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“Do. You. Understand?”
The feather in her ridiculous hat quivered with increasing intensity. It was a testament to her unlikability that no one, not even her husband, stepped forth to intervene.
“Yes,” she spit out.
I released her, and she scrambled back to Tío Martin’s side. “Excuse us.” Sloane’s cool touch soothed some of the flames raging in my gut. “Xavier and I need to discuss some media matters in private.”
I followed her out of the room, passing my aunt’s vengeful gaze, Dr. Cruz’s frown, and a host of other silent judgment.
I wished I cared.
I was glad I didn’t.
Sloane led me to my father’s office down the hall. She closed the door behind us and faced me, her expression not betraying an ounce of emotion. “Are you done?”
“She had it coming.”
“That wasn’t my question.” Four strides brought her close. “Are. You. Done?” She punctuated each word with precision.
My jaw tensed. “Yes.”
Was what I’d done smart? Probably not. But it’d felt damn good.
Of everyone in my family, Tía Lupe was thelastperson who should talk about how my mom would feel. The two had never gotten along. Tía Lupe had seen my mother as competition for my father’s time and money—which was disturbing on so many levels—and my mother had disliked her sister-in-law’s shameless self-aggrandizement.
“Good, because if you’re done, it’s my turn to speak.” Sloane tapped the globe on my father’s desk. Red pins highlighted every country where the Castillo Group’s beer had the biggest market share.
Half the globe was red.
“This is your inheritance,” she said. “A global empire. Thousands of employees.Billionsof dollars. You are the only direct heir to the Castillo Group, and even if you refuse a corporate position, your name means something. It means there will always be people looking to take you down, to take from you, to get what they feel like they deserve. Some of those people are right down the hall.Yourjob”—she jabbed a finger at my chest—“is to be smart. This is a critical time not only for your father’s health but for your future. If he dies, it’ll be a feeding frenzy, no matter what his will says. So unless you’re willing to give up your inheritance and work for once in your life, keep your hands to yourself and your temper under control.”
Unlike earlier, her touch burned.
Indignation shriveled beneath her steady stare. She wasn’t being malicious or unsympathetic; she was being practical, and in typical Sloane fashion, she was right.
“Tough love, Luna,” I drawled. “You’re good at that.”
I stepped away from her and toward the globe. I spun it idly, watching the Americas roll by, followed by Europe and Africa, then Asia, then Australia.
I stopped it when South America came into view again and plucked the pin out of Colombia. It pricked my thumb, but I hardly felt it.
“Have you ever wished someone would die?” I asked softly. “I don’t mean figuratively or in a moment of anger. I mean, have you ever lain awake at night, dreaming of how life would be better if a specific person didn’t exist?”
It was the closest I’d ever come to shining a light on my darkest thoughts, and the somberticksandtocksthat followed sounded like hammers striking at my walls.
The English grandfather clock in the corner was one of my father’s prized possessions. Rosewood case carved with an intricate inlay design, face crafted of chased silver, hallmarked numerals by a famous London silversmith. He’d paid over one hundred thousand dollars for it at an auction, and its imposing sentry felt like an avatar for his reproach.
A breeze brushed my skin as Sloane reached for the pin. “Yes.” Her fingers grazed my palm for a single, lingering second before she pushed the pin back into the globe. “It doesn’t make us bad people, nor is it an excuse. We can’t always control our thoughts, but we can control what we do about them.”
Her gaze coasted from the antique surface of the globe to my eyes.
“The question then,” she said, “is what are you going to do next?”
CHAPTER13
Sloane
Gloom shrouded the Castillo estate for the next twenty-four hours as the patriarch hovered on the precipice between life and death. The staff worked more slowly, the family talked more quietly, and the sunshine streaming through the windows dulled the second they hit the mansion’s dread-laced air.
