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He nods. “Thank you, Gabriel.”
I open the door for him. “Yeah, no problem, princesa. You better be on your way now. I probably have a mess to clean up and tracks to cover.”
He leaves the apartment without another word. I slam the door behind him and grab his clothes from the couch, throwing them in the fireplace. There can't be any evidence of him ever coming here. I watch the surveillance camera for anything out of the ordinary. I spot the same blue car from earlier driving down my street several times. Yes, I have a mess to clean up all right. And a man I need to get rid of.
Thirteen
Mateo
Yesterday when the driver pulled up in front of the house, I got out and quickly ran inside. My father wasn’t anywhere around, and my mother jumped up from the couch with her face relaxing and a soft sigh of relief slipping for her lips. “Oh, Mateo. I was worried sick, mijo.” She tugged me to her chest, wrapping her arms around me. I had never been so happy to smell her perfume. Who knew something I usually couldn’t wait to get away from would become something so comforting?
I buried my face into her shoulder, but I didn't cry. I never did. Not even the awful day that reminded me my life was nothing like anyone else's. I told her I was fine even though I wasn’t.
I went to bed last night with Gabriel’s words running through my mind from a week ago, about enjoying my crown while I had it. Suddenly they made sense. I didn’t speak to my father and he never came to my room. He probably will pretend it never happened the way he always does. “Mateo, we need to move forward, not backward. That's how people get stuck in the past and never find their way out,” he always says.
It's kind of hard to escape the past when you have the memories all over your body in the form of scars. I slide my sports coat over my button down shirt, smoothing out the creases.
Walking downstairs, I spot my father talking to a few men in his office. I've spent most of the day in my room, avoiding him, but it's time to face the music. I stand outside the door waiting for the others to leave, but before they can, I am being pulled away. The grip is strong and painful. There is only one person who would handle me this way in my own home. Santiago drags me through the living room and up the stairs. He tosses me inside my room, and I land ungracefully on the bed, bouncing on the soft mattress.
He stares down at me, aggravation clear on his face with his jaw tightening and brows furrowing, nearly touching his harsh dark eyes. “You will never stop trying to ruin things for us, will you, Mateo? I try and try to reason with you, but you always make it difficult. Why is that, mi amor? Why must you always fight against your own better judgment? If only you knew how the real world worked. You think I'm cruel, you should try being out there more.” He points to the window aggressively, spitting his words close to my face. “Next time, I may just kill you myself.”
I stare down at my feet, shuffling them around, wishing I was somewhere else. His long, cold fingers tug at my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes. “Are you even listening to me or did you go off into your own little world again? I don't know why I even bother.”
At first I thought it was because he hated me, but now I think he is doing it because he thinks it will save him as much as it will us. He's scared of something. The flicker of fear in his eyes is more telling than he realizes. “I'm exhausted after the day I had yesterday. I nearly died.”
“You looked fine to me when you made it down the stairs to your father's office. Luckily for you, I have shit to do anyway. We will talk later. Now, how about you give me a kiss goodnight. I haven't seen you in the last few days. I’ve missed my little muñeco.”
This was the part I always hated. The thought of his cold thin lips on mine always has my gut lurching. I can already taste him on my mouth, with his words brushing against my lips. The sooner I do it, the sooner he leaves, and the sooner we can get brunch over with. Then I can make my escape out into this real world he speaks of. One my father deprives me of because of his fear of one of his enemies getting their hands on his precious son.
I'm not this fragile, boneless man he makes me out to be. Every day I work hard to prove myself to him that I'm everything my older brother was before he died. And every day I fail, bringing me further into Santiago's clutches. “Okay.” I close my eyes, letting myself slip away from reality as his mouth meets mine, envisioning he is someone else, imagining he is Gabriel.
His wet tongue slips between my lips and I part them, letting mine slide against it slow and gentle. The coldness of his hand on my cheek becomes invisible as my visions of the tall, sexier man overtake my mind and it's no longer my fiancé I'm kissing.
With my tongue diving deeper, his erection digs into my inner thigh, bringing me back to where I am. I’m making out with the man I hate, with his vile tongue in my mouth and hand slipping into the back of my pants. My eyes flash open and I pull away panting and Santiago's expression goes from relaxed to hard in a matter of seconds. “Why did you do that? You know better than to pull away from me. I think you forget who you belong to.”
I shake my head. “I don't belong to anyone but myself.”
He laughs and it doesn't reach his eyes. “Oh, is that what you think?” Before I have a chance to respond, his hand cracks against my cheek, almost knocking me off my feet. The sting nearly leaves me breathless and my skin goes hot.
I almost swing back and reach for my gun but remember it's not worth it and, if I play his game right, he will soon leave. If I aggravate him further, he'll never go. “I'm sorry, Santiago, I'm really tired and sore. I would really like to get to bed soon.”
His nose flares, and he balls his fists. “You better be sorry. If you act like a spoiled rotten brat, I'll treat you like one. You hear me?” He inches closer, grabbing a tight hold of my curls with his fingers, and kisses me on the cheek. With a satisfied smile, he runs his hands down his coat, smoothing out the invisible wrinkles. “Goodnight, Mateo. I'll see you tomorrow. Don't be late. Oh and wear your ring. That's what I bought it for after all.”
I don't relax until his feet are pounding down the stairs and I clutch my face with my hand, lowering myself on my bed. I hate that man. He comes in here and threatens me in my own home. Maybe I will have him killed instead of the other way around. My grandfather always told me I was never the killing type, but Santiago may have changed that.
My grandfather would shove me into the same room with him whenever he was about to interrogate someone. He made sure I watched every struggle, every torment as he broke their fingers or worse. Every time he gave me the honor of making a traitor regret his decisions, I stood there frozen with my hand shaking around the blade or pliers. He called me weak. “You must be someone else's grandson, because you certainly aren't mine.”
I shake my head from the memories when the front door slams shut. He's gone. Santiago is gone. I run back down the stairs and my father is standing at the bottom with his nose flaring in disapproval. “Oh, Mateo. I told you I would send someone else to the club yesterday. You didn't have to go. I pay people to do those things.”
“We can't trust those people. I am much better with numbers than anyone here. You need me more than you think.”
He sighs heavily. “Si. Pero I'd have no use for you if you're dead.”
“Maybe things would be better for you if I was. All I do is disappoint you. Now you have all these men babysitting me like I'm some child.”
“They are keeping you safe, mijito. Whoever planted that explosive will be back, and this time they will probably get the job done.”
I shake my head. “I can't stay trapped in this house forever.”
