It was like my body could no longer contain itself. I listened for every step, flinched at every loud noise, was too watchful, too alert. I barely slept.
I was terrified that, somehow, my father would know. Maybe someone would tip him off. I would forget something, not be careful enough, and suddenly, everything would go to shit.
Naya, the head of the Center of Gentle Love and Hope, had told me multiple stories of women facing the same psychological response when they thought of escaping their abuser.
They'd panic at the notion of leaving, because regardless of the pain, misery, and terror they suffered, they knew their abuser. They knew their triggers, knew their surroundings, and the brain valued that information.
In the known, there was familiarity, a measure of safety, but what waited in the unknown brought nothing but fear. Between that and the possibility that anything could go wrong, it made sense why so many people stayed.
But I wouldn't.
With a deep breath, I stared at my reflection, forcing myself to calm down. Little by little, I smoothed my expression until it morphed into one of a gentle, doting, unassuming daughter. Then I made my way to my father's office and knocked on the door.
"Come in."
I steeled myself, but when I opened the door, I found my father wasn't alone.
Seated in front of him was a large, heavyset man with thick black hair pulled back into a ponytail at his nape. I recognized him as one of the people who had attended the party last night. Someone I’d gone out of my way to avoid.
Being near him made my skin crawl. The air of danger and malice around him was tangible—even in a crowded room.
The rich saw themselves as the elite. They could take whatever they wanted, own whatever they felt they deserved. Everything and everyone had a price. That's what they all believed.
But this man didn't seem like he wanted to pay. Like he'd kill anyone for simply suggesting it.
He acted like the world owed him something, that he had the right to take whatever he wanted by force. And when his brown eyes dragged their way slowly over my body before finally meeting my own, the look in his eyes said it all… he wantedme.
"Catalina, this is Fernando Salazar. Fernando, this is my daughter, Catalina."
Fernando made no move to rise from his chair, making sure I had to cross the distance between us to shake his hand. Warning signals fired off in my gut. Something was very wrong.
While my father couldn't care less about me privately, publicly, he always acted like I was his most prized possession. Disrespecting me meant disrespecting him, and that's exactly what Fernando had done. Yet my father said nothing. In fact, he seemed to be completely ignorant of the entire exchange, even though I'd seen him ruin a man for less.
But for now, I was expected to play their game.
I stuck out my hand, donning my most welcoming smile. "It's nice to meet you, Fernando."
Fernando ignored my hand for a moment, his meticulous gaze studying my skin as if I was a piece of art he could critique. Unease filled my veins, but I kept the smile on my face.
Finally, he shook my hand, his grip tight. Squeezing my fingers, expecting me to wince. If it weren't for my high pain tolerance and spite, I would have.
He released his grip, leaving my fingers with a dull ache, then kissed my hand. "It is lovely to meet you, Catalina." His voice was deep with a heavy Hispanic accent.
His kiss felt dirty. Forcing another smile, I pulled my hand from his, the rough hairs of his goatee scratching my skin.
"She's beautiful." He grinned.
"Then you approve?"
I turned to my father, the knots in my stomach twisting tighter. "Approve?"
"Yes." Fernando stood, towering over me.
I gulped at the hungry expression in his eyes. He looked at me like he wanted to crush me,breakme until there was nothing left. Still, I kept myself calm, not willing to give Fernando or my father the satisfaction of seeing how afraid I really was.
I stepped to the side of Fernando, moving out of his way. But as he walked past me, he grabbed a lock of my hair and brought it to his lips.
Surprised, I instinctually jerked away.
