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Seventeen
Mateo
It’s only been a week, but one week too long. I go back to the same club, searching for him, needing to see those dark eyes and needing to feel those large, rough hands on me again. I'm met with nothing but strangers moving and laughing in the dimly lit club. I walk to the bar, order a drink, hoping after my second one he will magically appear, but he doesn't. Someone yanks on my arm and I turn to face them, almost letting my cup drop from my hand. “You came back. Looks like your big hero didn't come with you.”
The same man from a few weeks ago smiles maliciously, licking his lips. I slide my hand under my coat, pulling a knife from my corset when he presses his body against mine, swiping his tongue over my cheek. “You're coming home with me tonight, pretty boy.”
I spit in his face, gritting my teeth. “I don't think so.” Come on Mateo, prove you're not weak for once. Be more what your father expects you to be. People are less likely to hurt someone they're scared of. I plunge my knife into his thigh, his screams loud and deep. “You little…”
I lift my knee, hitting him in the groin and he lands on the ground with a thud as people step back from his tumbling body. “What the hell is going on here?” One of the managers appears from behind the bar.
The man on the ground curls into himself, appearing small and weak. “That asshole stabbed me. What kind of place is this where you let little delinquents in like him? I am a VIP member here, and this is unacceptable.”
The manager stares at me, brows bunching together. “Who the hell comes into my club, stabbing my high end customers? Who the hell let you in?”
I stand up straighter, flattening out my coat. “I am Mateo Juventino, son of Miguel Juventino, and fiancé of Santiago Morales. This man here assaulted me, and I did what I had to do to defend myself.”
The manager swallows hard. “My apologies, sir. I wasn’t aware you came to places like this. Are you here for business or pleasure?”
“Pleasure, but I am leaving now. Perhaps you should keep a better eye on your VIP members. Having money doesn't give you the privilege to take whatever you want.”
He nods, glaring down at the man on the floor. “Out, you are no longer welcome here.” That guy may have been a VIP member, but my father and fiancé were way more important.
The man on the floor stutters on his words. “But this asshole stabbed me…”
“Be glad that's all he did. Now get out or someone will drag you out. Don't expect a refund for your membership.”
The man stands up, clenching his fists in anger before turning toward the staring crowd and pushing through the standing bodies, making his way to the door. “My apologies again, sir. Would you like me to call you a car?”
“That won't be necessary, I'll make sure he gets home safely. His car is already outside waiting for him.”
That same voice that causes my teeth to grind together comes from beside me. Santiago's eyes are heavy with anger and disappointment, and I already know what's in store for me. “Come on, Mateo. Let's get you home. Thank you, Toni, for taking care of the situation.” Santiago knows everyone and he is very good friends with the owner.
Toni nods, straightening his tie. “No problem, Mr. Morales. I apologize for letting it get out of hand the way it did.”
“As you should. See that that man never steps foot in here again. I don’t want to have to call Mr. Thompson and let him know what happened.”
“That won't be necessary, sir. He will not be welcome here and neither will his friends. That’s a guarantee.”
“Good, and you, I'll deal with you later,” he whispers in my ear, tugging hard on my arm. Dragging me through the club, his grip never loosens, and he doesn’t slow his pace until we reach the car. He opens the door, throwing me in the back. “You will not be coming back here either. I'll meet you at the house.”
The door slams shut, and I press my body against the middle of the back seat, distancing myself from the loud thud. The driver pulls out of the parking lot and Santiago's car follows closely behind us. There's a white piece of paper tucked into the side of the door that I didn’t notice before. I unfold it, letting the paper rustle against my hands.
Meet me at the oak tree near the fountain at midnight.
There's no signature but there doesn't have to for me to know who wrote this letter. I ball it up in my hand, shoving it in my pocket, glancing at the time the car reads. It's only eleven, and normally it would be plenty of time if it weren't for Santiago's punishments I'm about to endure.
My car door opens, and Santiago drags me out, pulling me toward the house. My parents are nowhere to be found. They might be on another one of their business trips. Or my father may be visiting one of the brothels Santiago owns. He doesn't think I know his little secret, but I do. I followed him once and my mother seems to just turn a blind eye to it. So I was supposed to do the same.
The house is silent, except for our shoes stomping against the floor as Santiago forces me to move faster up the stairs. He sneers, shoving me through my bedroom door. “I sure hope you had your fun tonight and got it all out of your system.” His hand lifts in the air, coming down hard against the side of my face, causing me to yelp. His slaps come again, harder this time. Whack! He nearly knocks me off my feet. “You know better than to step into one of the clubs and cause a scene, and yet you went and did it anyway. Always defying me.”
“You don't own me.” I spit in his face.
He raises his hand to strike again and I stand there staring at him, becoming motionless. Going to that place I always go when he hits me, escaping somewhere deep in my mind. “Don't leave this room again. You are as weak as your father says you are. You can't handle yourself out there. We are in the middle of a huge war and I won't let you fuck everything up by being careless and stupid.”
Many threats have been sent to Santiago, saying if he didn't back off and end the engagement, they would be mailing him pieces of his little fiancé. He was seen as a bigger threat now than before. He doesn't know I read the folded letters in his coat when he stepped outside for a call. He doesn’t care about me being dead. He knows if I die, everything my father has won't ever be his. He can't marry a corpse. The door opens and slams shut. Loud footsteps rush down the stairs and I hide outside on the balcony, pressing my back to the brick wall. At least he didn't ask me to kiss him goodbye today.
As soon as I hear him haul ass out of the driveway in his loud ass car, I run down the stairs and out to the fountain where the only man my heart ever surged for once waited for me before. Except this time, there is no one here but me. I allow the tears to spill, wetting my face and making the cold air sharper against my skin. “You're late.”
