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Isaac bolted upright. "She will be my wife, and you will respect her. She belongs here just as much as any of you."
The conversations screeched to a halt, and the uncomfortable eating sounds continued. I was frozen in place.
"Al infierno con todos ustedes," Isaac spat at no one in particular, his voice cold and unwavering. With a swift motion, he grabbed the cloth holding the wine bottle and hurled it off the table, the harsh sound of it hitting the floor punctuating his anger. It shattered, and two Trabajadores came to clean it up.
"¿Todo bien, señor?" one of them asked, and Isaac batted them away.
Some might've considered this sweet, but this just felt terrifying. I didn't ask for this.
In the silence, Isaac began to drink.
The wine flowed steadily into Isaac's glass and soon reached the brim. He drank and drank until his face began to flush red, and he seemed only vaguely aware of his surroundings.
In no time, he was so drunk that his words slurred. His good humor had utterly faded, replaced with rage coming from nowhere. Everyone around us was growing increasingly uneasy, and all I could do was sit there and watch in dismay as my would-be husband slowly unraveled.
The feast ended abruptly with a loud thud as Isaac slammed his recently refilled cup onto the table, spilling its contents all over the white linen cloth. Our companions had gone silent, awaiting what would happen next.
Isaac glared at me. He grumbled a few incomprehensible words before slumping back against his chair with an unceremonious thud. The air felt heavy with tension as I stayed suspended in this moment of uncertainty, not knowing what to say or do next to defuse it.
I slowly reached out toward Isaac's arm with shaking hands and gently grabbed it. He squeezed me to the point of pain. I winced and jerked back, but he didn't budge.
I gritted my teeth and stiffened. "Let go of me, Isaac."
He pouted, tracing a finger down my cheek. “You love me. Say it. Say you love me.”
“You make a lot of assumptions about what I do and do not feel. How many times do I need to tell you I don’t love you? I said those things because I had to. Don’t you get it?”
He stared at me, angry and drunk. If I had been worried about betraying him again, apparently he didn’t care. For a second, the face of Pedro, the man my mother married to cover up her pregnancy, flashed before my eyes. He was a drunk.
Isaac used Ash, and now… this. I would end up just like my mother.
I yanked my arm again still unsuccessful. “No, of course not—because you’ve never been so afraid for your life or future.” I was tired, angry, and needed him to stop forcing me. I had been forced to do enough, and I couldn’t handle any more emotional torture.
“Don't be like that, Renatita. We're meant to be together, you and I."
He would never understand.“Let’s go to bed," I snapped, shoving him away. Rage simmered in my veins, fueled by his arrogance and careless insults.
Isaac's eyes narrowed, all traces of mirth vanishing. He stood up and practically shouted, "If you weren't La Chica Dorada, you wouldn't be good enough to sit at my feet, let alone marry me.You should be grateful.”
Embarrassment and rage burned on my cheeks. Isaac had yelled at the people daring to speak poorly of me just a little while ago, and now he was joining the mob. The rest of the room faded to black in my anger, and I slowly stood. I needed to get out of here before he started saying even more dangerous things.
Straightening my spine, I met his gaze defiantly. "I'm worth far more than you could ever afford, Isaac Monroy. Now if you'll excuse me, I have better things to do than stand here and be insulted by you."
I strode past him out the tent, shoulders back and head high. Let him think about what he wanted. He meant nothing to me. My worth had nothing to do with him or his petty insults. I was La Chica Dorada, and one day I would be free.
The outside was cold, so I went to set up my tent, hatred simmering in my veins like liquid gold. How dare he speak to me that way?
Isaac stumbled in after me, eyes glassy from too much wine. "Carmen, wait."
I froze. This was just as dangerous as I thought. He never called me Carmen.
His hand closed around my arm, fingers biting into my skin again. This time I didn’t pull away. "I didn't mean it. You know I didn't. I love you.”
I wrenched my arm from his grasp. "I know exactly what you meant," I hissed. "Now get away from me before I do something we'll both regret."
"You can't talk to me like that," he growled, crowding me against one of the tent poles. Icy fear trickled down my spine as his hands caged me in on either side of my head. "You're mine, remember? My mother wanted me to marry you. You owe it to her. It is the price for my silence.“
Rage exploded in my chest, hot and blinding. My knee flew up, catching him squarely in the groin. As he doubled over with a groan, I shoved him away with all my might.
