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“What?”
“For us to be sad on Christmas.” He stares off into the distance.
I point toward the large amount of snow by the trees. “Then let's go show her how happy we are to build a snowman.”
“Okay.” Tightening his grip on my fingers, he drags me off the porch and we throw a few snowballs at each other before forming the first part of the snowman together.
My whole body is frozen and Ignacio’s face is beat red by the time we add the finishing touches to our new friend. He ran inside to grab a carrot while I tied a red scarf around the snowman’s neck.
“I got part of his face,” he says.
I straighten the stick arms and shove two black stones into his face. “I have the eyes.”
He sticks the carrot in the center and frowns. “What about the mouth?”
“I'm sure we can use some chocolate chips.”
His face brightens and he nods. “Yeah, that'll be perfect. Does he need buttons?”
“We can always get some tomorrow. We better go inside before we turn into snowmen, too.”
He chuckles, and for the first time in a while it meets his eyes. He probably still thinks he has the upper hand and me where he wants me, but slowly I'm starting to have him, too.
Connor hacked into his medical records earlier, and Iggy not having many scars less than eight months old didn't make sense. His tattoos didn't either. Some were definitely done within the last year. Not to mention the men never touched him in front of me. He was running the whole fucking show and knew the bad men were no longer in the house because he made sure I killed them all.
If my kidnapping was real, I wouldn't have still been breathing, and his hole barely looked touched when I washed him in the cellar. I tried not to read into it too much before but after all the evidence confirmed what has sat in the back of my mind for the last few weeks, it became a very important detail. He was taken and tortured, but it wasn't as long as he claims.
What really brought everything together for me was the man lying on the bed in the other room in the basement. Who I thought was Ignacio at first, not only had different colored hair and a thicker frame, he also had tattoos on his back where Ignacio didn't. One of the symbols I saw on “Christmas cake” guy's neck.
I’d thought I was seeing things. After all I went through down there it was possible, but then my brother showed me a picture of two brothers who were likely the ones who took Ignacio, and they both had tattoos on their back of a viper in flames with initials underneath. It was a symbol everyone in the gang they were part of had. I'm guessing the guy with the one covering most of his back was their leader. Based on the body's condition, he was kept alive a long time, suffering some of the worst days of his life before being killed.
A few more snowballs hit me, bringing me out of my head, and I tackle Ignacio to the ground, tickling his sides. We roll around laughing and sharing kisses.
“Come on, we need to go inside before we freeze to death, and we should also eat something. I made your favorite.”
He arches a brow. “What is it?
“Come with me inside and you'll see.”
He nods and I help him up from the ground. The warmth of the house surrounds us as we walk inside. I close and lock the door, heading to the stove. “It needs to be heated but won't take long. In the meantime, go change into warm clothes.”
He huffs, pouting. “But—”
I shoot him a stern look. “Now or I'll start giving you strikes, and you don't want to know what happens when we reach four.”
“Yes, Daddy,'' he says. His shoulders slump as he walks toward the room and I laugh. Originally, he manipulated me into being what he wanted, tricking me into slowly adapting to our new relationship and wanting to be his Daddy. Now I'll use it in my favor. Eventually I'll get him to admit his lies, and he will because he won't want to be a bad boy and keep lying to his Daddy.
They say you can't change people but if I can take a mobster’s son and turn him into someone willing to submit and surrender to me, then the world could be free of one less monster.
Instead of being out there out of my reach, he'll be right here in my bed and arms. Footsteps approach me from behind and I turn around while continuing to stir the food in the pot. “Hey, Little Dove. Ready to eat?”
“If I have to.”
“You can try for me, can't you? Don't you like being Daddy's good boy?”
He fumbles with his hands, nodding. “Yes.”
I fill a bowl of rice atole and hand it to him. “Then go eat at least half of this and I'll give you a little reward.”
