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This wasn’t how my life was supposed to go. Less than a week ago, my whole existence had been consumed by my work. Every minute of my day was dedicated to growing my company so that I could save those around the world. But that was before I’d walked into Grayson’s office that fateful morning.
Now the only thing I could think of was that I may never see him again. I may never feel his arms hold me. I may never listen to the constant steady cadence of his heart when I curled up against him or get to see the tiny dimples on his cheeks when I sassed him. I’d never get to feel his fingers on my skin or get to touch him in return.
He could already be dead.
I started to sob in earnest. Esmerelda pulled me into her chest, wrapping her arms around me to calm me but it only made me cry harder because I couldn’t stop thinking about how I wanted it to be him holding me rather than her.
“There, there. It’ll all be alright. Let’s get you cleaned up and you’ll feel better,” she murmured.
She was an older woman, maybe in her late fifties or early sixties. Her long brown hair was streaked with gray. The wrinkles around her kind eyes were soft, but they showed the passage of time all over her face.
“I don’t want to be here,” I blurted, and she reached into the pocket of her skirts, handing me what appeared to be a handstitched handkerchief.
“When I first came here, I didn’t want to be either,” she replied, her kindness emanating with every syllable.
“What?”
“My father sold me to this house. Our family was deep in debt to Nemesio, and the only thing that could keep them alive was me. My hand in marriage erased what my family owed,” she continued.
“And your husband?”
“He’s one of the men outside. I was his reward for his loyalty to Nemesio and the family,” she continued.
“Which one is he?”
“He’s got the scar on the side of his face. He earned that when he failed to obey Nemesio’s orders once. He hasn’t made that mistake since,” she explained.
“Do you love him?” I asked.
She sighed.
“In a way, I suppose. Santiago has his moments of kindness. A bit rough around the edges, but that’s life. It’s better knowing that my family is alive rather than dead lying in a ditch somewhere,” she mumbled softly.
Her story didn’t give me much hope.
“As Nemesio’s wife, you will be treated with respect from the family. It will afford you luxury in that way,” she added.
“Unless he decides I deserve a black eye instead,” I muttered. When she didn’t correct me, I wasn’t surprised. Nemesio looked like a man who was used to getting what he wanted no matter what he had to do to get it.
“Nemesio likes to hide those kinds of marks in places where others can’t see,” she finally replied, and I shuddered hard with both disgust and fear.
“Come. Let’s get you washed up,” she offered, and I took her hand, feeling numb inside. There was a tub full of water, scented with roses and jasmine. I didn’t fight her when she grasped my coverup and pulled it over my head. She quickly shimmied my bikini bottoms down my legs as I reached behind my back and untied the top. I threw it on the floor beside the rest of my clothes.
She gave me a hand as I climbed into the copper claw-foot tub. The water was hot at least and when I settled inside it, she started getting to work on cleaning me off. Her hands worked at my flesh purposefully, but without any feeling. She’d probably been told to prepare me for the wedding tonight and knowing the reputation of the cartel, she wasn’t given much choice in the matter unless she wanted to wind up dead.
I lost myself in my thoughts of the past several days, trying to imagine Grayson beside me so that I didn’t go into a full-blown panic. She washed the filth off my skin gently, but I didn’t really feel anything. When she was done, she ha
d me soak in the water for a while before she rinsed me off. She conditioned my hair and left me once more, walking out in the room to leave me be.
I enjoyed the moments of privacy, knowing that they’d probably be the last I’d be afforded in a good long while. When it was finally time, she used a small cup to ensure that all the oils and conditioners in my hair were fully washed out before she helped me to climb out of the tub. She wrapped me in a fluffy white towel and led me back into the bedroom where there was a lacy white wedding dress waiting for me.
To be honest, it was really quite hideous. I could even smell the cigar smoke coming from it from several feet away.
It was a modest design, but the amount of lace was so overwhelming that it was off-putting. The skirt was massive and covered in more layers of grimy fabric than I could possibly count. Esmerelda must have seen my distaste because she smiled politely and placed a soothing hand on my arm.
“It’s traditional. Nemesio’s mother wore this on her wedding day and now you will too,” she tried to explain.
Fucking fantastic. Not only was he an abusive asshole, but he was a momma’s boy too.
