Page 17 of Secrets of the Six

"You've been practicing your curtsey, I hope." Her eyes slide to meet mine and it's as if she's waiting to catch me in a lie, but the truth is, as much as I hate these lessons, I'm far too stubborn to fail.

I bob my head. "I have."

She purses her lips. "We will see."

She strides to one of the bookcases, gripping her custom-made cane tightly in her right hand. There is a slight limp in her gait but apart from that, she commands the presence of a queen. To my dismay she grabs a thick tome from the shelf and from the dip from the added weight in her hand, I know it's heavy.

"Place this on your head and curtsey."

"Why?" I crinkle my nose.

"A lady must possess balance and poise. Curtseying haphazardly will alert the Dons to your impersonation." Otero plops the book atop my head, ignoring my grumbles. "This will ensure you remain light on your feet, keep your back straight, and your movement intentional. Now, curtsey."

I've never been more thankful for practicing my curtsey before bed each night. With assured motion, I slide my right leg behind me and dip downward, ensuring my head and back are straight as a rod. Matching the speed of my descent, I ascend, all the while maintaining unwavering eye contact with Doña Otero.

A proud smile appears on her otherwise stoic face. "Very impressive."

"I told you I've been practicing."

She chuckles and saunters to her favorite armchair. She uses her cane for leverage as she gracefully settles into the cushioned seat and waves for me to join her. As I do every afternoon, I sit across from her on the couch and pour two cups of coffee. Doña Otero, I've come to learn, likes sweets and insists on four cubes of sugar be plopped into her mug, alongside a very generous helping of cream. Whenever I was able to partake in a cup of coffee, which was extremely rare, I would drink it black, because that's the only way I could steal some. But Otero has slowly converted me to her sweet-tooth ways, and I am now partial to two cubes of sugar with a tablespoon of cream.

Once I've mixed her drink, I place the cup on its matching saucer and offer it to her. Her eyes haven't left me for a moment; scrutinizing my every move, but the second she accepts my offering, she nods in approval.

"You learn quickly." She blows the rising steam softly. "I knew you would."

"How did you know?" I ask, bringing my cup to my lips.

"That you would be a quick learner?" She takes a long, drawn-out sip, as if to give herself time to come up with a clever answer, but instead she surprises me by saying, "It was Salvador who convinced me you would be an asset."

"Salvador?" My eyes widen, and for a reason I can't explain, my heart races.

"You look surprised." She smirks, knowing damn well I'm shocked. "Salvador came across your file" – she throws her hand in the air as my mouth opens, silencing me – "don't ask me how." My mouth shuts and I know by my pout I appear childish. "He saw what you were imprisoned for, shaved off about two-thirds of it knowing how the Master of Justice fluffs up criminal records to ensure swift and harsh punishment, and deduced you were the missing piece to our puzzle. " She stares at me silently for a moment before admitting, "I, however, wasn't sold on you joining us. I had to meet you for myself. Apart from your skills as a burglar and your striking resemblance to my niece, Elena, it wasn't until I spoke with you, that I knew you were indeed what I was looking for. It was your unyielding disapproval of the Soberano and spunk that convinced me.”

A sudden warmth floods my chest, and it feels suspiciously close to comfort. I shoo that unwanted feeling away, knowing the minute I get too attached to these people, my judgment will become clouded, and my intuition will eventually fail me.

This is a job, Ines. I remind myself. This is not a forever-home. They are not your family. She is your employer and a dangerous one.

"Where'd you dig him up?" I change the subject, catching the Doña off-guard for a change.

"Where did I dig who up?" The slight uptick of the corner of her mouth I know she's screwing with me, but I humor her anyway.

"You know of whom I speak," I tsk. "Salvador."

"Ah, yes, Salvador." Her brows bounce playfully. "I met him when he was a boy. He needed a home, so I gave him one."

"Wait. So, you adopted him?"

"Not exactly." She sets her mug down on the coffee table and reclines in her chair. "His parents were very dear friends of mine so when they passed, I made sure he wasn't alone. I never adopted him because there was no need for anyone to know about him."

I frown. "You were ashamed of him?"

"Quite the contrary. I wanted to protect him." Her fingers wrap around the pommel of her cane like a snake squeezing the life out of its prey. With a sigh she admits, "House Otero has a reputation. One of power, one of revenge, one of violence. But secretly, so the other Houses don't know what we are truly like, we are quite benevolent and charitable. We just tend to do our good deeds in private. No reason for the other Dons and Doñas to believe us weak."

"Who were you protecting Salvador from?" I ask, my interest piqued at who the masked man really is.

She takes a minute, mulling over her answer carefully. "Everyone. There's a reason I keep his existence a mystery."

I know I won't get much more out of her on Salvador's upbringing, so I sip my hot coffee, enjoying the sweetness that coats my tongue. "And why does he always wear a mask?"