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“Nothing is set in stone just yet. As an investor, you’ll be among the first to know. If you’ll excuse us,” Santos says as Caius approaches with a woman. I do a double take. If I didn’t already know it was Ana, I wouldn’t have guessed it from a casual glance because she’s changed. A lot.
“You’re removing my family’s name?” I ask Santos.
He scans the room with a keen eye before meeting my gaze. “Your name is now Augustine, remember?”
“But—” I start, but before I can finish, Caius and Ana reach us. I hate that my heart races when I see her.
Caius’s expression is set in stone, different from the usual casual asshole vibe he gives off, but I don’t dwell. I need to process Ana’s presence, and it’s going to take all my energy.
Ana takes Santos in with big doe eyes, and I find myself leaning a little closer to him. Has Caius noticed? Has Santos? She is pretty, always has been, although now it’s with hair dyed almost as dark as mine. Naturally it’s a light brown. I wonder why she dyed it. She was prettier with her natural color. She must have extensions in too because it was never that thick or that long. Her makeup is heavier than I remember her wearing, and her lipstick is a familiar red. It’s applied so thickly it’s already cracking. My gaze falls to her chest because her boobs are out there for all the world to see. She’s had some work done.
I’m glad to see Santos only spares her a glance, barely acknowledging her presence while she’s staring up at him like a puppy. I remember his comment about being celibate. Is he oblivious to her adoring gaze? Is Caius? Isn’t he pissed?
“Caius, Ana,” Santos says in greeting.
“Santos, it’s so nice to see you again,” she says demurely, smiling.
Caius remains stoic and turns his brother away to say something too quietly for me to hear. I’m wondering what it is when both brothers’ gazes follow a family of four who have just entered the reception hall, two men and two women. One of the men looks to be a little older than Santos. The other must be in his mid-twenties, similar to the younger of the two women. I wonder if maybe the older woman is their mother because she’s much older. There is a clear resemblance between them all, especially the younger man and woman.
But it’s not those things that stand out. It’s that they also seem to travel with soldiers who are less subtle than the Augustine bunch. As I watch their progress, the younger woman turns her attention in our direction, her gaze passing completely over Ana, pausing on me, then turning fully to Santos. That’s when she smiles a wide, gleaming smile, one that sets my teeth on edge.
The younger man sets his hand on her arm. He leans close to her as she speaks and he, too, turns toward us. They look so much alike I wonder if they’re twins. But it’s not that that makes my mouth go dry and the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. It’s when his gaze lands squarely on me—and he isn’t smiling.
Santos’s entire body goes rigid. His hands fist at his sides. Caius’s eyes narrow as he takes in the family, who stop to pick up drinks from a waiter’s tray. Only then does the younger woman look away from Santos; only then do his hands unclench. I think that’s when he realizes the man with her is still staring at me, and I feel like a deer caught in the crosshairs.
Santos wraps his hand around the nape of my neck and draws me close. My heart races. We stand like that for a moment, not saying anything. Not a word. But the act itself denotes possession and weirdly, I’m grateful for it. I feel safer for it, although I have questions. They clearly know Santos and they may know me, but I don’t know anything about them at all.
“Madelena,” Ana says as the family moves away.
Santos’s grip relaxes and, exhaling, I turn to her. At least she doesn’t use the Mad Elena they used to call me at school. The nickname she started. She had a way of saying it subtly enough that at first, I wasn’t quite sure she did it on purpose, but she had. Every single time.
“Ana.” I don’t bother to smile. If she thinks I’ve forgotten or forgiven, she’s wrong. I’m not so generous.
Santos signals to Val, who must have arrived after us. He comes over. “Take my wife and my brother’s date to our table.”
“Yes, sir,” Val says, and I see Ana smile like she feels so very important. I want to scream at her that Val is a fucking soldier.
Santos sweeps his fingertips along my spine, sending a shiver through me. He leans in like he’s kissing my cheek. “Don’t stray,” he whispers, the lips brushing my ear sending a thrill through me. He lingers, and I wonder if he feels it too, the strange connection between us.
“Who are they?” I ask in a whisper, knowing this is important.
His gaze darkens. “No one who matters,” he says, calm tone forced, and I know without a doubt that they do matter. They matter very much because I’ve never seen Santos Augustine have such a visceral reaction to anyone. I’ve never seen his hate personified in every cell, tensed in every muscle of his body.
“Santos?” I ask, reaching out for his hand when he steps away, catching the tips of his fingers.
He looks back at me, at the brief contact of our hands before I draw back. What am I doing?
Caius finishes doing whatever he’s doing on his phone and tucks it into his pocket. He all but ignores Ana when he nods in silent communication to Santos, and the two walk purposefully away.
“I wonder what that’s about,” Ana says, taking a flute of champagne off a passing waiter’s tray. I notice the family is leaving the room through a different door.
I cut my gaze to her. Does she think we’re going to be friends?
“Ladies,” Val says, gesturing for us to walk ahead of him toward the room where dinner will be served and speeches will be given. The tables are filling up, and Val finds ours at the front. If I recall, this is a ten-thousand-dollar-a-plate event.
Once we’re seated and Val retreats, Ana turns to me. “They’re cute, the brothers. I always thought you’d land him after what he did to Jason Cole.” She looks me over, then sips her drink. “He’s really into you for some reason, isn’t he?”
Was she always so good at the barely veiled insults? She pushes dark hair over her shoulder, and I realize what’s off with the new look. The hair, the makeup. She looks like me. No, that can’t be right. I still remember the Morticia Addams joke from years ago. “Watch yourself with Caius. You’re out of his league.”
