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She clicks her tongue. “So do you. Pick something less boring. Something we don’t already know.”
“Hobbies aren’t something that have really come up, is all.”
Her eyes narrow into slits. “Elena. Tell me you knew more about Kal than just the size of his dick before you married him.”
I sputter, dropping my hand from my neck. “What?”
“Come on, we all know about what happened at Christmas. Papá told us about your affare illecito. So very grown up and out of character for his little people pleaser.”
I bristle at the condescension dripping from her words. “I am not a people pleaser.”
“You so totally are. Not that any of us blame you; we all chose whatever defense mechanisms worked best against Papá. Yours happened to be the path of least resistance.”
Scoffing, I reach for a plum, plucking it from the bowl and biting into its purple flesh. “Well, Papá wasn’t pleased with how my wedding day turned out, that’s for sure.”
“Oh, God,” she groans, tipping her head back. “He really did steal you away from Mateo, just like Mamá said. What does he have on you and how can I help extract you from his clutches?”
“Jesus, Ari,” I say, sweat beading along my hairline and slicking down my back. “You make him sound like some sort of supervillain.”
“He is one! Don’t act like you’ve suddenly forgotten all the rumors about him, or the gossip we used to hear from Mamá and her sisters.”
Not husband material, I remembered one zia insisting, though I never quite understood why. How could a man with the face, body, and mind of a Greek god not be worthy of marriage?
I suppose if that Greek god were the one reigning over the Underworld, the way Kal seems to reign over everyone he comes into contact with.
But even Hades took a wife.
Emphasis on took.
Swallowing the bite of plum, I glance around the house again, its absolute emptiness echoing around me like a vast cavern, neglected by man. How it sometimes feels like the temperature drops at night, as if his ghosts come out to play when we’re supposed to be sleeping.
Maybe this is what they meant.
Men in the world of the mafia are all plagued by their demons. I can’t help wondering what exactly Kal’s might be, and if I’m here to act as a buffer between them.
“You know,” I say slowly, taking another bite of fruit. “I remember you mentioning wanting to hook up with Kal at the Christmas party.”
She makes a face. “And? Fucking someone and marrying them are two different things, E. You’d know that if you’d been with more than one person.” Pausing, her eyes glaze over for a moment, as if she loses herself in thought, then refocus in the next second. “Is that what happened? Did he seduce you and get you addicted to his cock?”
“Ariana.”
“What? It was your first time, presuming what Papá said about you and Mateo waiting was accurate. It makes sense you’d feel an unnatural, soul-deep connection to him.”
I chew on the plum silently, considering this. It would make sense, but it’d also suggest my motives behind accepting his forced proposal were actually less altruistic than I’d thought, and I don’t want to think about the fact that I’d probably have thrown my family to the wolves if only the dark-haired, sharp-jawed sociopath asked.
So, instead of doubling down on the realization, I shove it to the recesses of my brain and backpedal. “Wait. You said he stole me, just like Mamá said. What did you mean by that?”
“He hasn’t told you yet? Papá and Mamá slipped a tip to Bollente and a few other national news stations downtown, saying Kal slit Mateo’s throat and kidnapped you from your very own balcony. They’re offering a gigantic reward for any information on your whereabouts.”
I watch as she sets the phone down, dusting her eyelids with a soft gold shadow. My makeup bag sits upstairs in my packed suitcase, probably wasting away at this point—though where’s the sense in doing myself up for a man’s haphazard attention the few hours he’s actually home?
Maybe Nonna was right, and my generation really does give up early on in marriage.
Puzzlement twists my face up. “They know where I’m at. And even if they didn’t, I’m video chatting with you right now. How hard would it be to trace my location?”
“Harder than you think, apparently. Why else would Papá go to the trouble of drawing attention to himself?”
An uneasy feeling settles low in my belly, anchoring me to my fears. Something doesn’t feel quite right here.
