The Devil's Daughter

by Ophelia Bell

  Ben doesn’t seem so easily swayed. He leans forward, looking Papá directly in his eyes. “How long did it go on? You and Mami. Did you love her at all, or was she just an outlet?”

  “Hermano, we don’t need to know the details,” I say.

  Papá sighs and shakes his head. “It was only once. Your mother has always been a kindhearted, nurturing woman. I was lost, lonely. She comforted me. As to your other question, I cared deeply for her then, which was why I wouldn’t let her quit working for me after it happened. She feared for her honor because I was a married man. She didn’t stop worrying until Lola came home and talked to her, made her understand that there was no jealousy, that she and I had kept this arrangement for some time by then.”

  He trails off, pain ghosting across his features. “When Elena learned she was pregnant, it was only a few weeks after Lola found out she was too. Lola was the one who chose Hector Quiñones from among my closest lieutenants. She orchestrated the match for the two of them, made sure your mother was happy with it, and that they were married before the baby came.”

  Spreading his hands palms-down on the tabletop, he looks at us both again. “Your mother was like family to us almost from the beginning, and even closer than that, once your sister was born. Even though you are not mine by blood, I love you like sons. I only want happiness for you both, so I had to come here tonight. To clear the air, because this distance you keep is only hurting Elena. It’s bad enough that it’s still too dangerous for Antonia to visit. Losing both of you at the same time when we’re all still under threat from Amador…”

  He shakes his head and sighs, leaning back and finally taking a slow sip of his Scotch, savoring it before saying, “You don’t have to forgive me, but at least call your mother and forgive her.”

  It’s so alien, sitting here while the man I looked up to most in the world, believed was infallible, bares his soul to us. Even though it’s just the tiniest peek, the level of vulnerability he shows leaves me at a loss.

  Across from me, Ben leans over his drink, staring into the glass. Then he clears his throat and looks at Papá, glassy-eyed. “I can’t speak for Baz, but I think I can manage that.”

  Papá’s expression softens and he looks at me, hopeful.

  “Fuck,” I mutter, emotion clogging my throat. “Fine, but I hope you realize I will never think of Elle Santos as my sister.”

  Ben gives me a look of horror, and it hits me what I just gave away by saying what I did. But it’s too late. Arturo’s eyes narrow and he leans forward. “Is there something I should know?”

  “You’re telling me you don’t already?” Ben challenges before I can find the words to answer. “You know our lives inside out. You haven’t already guessed?”

  Papá leans back, regarding Ben intently. “Yes, but I want to hear you say it.”

  “We’re in love with her,” he says. “Have been for years.”

  “Which means you’ll die to protect her. I don’t see this as a failing.”

  “We found out recently that the feeling is mutual,” I say.

  This admission makes his eyebrows rise.

  “Ah,” he says, frowning and staring toward the interior of the yacht. His jaw works as he ponders this news. Then he looks at me. “You wouldn’t lie to me, would you?”

  “What? Hell no!” I sit back, shocked he’d even ask.

  “Then tell me whether Drake also shares these feelings, or if I need to kill him for touching her.”

  My breath leaves my lungs and Ben goes pale. He sputters, then manages to blurt. “Y-Yes, he does. He’s pretty much as wrecked as we are. It was his idea that we even tell you the truth.”

  “Yeah, definitely no need for killing to happen,” I say, feeling like an idiot the second the words are out. But Arturo’s dark look still terrifies me, and I worry for all our lives despite the positive reaction to what Ben and I just confessed.

  “And you two have no issues with this fact?”

  I swallow, looking to Ben to answer for us both, since he has far more at stake than I do. His cheeks turn red and he clears his throat. I can practically hear the gears turning as he prepares to answer.

  “Drake and I … well, let’s just say we have more common ground than our feelings for Elle. We’re fully invested.”

  I’m on the verge of a panic attack. The knowledge that our former boss was at one point in a polyamorous relationship isn’t enough to settle my nerves. It’s barely a rumor, though Leo wouldn’t have lied to us about it, and the fact that he has zero issues with both his oldest daughter’s lovers living under his own roof should be enough confirmation. That doesn’t mean he’d be okay with another daughter embarking on a similar relationship, and with three men instead of two.

  Eventually Papá sighs and rises, heading inside. As he passes me, I swear I hear him mutter something in Spanish that sounds like, “Dios nos salve a todos de las mujeres testarudas.”

  God save us all from headstrong women.

  29

  Elle

  “I need to speak with my daughter alone,” Arturo says when he enters the lounge, the twins close behind. He looks Drake in the eyes, and I just know the twins told him the truth already. I suppose the fact that they’re still alive should be a good sign, but now I’m a bit terrified of what he wants to say to me.

  Drake doesn’t budge, though. Instead he glances at me, gaze searching, as if he’ll stay put if I ask. I smile and nod. “I’ll be fine.”

  He takes a breath, then nods and steps closer on his way past, bending to give me a quick peck on the cheek. He darts a challenging look at my father before disappearing back down the corridor with the twins.

  “How much did they tell you?” I ask.

  “Enough. But I know enough about my daughters not to test any of you. I made that mistake with Celeste, and I still regret it, even though she’s since forgiven me for what I did to Maddox. I didn’t believe he was worthy of her then, and while I stand by that assessment, I should not have hurt him.”

  “Then why did you?” I ask, sitting back down for what I imagine might be a long conversation, if this is where he’s starting it.

  He shakes his head, then spies the wet bar and walks to it, pouring himself a drink. “Would you like anything, mija?”

  I glance at my Shirley Temple, then push it away. “Whatever you’re having.”

  He pours two glasses and carries them over, handing me one before settling in the adjacent armchair. I take a fortifying sip, waiting for his answer.

  He stares into his glass, enduring some kind of internal struggle before he looks up to meet my eyes. What I see is perplexing, though—his stern expression eases into one of wonder, and the utter adoration in his eyes hits me at my core. He doesn’t even need to explain now, but I still listen.

  “Because I believed he was his father’s son—that he would treat her the way Julian Santos treated your mother—and I could not allow that to happen.”

  I grit my teeth against sharp anger rising through what had been a willingness to accept everything he said at face value. Anger I didn’t know I’d harbored, but kept buried ever since learning the truth. “You knew what he did, but you didn’t bother to put a stop to it. How does that make you any better a father? You could have been there for my mother. For me!”

  He winces, and I know I’ve struck home. He starts to speak, then stops, closing his eyes and shaking his head.

  “I will always regret obeying your mother’s wishes that I keep my distance. But I made her a promise never to get involved. I think she only stayed with him because she knew the very second she showed a desire to leave, I would step in and remove him from her life permanently. She endured what she did to protect Julian’s life, and as long as he remained in the picture, I had to stay out of the way. That meant staying away from you as well, because claiming you while he was alive would have made things worse.”

  “But he was awful to her, to my brothers…”

  “But not to you.�
�

  I shake my head, forced to agree on that one point. “I was nonexistent to him. Just like I was to you all those years.”

  The accusation does its job, a pained look crossing his face. “I did pay attention. I enrolled Celeste in dance classes so I could keep an eye on your mother, and then later on, you. I was there as much as I had a right to be. I know you were always a bright child; you did well in school, so well you graduated a year early. I have been so proud of you, Arielle. As proud as I am of any of my daughters.”

  I grit my teeth against the onslaught of frustration and hurt almost twenty years in the making.

  “If you were so proud, why weren’t you there? I practically grew up without a dad. Mom said she loved you once, before she married Julian. You two made me while they were together. Why couldn’t you…” I swallow a lump just to get the words out, tears already threatening. “Why couldn’t you save her from him? Didn’t you love us?”

  He leans forward and takes my hand, enveloping it in his bigger ones and squeezing. Then he reaches into his pocket and draws out a handkerchief that he raises to my cheek to dab at the tears that have started to fall.

  I stare, still half-enraged, unwilling to break down any more. My teeth are clamped so tight my jaw aches, and the small gesture nearly breaks me.

  “Celeste's mother was my soul mate, but Marcella—your mother—was the first woman I ever loved. That you exist is a miracle to me, mija. That you are at all willing to be in my life is the greatest gift you can imagine. I have regrets—things I would change if I could go back to the beginning—but I wouldn’t change anything that might mean not having you or your sisters. I am here now. If you will let me, I would like to be a father to you.”

  He tucks the hanky into one hand and squeezes the other, looking into my eyes expectantly. I wipe my nose on the soft fabric, sniffle, and then sigh, squeezing back.

  “What does that even mean? I’ve been a Santos all my life. Do I change my name? Do I move back to LA?”

  A surprised look crosses his face and he lets out a deep chuckle. “Not unless that’s what you want. Being my daughter only means you will have my support in anything you choose to do. I may be scary to some, but I’m not a tyrant. I take your safety and happiness very seriously, but you will never have to fear me, mija.”

  I nod and attempt a smile, then give him a more serious look. “What about Drake and the twins? Do they have anything to fear from you?”

  He sits back with a sigh, his eyes narrowing again. “Only if they hurt you. The twins tell me the four of you are… more than friends. I won’t pretend to be happy about the situation, but I’ve learned that love is a far more complicated animal than most believe. The biggest mistake I made in my life was losing sight of what mattered, what was possible.”

  He trails off, his jaw clenching as he stares into the distance. I only know the barest gist of his history, so I hesitate to broach the topic. I’m his daughter, so wouldn’t it be strange to share a frank conversation about our love lives?

  But I am desperate to know this man, to have the kind of relationship I always craved from a dad: one that’s open and honest and kind. And I believe I have a little perspective now that I didn’t have before.

  “Did you love him?” I venture in a soft voice. The only sign that he hears me is the slightest twitch of his brows and a glimmer of pain in his eyes. His nostrils flare, and he clenches his jaw before redirecting his gaze to me.

  “I loved them both too much to describe. Lola and Amador were two halves to a coin. When I first met her, she was already part of his life. They’d been together for a few months when I moved back to Mexico after Marcella rejected me.” He gives me a sad smile.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, not sure how else to respond.

  He shakes his head and waves a hand. “It wasn’t your fault. She didn’t believe I was a stable prospect. Marcella wanted a home, a family. Julian was willing to give her what I wasn’t able to, or so she believed. Even though I knew it, it hurt. I couldn’t stay in LA. Amador offered me sanctuary. He was my oldest, dearest friend, which is saying quite a lot at the age we were then. Your age.”

  “You were only twenty?” I ask, surprised by this detail.

  He chuckles and nods. “I was twenty-two, Amador was twenty. Lola was nineteen. We believed we could conquer the world together, or at least Los Angeles. We did, in a sense. And a good part of Mexico too. We became unstoppable for several years.

  “I moved back to LA because I knew the area better. Lola split her time between us. But we were always happiest when we were together in Mexico. She showed me it was possible to find love again—not only that, I’d had it all this time. Vicente … my best friend, had been there, yet I’d never truly seen him. She showed me what I was missing, and between the two of them, I truly understood how rich I was.

  “I loved them both, and I destroyed us because I couldn’t see past my prejudice to the truth.”

  A movement in the corridor catches my eye, and I see Ben leaning against the wall in the shadows, frowning as he stares at the floor and listens. I don’t give him away, because I think he needs to hear this as much as my father needs to say it.

  “So let my experience be a cautionary tale for you, mija. Our empire split down the middle when Lola died, but in truth, the divide occurred much earlier, before she learned she was pregnant with Celeste. I couldn’t come to terms with these new feelings I had for my old friend—feelings I believed were wrong.

  “At first I told myself it was only pleasure that mattered—that we did what we did to please her more than ourselves—but Vicente saw things differently. He wanted more of me, outside the bedroom. In my mind, this was not a proper way for men like us to behave. It was my rejection of the truth that started our empire crumbling, that left us vulnerable. That ultimately allowed some enemy to break us in two.

  “I have very few regrets, mija, but one that haunts me the most is never admitting my love for him. He was always a passionate man who loved with his entire being, who deserved that love to be returned. It is my fault Toni was taken to try to force my hand, to force me to give him Celeste. It is my fault you are in this position. If I had not withheld my love, everything would be different.”

  I give in to the impulse to reach out and take his hand this time. I think of the secret-filled thumb drive my brother gave me, commanding me to commit all the intel to memory so I would have ammunition if I was ever taken. There are only hints of what happened to Lola Flores, but enough evidence to suggest either Vicente Amador or Arturo Flores could have had her killed, based on their estrangement.

  But that theory never made sense to me, once I found the scanned journal entries of hers that were included in the files. She loved both men and wanted nothing more than for them to patch things up, something she seemed very close to accomplishing. After these confessions, that either man could have killed her makes even less sense now.

  “So you know he didn’t kill her,” I say.

  He shakes his head and squeezes my hand. “I think I always knew it wasn’t him. And I believe he knew it wasn’t me. If either of us had solid proof, one of us would have been dead years ago.”

  “Why are you telling me all this?” I ask, pleased, yet completely caught off-guard by his outpouring of honesty.

  “Because I want you to keep your eyes wide open, mija. And tell your three men to do the same. And know that no matter what shape love takes for you, I will accept it if you believe it’s true. Because denying love is a path to ruin.”

  He reaches out and cups the back of my head then, pulling me in to lay a chaste kiss on my forehead. When I look up again, Ben is gone, but I hope he stayed to the end.

  30

  Ben

  Eavesdropping isn’t my style. I was only stepping in to tell Elle and Arturo that dinner was about to be served, but when I heard the first bit of his confession of love for a man we all believed was a monster, I was frozen.

  I walk back down
the corridor in a daze after hearing the rest, too many thoughts tumbling through my head to pin down. Drake and Baz are leaning over the rail, and turn when they hear me approach.

  “Are they coming?” Drake asks, glancing behind me.

  I don’t answer. I just close the distance, hook my hand around the back of his neck, and kiss him. He tenses at first, then eases into me with a low groan, opening to my thrusting tongue until we’re both breathless, our cocks hard where our hips nudge close. His reaction tells me everything I need to know.

  When I pull away, I rest my forehead against his, but don’t release my hold on him.

  “What the hell was that for?” he asks, his voice rough.

  “We can never let anything come between us, okay?” I turn to Baz, who stands looking at us, a deep frown on his face. I reach for my brother, clamping my hand around the back of his neck and squeezing. “You got it, hermano? Nothing comes between the three of us. If we’re going to protect Elle, we have to be on the same page. We have to be completely honest about how we feel.”

  “And how is that?” Drake asks.

  His gaze is intense, searching, when I turn back to meet his eyes.

  “I’m falling for you. Maybe not as hard as I fell for Elle, but the feelings are there and they’re not going away. I want more for us. More than just being bookends to her. I need you to know that.” I turn to Baz. “And I need you to be okay with it. You won’t lose me if you’re part of this.”

  He gives a quick shake of his head, and claps a hand on both my shoulder and Drake’s. “I’m in, brother.”

  “Promise you’re not holding back?” I ask.

  He glances at Drake and chuckles. “Dude, if you think I’m going to confess I’m into Drake’s dick as much as you, I’m sorry. Trust me, if I change my mind, you’ll be the first to know. But Elle… I’m all-in for her, and you know it. Now do you want to clue us in on exactly what prompted this?”