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“Tell me why,” I stare up at him, demanding an answer.
“We’ve been dealing with some serious threats to…” he pauses as though he is trying to find the right words, “to the company. They are determined to take it from us at all costs.”
“So, um…like a hostile takeover.”
“Not quite, but yes,” he responds, and I can tell he’s hiding something from me.
“What you’re saying is that because someone wants your company, you don’t feel comfortable with me being alone at my place, and I need to stay at yours?” I try to repeat this conversation back to him. “That doesn’t even make any sense.”
He’s about to respond when we’re interrupted by Mr. Marcano. “Andres. I need you in my office.”
There is no denying the urgency in his voice, but Andres stands fast, determined to finish our conversation.
“Now,” Mr. Marcano reiterates as he walks from the office door.
“Two seconds, Alejandro,” Andres calls to him before returning his attention to me, “I have to deal with this. I might be a bit, but please don’t leave. I’ll fill you in on everything when I’m done.”
He leaves me standing in his office as he follows Mr. Marcano to his, and I stand there wondering what the fuck is going on.
“He does know that a hostile takeover is just aggressive, not violent, right?” I mumble to myself and roll my eyes.
It’s nearly eight o’clock. I’m tired, hungry, and dying to get out of these heels. I know it’ll probably piss him off, but I’m going to ignore his request to stick around until whenever it is that he’s free again. Scribbling a note on his desk, I grab my things and head for the elevator.
Not wanting to walk another step in these heels, let alone all the way to the subway, I hail a cab outside the building to take me home. Andres must really be tied up because I haven’t received a single call or text.
Once inside my building, I stop for a moment to unfasten and slip off my heels. Taking the six flights barefoot seems like a much better idea. Even without the heels my feet are screaming by the time I reach my apartment. Fumbling for my keys, I open the door and step into the darkness of my apartment.
I reach for the light switch as I lock the door behind me. Flipping it, the hallway light doesn’t switch on. Using what little light is filtering in through the window, I make my way into the kitchen and press that switch, also to no avail.
What the hell? I know I paid the bill.
Stepping into the living room, a deep whisper startles me from the dark, “Welcome home, pretty girl.”
“Really?” I roll my eyes, “First, my panties. Now my fucking lightbulbs.”
Walking closer to the direction of the voice, I continue my rant, “Also, pretty girl? How do you go frommi reinato pretty girl?”
“Mi reina?” the deep voice repeats from the shadows of my apartment with a slight chuckle. “No. I can’t call you that.”
“And why is that?” I toy with him.
“Because you definitely aren’t going to be treated like a queen this evening.”
“Is that so?”
“Mmhmm,” his voice changes slightly when he responds. “By the end of tonight, pretty girl might not be a suitable name for you either.”
I take another step and bump into him. His hand immediately grasps my throat, using it as leverage to spin me around and pull me flush against his chest.
“Do me a favor,” he whispers into my ear while clenching his fingers around my neck. “Make sure you scream for me.”
The lamp flicks on, and I try to scream, but the grip around my throat is too tight.
thirty eight
ANDRES
In his process of gathering families and touching base with every man who works for us, Rafael found two more massacred families with no husbands to be found.
