over, bringing my knuckles up to his lips. He kisses them, warm brown gaze heavy on mine. I feel the hot swirl at the pit of my belly and smile.
“Hurry back,” he says.
“I will.”
I take off as Simon picks up a card from the deck and then curses through his teeth, picking up a shot glass and downing the tequila. I’m not sure what game it is, but he has to take a shot every time he plucks certain ones. Draco is winning. He’s only had two shots so far, and they’ve been playing for over an hour.
I make my way toward the bar, feeling several eyes on me. I don’t look to find out who is staring. Of course they’ll stare. They don’t know who I am, or why Draco has me so close to him. It must be an unusual thing to witness.
I stop at the bar, asking the butler for a whiskey for Draco. I decide to get another glass of wine for myself, hoping it will cool my nerves. It’s the red wine Mrs. Molina wanted from the market, and it’s delicious, not too bitter or too sweet. Just the way I like it.
“I don’t think I officially introduced myself to you,” a deep voice says behind me.
I turn quickly, meeting wicked, dark eyes. Thiago puts on a crooked smile, a neat whiskey clutched in his hand.
My heart thuds in my chest, but I keep my face even, remaining calm.
“You speak English well,” I note, turning to him after the butler hands me the drinks.
“I know just as much as my cousin,” he assures me. “Learned young, just like he did.”
“I see.” I glance over at Draco. He’s watching already, but he hasn’t made a move. Yet. “We haven’t officially been introduced, but I sense Draco has made it that way for a reason,” I continue.
“Probably,” he laughs. “He’s a greedy fucker. Always has been. Doesn’t want what’s his being talked to or touched.” He peers over at Draco, who has his forearm on the table now, fists clenched tight. “He’ll be making his way over here at any moment, I’m sure.”
“Why is he letting you walk around freely?” I ask, frowning a bit, and he drops his head to focus on me, his dark eyes flashing from the lights. “I heard what you did—how you’re stealing his things. How can he possibly be okay with that?”
“Oh, he’s not okay with shit like that. But I didn’t steal his stuff. It was stolen from me by that fucking cartel.”
I huff. “And you expect anyone here to believe that, with the way you walk around—all high and mighty, like you own the place too?”
He shrugs, like he really doesn’t give a shit. “He’s never fully trusted me. If my aunt didn’t have my back so much I’m sure he would have killed me a long time ago.”
“Like he killed your father.” I hold his gaze.
His cocky smirk fades, lips growing thin. “He’s told you about that . . .”
“Much about it, yes.” I smile, a sly smile that I’m sure gets under his skin. “The thing is, Thiago, if I were you, I wouldn’t cross him the way your father did. I wouldn’t push him. You of all people should know what’s he’s capable of. Right?”
His upper lips peels back to reveal a full row of straight, slightly sharp teeth. “I like you,” he chuckles. “And I see why my cousin likes you, too. You’re feisty. Smart. You know how to get under a man’s skin, even if his skin happens to be pretty damn thick.”
I quirk a brow, holding the drinks tighter in hand.
“But, Gianna Nicotera, I think what you fail to realize is that I am not the monster here. I’m not a traitor. I do what I have to do to survive, but when it comes to my family’s reputation, I don’t believe in tarnishing it. They assume I work with Hernandez, but he’s the one who sends me on the larger shipments every time. He’s looking for a reason to kill me. They fucking robbed me, killed those guards, and left me alive to deliver the message. Of course Draco doesn’t buy it.” He steps closer, towering over me. My eyebrows draw together, but I keep my eyes on his, unwavering. “He thinks they left me alive because I promised them something. But there isn’t anything they can give me that Draco can’t. He asks, why didn’t they just cut my head off and send it in a box to deliver their message? I say, because I’m a smart motherfucker who knows how to talk himself out of any situation. I did it with him just the other day, and I’m still alive for it. He won’t give me credit for that though—being the smart one. The one that thinks on his toes during the worst of circumstances.”
He looks at Draco, who’s standing now, picking up his shot glass and bringing it up to his lips. “You should go on back to him. He told me to never talk to you. I just couldn’t help myself. I always end up breaking his rules.” He laughs at that, and then he turns around, giving Draco a solid stare before walking out of the room.
I sigh and turn, but Draco is already coming for me. He takes the whiskey out of my hand, roughly setting it down on the bar station. “What the fuck did he say to you?”
I step sideways. “He was being a smartass. Says he would never betray you.”
He scoffs. “Bullshit.”
“He seemed serious, even if he’s a smart ass,” I tell him, handing him his drink. “Do you really think your own cousin would risk the family business like that?”
“His father did—my uncle, remember?” he seethes, eyebrows stitching. “He can’t be fully trusted.”
“You grew up together. Mrs. Molina still trusts him, too, even after everything she’s been through. Why can’t you?”
His jaw pulses. “I don’t trust anyone. This world is full of fucking traitors just waiting to put a blade in my back.”
When he says that, I feel my heart drop. “You don’t trust anyone,” I repeat.
Just hours ago he said he wanted to trust me—that he wanted to make me his partner and do this right. He doesn’t trust anyone now? He’s just drunk. Drunk and stupid, and saying whatever will feed his bloated ego.
I grip my glass and pull my eyes away from his. “I’m going to get some air,” I mutter. “Don’t send your guards after me.”
I walk off before he can say anything. I’m surprised he doesn’t stop me, but I won’t give him a reason to. Instead I keep going, leaving the room and turning to get to the corridor that leads to the library.
Mrs. Molina is standing outside the door with a piece of cake on a plate. She’s nearly finished eating it. When she spots me, she sucks the icing off the tip of her thumb and smiles.
“Oh, Gia.” Her eyes light up. She’s a bit tipsy, too. I can tell when she starts to giggle. A butler walks by and she flags him dow
n, handing him the half-eaten cake. “How are you liking the party?”
“It’s fun,” I lie with a smile.
“It is. I’m so glad you are here. My son has never behaved so well.”
My mouth twitches. I don’t want to talk about him right now.
“Come on,” she insists, grabbing my wrist. “Walk with me. I need to sober up a bit before getting to bed.”
I laugh. “Almost drunk, huh?”
“Almost?” She laughs, and then sighs, our heels clicking across the marble. I look back, glad none of the guards are following us. He can at least do that for me—leave me alone. “I don’t know if Draco told you, but his father would take me to Spain every year for my birthday. We would drink and party so much, no matter how old I felt. We used to have such a good time together. I miss those days with Carlos.”
I look over at her as we stop right where the stairs that lead to the galería are. “You miss him a lot, don’t you?”
“Every single day. And so, so much,” she says, rather painfully. “I wanted to drink tonight to remind myself of him. To imagine him here with me in spirit, enjoying this night with me. It may not be Spain, but it has been a good night, with great music and delicious cake.”
“It has.”
She looks me over twice, gripping the guardrail. It’s quiet for a few seconds. I shift in my heels, looking down at the galería door. “Do you think my son can make you happy?”
That question catches me way off guard. I tilt my head to look at her, opening my mouth, but then clamping it shut in an instant, realizing that I don’t know the answer to that. “I—I don’t know,” I finally respond.
“I hope that he can,” she says in a near whisper. “And I hope that you can make him happy, too. I hope that one day he will quit all of this, because the riches and the power don’t matter. It’s what his father thought—that it mattered most—but it doesn’t. Draco deserves to have a life. I hate that he’s a wanted man. I fear for his life every single time he steps out of the door. I fear for my own life sometimes, but I don’t so much mind the thought of leaving this world. It’s just being in this world without him that would kill me. Losing my son—my only son . . . well, I wouldn’t want to live. Every day would cause suffering. I just want him to do the right thing one day—quit this so that he can go far away and enjoy his life.”
“He seems to love what he does.”
“He does. And I don’t blame him.” She looks down at the galería door, sighing. “After all he has been through, all he has seen, I can’t blame him at all. Sometimes I wonder why he isn’t angrier.” Her head picks back up and she locks eyes with me. “I hope he can make you happy one day. Maybe not now, but someday soon. I hope Lion was right. I hope you two become inseparable.”
I press my lips, wanting to smile broadly, but unable to. Daddy talked about us with her, too. Of course he did.
“Well,” she yawns, stepping away from the rail. “I thought I could make it to midnight but I am exhausted. I think I should go to bed.” She rests a flat palm on my cheek. “Tell my Draco that I love him.”
“Okay.” I smile.
Her gaze is gentle when she pulls away. She walks past me, in her purple gown, and continues walking without a glance back. I look after her until I can’t hear her steps anymore.
I turn and look down the steps, at Draco’s galería door. I don’t want to go back to the party. I really don’t want to face him just yet.
He’s drunk right now, but I’m hoping he’ll sober up soon and return to his regular Draco self.
I place my wine glass down on the corner table and then take the steps down, going to the door. He’s been going in there a lot lately, almost every other day. I’m curious what he’s been painting.
He said he doesn’t mind me going in there, just as long as I don’t touch anything. I’ll make myself useful and see what I’ve been missing. It’s been a while since he’s brought me here. He’s had no reason to bring me down to this room that makes a statement, either by punishment or by pleasure. Or a mix of both.
I make it down and reach for the knob. To my dismay, it’s locked.
“Damn it,” I mutter, rattling the door like it will magically open. I guess he doesn’t want people in it tonight. Understandable.
I step back and look to my right, but then my eyebrows pinch together, spotting another door. It’s smaller, all black with a black doorknob.
I don’t know how I didn’t notice it before, but seeing as it’s nearly tucked behind a column and blends into the shadows, I don’t think I was supposed to.
I walk toward it cautiously. This is one room that I haven’t been taken into. I grip the doorknob, but it too is locked.
Releasing a heavy breath, I take a step back, looking it over. I hear the guests upstairs, still boisterous, the music playing loudly, proving the party won’t be ending anytime soon.
But then I hear something else.
Something that isn’t the guests at all.
It’s a heavy, loud groan.
It transforms into a deep, long moan, almost like a cry for help. It’s coming through this locked door. In there.
Leaning forward, I press my ear to it again, listening harder. I don’t hear anything for a few seconds, to the point that I think I’ve imagined the sound, but as I start to pull away, I hear it again.
It’s a man.
What the hell?
I reach up, rapidly searching the top frame of the door for a key. He usually has them around. To my luck, there is one taped to the top and I snatch it down, stuffing it into the lock and stepping inside. I check over my shoulder before shutting the door behind me. When it’s closed, I’m engulfed in darkness.
My heartbeat doubles in speed. I don’t know what I’m walking into, but the person sounds like they’re in terrible pain. I need to see who it is.
I tip toe down the wooden steps, but each one creaks, giving me away. Whoever it is, they already know I’m here. I hear chains rattling, the groaning becoming louder. When I hear the chains, I know no one is hurt by accident. This is for a reason.
Chains mean punishment here.
With each step down, a small light comes into view. It’s dim, reminding me of a nightlight.
My breathing becomes chaotic as I take the last step, the click of my heels giving my presence away even more. At first I don’t see anything. The light shines on small things that are stored down here. Baskets. Buckets. Towels. Boxes stacked in the corner. Garden tools and hoses. The built-in shelves carry over to a darker corner, cutting off all access of light there.
“Please,” I hear the voice croak, and I gasp.
I stop where I stand, knowing this isn’t a good idea. Someone’s here. Someone I probably don’t want to see. What Draco does to people isn’t my business anymore. He handles people his own way for a reason. I don’t need to interfere . . . well, that’s what I tell myself, but I don’t turn back.
“Please,” the crackly voice calls again. “Water. Anything. Please.”
That voice. It’s so familiar. My eyes narrow. I walk to the shelf to pick up the LED lantern at the top. When I switch it on, it illuminates the dark corner.
I’m in a basement, but not the same one Draco killed Kevin in. This one is smaller, the air dryer.
But that’s not what surprises me.
What surprises me most is seeing the man sitting against the wall, wrapped up in chains. As I remember, he has no arms. But now, he has no clothes either. He is completely naked and even skinnier than he was before. His lips are cracked beyond anything I’ve ever seen, and his face is bruised, eyes blackened, hair a damp, sweaty mess.
I wince at the sight of him, my heart dropping.
“Oh my God! Ronaldo!” I whisper, rushing his way. I drop to my knees in front of him. He looks horrible. The chains are wrapped up so tight on his body that they seem to be squeezing the air from his lungs. “What are you doing down here? What happened? I thought you were dead!”
/> His head moves from side to side. I can tell it hurts to talk, to move his damaged lips at all. “The Jefe . . . is what happened. That fucking jackass.”
I sigh. At least he still has his wits about him. “Why is he torturing you again?”
“He assumes I know something.” He swallows hard, in pain. “Shit.” His tongue runs over his bottom lip. “Water? Over there.”
I pick up the lantern and look in the direction he’s looking in. I keep looking, stretching my arm out so the light can fill the dark spaces, and that’s when I see the cases of purified water against the far wall.
“He leaves it there so that I can see it. Beg for a drop,” Ronaldo rasps.
I mesh my lips together, pushing up and walking to them. Taking a bottle out, I rush back for him, set the lantern down, and then twist the lid off.
“Here.” I bring his body forward and he groans in agony, but doesn’t resist. “Open your mouth.”
When he opens it, I pour the water in. He doesn’t stop drinking until the entire bottle is empty.
“Fuck, I needed that.” He slouches back again and I put the cap back on the bottle. He looks me over thoroughly in my cocktail dress. “I see you did what I said. You made the king notice you.” He smirks.
I shrug. “I did what I had to do to survive here.”
“I hear them talk about you. La Patrona,” he mocks. “How did you gain such a solid position here?”
I look down, studying my red toenails. “Long story.”
His smirk fades and his eyes grow a few shades darker. “You have to get me out of here.”
“I’m not even supposed to be down here.”
“You promised,” he grounds out.
“I know I did, but it’s not that easy. This is the first night where none of them are on my ass. He’s starting to trust me. I can’t break that. I’ve been trying to think of ways—hoping to convince him to let you go. I thought you were in the shed but when I didn’t see you that day—”
“They took me out of there when they brought that white-haired guard and his whore in. Brought me here. What are they in there for?”