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“We should stay away from most of those people, Angel. They might have been willing to look the other way while you roughed up someone else, but they’re not going to tolerate you going after them. They’re too powerful to stand for that.”
I turn back around and shake my head. “No, there’s something else.”
“What?”
The truth is, I don’t quite know yet. There’s this teasing blank figure floating around in my mind that just won’t leave me alone, and I can’t quite seem to grasp it for long enough to get a clear look. “Just do it,” I command.
Juan sighs. “Very well.” He’s the only one in this world who can give me attitude like that and live to tell the tale—well, him and my brother Dante. Juan has been working for my family since the days of our father, and after my father passed, alongside my mother, he made sure that Dante and I were taken care of—or, rather, he made sure we weren’t thrown in a grave right beside our parents. Then, when I became of age and decided that I was ready to take back what was mine, he was right there by my side, helping me make things right. So, I can forgive his occasional displays of emotion, especially considering he always ends up doing what I ask.
“By the way, have you seen Dante lately?” I inquire, when we’ve left my office and called it quits for the day. Despite everything else weighing on my mind, there’s always this constant lingering worry about my little brother. He’s been so distant lately, even more so than usual, and I can’t help but be concerned. I practically raised the bastard, after all—and every time I see him sulking about the compound, I can’t help but feel like maybe I didn’t do enough, like maybe I failed. I hate feeling like a failure.
“He’s been out of town for the past couple of weeks, but I thought I heard rumblings of him returning today. I’ll let you know as soon as I do.”
The spoiled brat. I love Dante to death, but I can’t help but be a little jealous of his carefree lifestyle, jetting around the globe with models and celebrities while I’m chained to this golden throne. As the younger brother, Dante’s gotten to revel in all of the benefits of my revived empire, without any of the responsibilities. I’ve tried to give him jobs in the past, but he usually just pawns them off to someone else.
Oh well, as long as he’s safe. He may be a cruel bastard, but there are already so few people in this world I can trust. The last thing I need is to risk my brother just to keep him busy.
“Is there anything else?” Juan asks at the end of the hall, before we part ways for the night.
There is. There always is. Right now, it’s that fucking gala. I just can’t seem to shake it from my mind. What am I missing? “I’d like to speak to André again,” I mention. “He’s left a bad taste in my mouth.”
“I can’t imagine you’re going to get much more out of him,” Juan responds. “I heard you roughed him up pretty publicly, if that doesn’t get him to tell the truth about our delayed payments, then nothing will.”
I’m not so satisfied. “Find me that son of his,” I sneer. André may think he’s too important to my business to be disposed of, but his son is a different story. Maybe another kind of threat is in order. “I’m going to pay André another visit, but this time I’m going to bring a familiar guest with me.”
“Very well,” Juan replies, clearly biting his tongue. He knows better than to push back too hard when I’ve got a hunch; it’s worked out well for the both of us in the past, so why start questioning it now?
“Have a good night, Juan,” I dismiss him.
“And you, sir.”
My old advisor slips into the darkness down the hall and I’m finally left alone. But the silence does little to quell my curiosity. For some odd reason, my heart keeps tugging me back to the scene of the gala. What the hell am I missing?
I don’t wait around for it to come to me. A humid midnight breeze wraps around my body like a wet blanket as I step outside and sniff the air for direction. There’s something out there calling for me, and I’m going to find it.
Sleep can wait. Right now, I’m hungry for answers.
4
Catalina
Well, this is nice.
I don’t know what I was expecting. Carlos’s father is an accountant to the stars, numbers-man of nearly every high profile business man and politician in the country, so why did I figure we’d just meet at some greasy burger place in the slums?
“My lady,” Carlos Cuadrado offers, pulling out my dining chair for me. I respond with a tight-lipped smile and sit. This is the second date I’ve been on in as many days, and I can only hope this one goes better than the last. Carlos isn’t exactly a looker—he’s a little on the plump side, and that’s being generous—but he was one of the few young men that I was introduced to at the gala who didn’t make it seem like they would be doing me such a great favor if we dated. The bastard
s. Do they get off on making a girl feel small? I’ve had enough of that in my life, thank you very much—and that Montoya asshole dismissing me like he did earlier in the night only made me feel all the smaller. I wanted to shrink inside a hole and disappear forever, but I’m not a quitter.
Still, I haven’t been able to get that loathsome dick out of my mind since he brushed me off so flippantly—but boy have I tried. After my failed stunt with him, I was suddenly all ears to every senator’s son and chocolate factory heir that Mayor Luis wanted to introduce me to. Maybe I had gotten off to a bad start, maybe I really did have to rein in my spice. Hell, my newfound demur demeanour got me enough first dates to fill a week, but I’m hoping I don’t have to go on them all. The first one was bad enough; the sandy-blonde spoiled brat thought I was applying to be one of his maids-with-benefits—like hell I was. He’s lucky I didn’t lunge at him.
Here’s hoping that Carlos is a little more modest.
“So, where are you from?” my date asks, stuffing his napkin into his popped collar like a bib.
I contemplate doing the same. My belly is rumbling with hunger, but I also have to be on my best behaviour. Luis has called me so many times over the past few hours with reminders on how act around these men that I’m starting to think in his voice. Only salads! No spilling! If he wants to, let him order for you!
Whatever, I can do those things. It’s the disrespect I can’t stand. So far, Carlos has been good on that front.
