by Julia Sykes
“Whatever, warden,” I snapped back.
There was a long, ominous pause. “Your attitude now changes nothing, Sofia,” he warned darkly. “Disobedience means consequences. Be at the table in twenty minutes.”
He didn’t have to say or else for the threat to come through loud and clear. I wasn’t certain how he would discipline me, but something unpleasant would happen if I defied him.
“Fine!”
A low growl slipped through the door, and I knew the barrier wouldn’t serve to keep the beast at bay if I riled him further.
I held my breath, nervous tension gripping my body, until the angry thud of his heavy footfalls signaled his retreat down the hall.
My fingers trembled slightly when I picked up my pen, so I firmed my grip. My hand cramped in protest. I’d been writing song lyrics for hours, scribbling out my fury non-stop. Most of what I’d written out wasn’t remotely cohesive, but this was the only way I knew to purge the toxic emotions roiling within me. If I didn’t put pen to paper, I might be tempted to use the razor in the bathroom and siphon off my pain a different way.
My fingers tensed around the pen, and a dark navy blotch bled onto the page.
I’m not doing that. I’m not going to cut.
I didn’t stop writing until I heard the doorbell ring. Adrián and Valentina had arrived, and that meant I needed to get to the dining table.
I hadn’t made note of the time, and all I could do was hope that I was within the twenty-minute deadline that Mateo had imposed.
I set aside my journal and got to my feet, stretching out the kinks in my muscles from remaining curled up on the bed for too long.
When I poked my head into the hallway, the incredible scent of Mateo’s cooking wafted toward me.
A heartless criminal shouldn’t be capable of making heavenly-smelling tamales.
Mateo isn’t heartless, the stupid part of my brain told me.
I mentally smacked down that ridiculous naivete. It kept getting me into trouble, and I wouldn’t make that same mistake again. As nice as it would be to pretend that Mateo was a sweet, gentle man, that simply was not an accurate assessment. Pretending and wishing wouldn’t make that fantasy a reality.
“It smells wonderful, Mateo.” I heard Valentina’s soft voice as I made my way toward the delicious scent. “I didn’t realize you knew how to cook.”
“Mateo isn’t a man of many talents, but he’s incredibly accomplished in his limited areas of expertise,” Adrián said drily.
“Do you want dinner or not, asshole?” Mateo shot back.
“Do you want my help or not?” Adrián drawled. “I’m doing you a favor. Dinner is the least you can offer me in order to express your gratitude.”
I lingered down the hallway, listening in on their conversation to ascertain the purpose of this visit.
“Adrián, I came here for Sofia,” Valentina insisted, her tone sharper than I ever would have dared with the terrifying drug lord.
“You’re very sweet, conejita,” he purred. “But Mateo is taking up the time I’m supposed to be spending alone with you. That’s invaluable, so it’s going to take a lot more than home-cooked tamales and a shitty attitude to repay me for this.”
“How is she?” Valentina asked, ignoring Adrián and directing her questions at Mateo. “Do you think she’ll want to see me?”
I wasn’t certain what the dispute between the two men was about, but it was clear that Valentina had come to Mateo’s house for the sole purpose of comforting me.
I was stunned by her concern about my wellbeing as a hostage when my father had condemned her to brutal abuse. Valentina’s kindness compelled me to join the group, even though Mateo’s nearness grated on me.
“I told her to come out for dinner,” Mateo said. “She should be—”
“She’s right here,” I announced coldly, striding into the open-plan living room/kitchen space.
I felt Mateo’s black gaze like sandpaper on raw skin, and I resolutely suppressed the reflex to cringe away from him.
Adrián’s striking, luminous green eyes were almost as unbearably intense as Mateo’s.
I focused intently on Valentina. The petite brunette had warm, chocolate eyes and a sympathetic smile. She slipped out of Adrián’s hold to offer me a hug, her arms outstretched but waiting for me to come to her.
The tiny woman was several inches shorter than me, but her embrace was fierce; a comfort to me and a warning to the men. Solidarity had been declared.
“I’m so glad to see you, Sofia,” she said, giving me an extra little squeeze before stepping back. “I’ve been thinking about you constantly. Mateo promised Adrián that you were comfortable here, but I want there to be a direct line of communication between you and me. Can we get to know each other better over dinner and exchange numbers after?”
“Yeah,” I agreed, my heart twisting at the vehement declaration of concern and support. “I’d like that.”
“That’s settled, then,” Adrián declared, impatient. He grabbed Valentina’s wrist and tugged her back to him, jealously guarding her attention. “Let’s eat.”
He started walking in the direction of the dining room, as though he was in his own home. Valentina shot me an apologetic smile, but she edged closer to Adrián, clearly loving his harsh affection.
When I didn’t move right away, Mateo reached for me, like he expected to hold my hand, too.
I recoiled, panic spiking. I wasn’t afraid that Mateo would hurt me; I was afraid of how I might react if I allowed him to touch me. It would be so much easier to forget all the awful things he had done to me—kidnapping me, bargaining for my virginity—if he held me with tenderness.
His hand curled to a fist, his huge body coiled tight.
“You’re already late,” he informed me tightly when I didn’t follow Adrián and Valentina to the dinner table. “Don’t test me.”
My stomach flipped, the little thrill elicited by his low threat caught somewhere between arousal and fear. I remembered how good it felt when he’d disciplined me before, when he’d spanked me and put his big hands all over my body. But to melt beneath his touch now might break me. If he forced his attention on me, I was certain my body would react, whether my mind welcomed it or not.
I followed after Valentina, skirting around Mateo’s bulk. He caught up with me in a few long strides, arriving at the dining table in time to pull out my chair for me. As I shifted to lower myself into it, he brushed his palm against the small of my back, pushing my boundaries with the guise of support.
I jerked away from him, too frazzled to retain my balance properly. His hands bracketed my waist before I could stumble. I stiffened and tried to twist out of his hold, my heart hammering against my ribcage. His thick fingers curved into my hips, branding my flesh through my clothes.
“Let me go,” I demanded. His proprietary hold felt far too good, and his refusal to release me heightened my distress.
“No,” he growled. “I’m not going to let you fall.”
“Let go.” I shoved at his granite chest.
His black brows drew together, his mouth harsh with grim determination. “I know you want me to hold you.”
“Stop it!” I insisted, panicking.
Adrián sighed loudly, but Valentina jumped straight into the conflict.
“Back off, Mateo!” she commanded.
Adrián didn’t seem to realize just how incensed she was on my behalf, because he didn’t move quick enough to restrain her from coming to my aid. She inserted herself directly into Mateo’s hulking shadow, glaring up at him. Her chocolate eyes were dark with rage, her full lips drawn thin with fury.
“Valentina,” Adrián said, her name sharp with censure. “This is Mateo’s business, not yours.”
She rounded on Adrián. “I will not allow this to continue,” she seethed, her small body practically vibrating with fury. “I know what it’s like being the object of a man’s obsession when the attention is unwelcome. I’m not go
ing to sit here and make nice over Mateo’s tamales if he’s forcing himself on Sofia.”
Mateo hissed and dropped his hands from my body as though I’d burned him.
“It’s not like that,” he ground out.
Her ferocious glare softened when she focused on me, but the aggression didn’t ease from her petite frame. “Do you want Mateo to touch you?”
“No,” I whispered, so grateful for the woman’s intervention that tears sprang to my eyes.
“Then he won’t.” She issued the edict with another hard glare at Mateo. She held the scathing look for several long seconds before turning back to me with a gentler expression. “Can we eat dinner, just the two of us? The men will give us privacy, and we can talk. Is that okay with you?”
“Yeah,” I agreed, swiping a stray tear from my cheek. “Thanks.”
“Adrián.” She addressed the fearsome man with a much more deferential tone. “Could you and Mateo eat in the kitchen, please?”
“This isn’t what we talked about,” Mateo countered roughly.
Valentina fixed him with a frigid stare. “You asked for my help. I am helping Sofia.”
“I’m not a threat to her,” he argued.
“That’s enough, Mateo,” Adrián snapped. “You’re really fucking up my entire day. If you want to live to see the end of it, do as Valentina says. And serve me the fucking dinner you promised me. I’m starving.”
Mateo dug in his heels, his black eyes flashing.
“Kitchen. Now,” Adrián bit out, staring down the much larger man.
Mateo spat a curse and stormed out of the dining room, his bulging muscles flexing with frustration.
“Thank you, Adrián,” Valentina said, all softness and gratitude now that the threat had retreated.
He dropped a quick kiss on her forehead, pulling her into a firm embrace. His unnerving, pale green eyes fixed on me.
“I’ll make sure Mateo doesn’t step out of line,” he swore.
His intense gaze shifted back to Valentina, including her in the promise. “I won’t allow him to abuse Sofia. I know what this means to you. I’ll take care of it.”
My gut twisted into knots. Mateo hadn’t abused me, and I didn’t think he ever would. Not really.
But if he subjected me to his mercilessly tender attentions, I would fall for him. I would get hurt again and again, deluding myself into forgetting he was a bad man only to be reminded by cruel circumstances.
My heart wouldn’t survive it.
Valentina’s staunch solidarity and Adrián’s promise were all I had to prevent me from succumbing to Mateo’s allure and suffering under his achingly gentle hands.
Chapter 17
Sofia
Three Weeks Later
* * *
I missed Mateo so much.
Every day, I saw the criminal who wore his face, but I longed for the man I’d thought he was: the domineering, gentle giant who told me I was perfect.
Don’t be stupid, I ordered myself every time I was tempted to fall back into his strong arms.
I was done being a stupid little girl. I was done being willfully ignorant.
Mateo had told me I was a fool for trusting everyone, and he’d been right. Just because he’d been sweet to me didn’t make him trustworthy. It didn’t make him a good man.
A good man wouldn’t have bargained for the rights to my body in a power struggle between drug lords. He wouldn’t plot to kill a rival just so he could claim my virginity for himself.
No part of that equation was good.
I walled off my heart—a practice that I’d never attempted before.
It was hard to remember to keep those walls up all the time. Like when Mateo cooked for me. Or when he drove me to class in one of his insanely expensive cars. Or when he brushed my body with his hand, sending unbidden heat pulsing through my system.
He only touched me occasionally, and I mostly believed it was accidental. But a few times, I’d caught him watching me when he made contact, as though assessing if I might welcome more.
I never did, even though forcing my body to move away from his caused a deep ache in the center of my chest.
The only thing that had kept me sane over the last three weeks was Valentina’s daily visits. We spent hours together every evening after I finished my classes. I introduced her to my favorite bands, and she introduced me to telenovelas—her guilty pleasure. I’d thought they were silly at first, but I was now completely absorbed in the drama.
We talked about everything from our favorite clothing designers to our hopes and dreams. I’d never had a close female friendship like it. I didn’t have to pretend with her or put on my best face. She’d seen me at my lowest point, and she still offered her friendship.
“Valentina’s coming over tonight,” I reminded Mateo as we pulled away from campus in his cherry red Porsche.
The polite thing to do would have been to ask for permission to invite a guest into his home. But there was nothing polite about him holding me hostage, so I wasn’t going to tiptoe around him and try to please him. I was done with such accommodating behavior.
“No, she’s not,” he informed me. “Adrián texted me while you were in class. Valentina is too stressed out about the wedding, and he won’t let her come over tonight. The rehearsal dinner is tomorrow, and she needs to rest and relax.”
“Oh,” I replied, my heart sinking. I’d come to rely on her daily company.
I hadn’t known her long, but Valentina obviously valued our friendship, too. She’d even asked me to be maid of honor at her wedding. Adrián had thrown boatloads of money around to arrange an LA wedding in a month. Apparently, he was impatient to make her his wife, and he was only allowing her this much time to plan because he wanted her to have a beautiful day to celebrate their union.
Her relationship with the cruel drug lord was very confusing to me, but we mostly avoided awkwardness over the subject. He made her happy, and that was what mattered. I was looking forward to standing beside her on her wedding day.
Even if it meant Mateo would be standing opposite me, taking his place as Adrián’s best man.
“I want to show you something,” Mateo said, his hands tense around the steering wheel. “I think I owe it to Adrián to do this before the wedding.” He cut his eyes over to me. “We’re going to have to be near each other for the ceremony.”
“It’ll be fine.” I waved away his concern, even though my anxiety had been building for days. I would have to take Mateo’s arm when we processed out of the church after the ceremony.
I could handle touching him for a few minutes just to make sure Valentina’s pictures looked nice.
“Maybe,” he allowed. “But before the big day, I’m going to try to make it so that you hate me a little less.”
“I don’t hate you,” I said truthfully before I could think about holding the words back.
“No,” he said on a low rumble. “I don’t think you do. You hate the idea of me you’ve built in your head over the last three weeks. You don’t hate the man I was when we were together.”
My heart twisted at the mention of that man. I wanted so badly for him to be real.
“I’m going to show you something that I never wanted you to see,” he continued, his huge body coiled tight from some invisible strain. “It might help you understand me better. I won’t pretend that I’m not a criminal. And I won’t lie to you and take back anything I told you about the circumstances surrounding your engagement. I did make a deal for your virginity. I would do it again if it meant keeping you from Ronaldo.” His knuckles turned white. “But I’ve decided to provide you with more context, so we’re taking a little field trip.”
“Where are we going?”
His rugged features twisted in a grimace. “Hell.”
We drove for half an hour, the tension growing thicker until the atmosphere inside the Porsche was nearly suffocating. The shining skyscrapers of the LA skyline fell into the distance as we drove away f
rom the glittering, opulent parts of the city and into ramshackle, impoverished neighborhoods.
Vibrant murals in bold colors broke up the wash of gray cement blocks and fading paint that flaked off dilapidated buildings. Graffiti was scrawled everywhere, the hastily-drawn marks so different from the artistry of the murals.
There were vast gaps between the buildings, sometimes taking up as much as half a city block. The spaces stood vacant; flat expanses of bare concrete behind chain-link fencing.
“That’s the new money coming in,” Mateo explained in a monotone, noting the direction of my gaze. “The only thing the gangs in this neighborhood hate more than each other is gentrification. Developers are buying up land they don’t even have a use for yet. They bulldoze the housing and pour concrete to mark their claimed territory. They’re pushing out the undesirables, displacing the communities steeped in crime that will damage their future business ventures.” He sneered the last, his disdain for the wealthy discernable in his disgusted tone.
Did he feel that same scorn toward me for my wealthy background? Mateo had told me he’d grown up poor, but now that he worked for Adrián, he had the same comforts and expendable income as my family did. He wasn’t poor anymore, but his feelings surrounding money were more complex than I could have fathomed.
I remained quiet, uncertain what to say. It was becoming clear to me that Mateo hated this place. It was also obvious that this was where he’d been raised.
He resented the rich men who were coming in and transforming the neighborhood, but he also held deep-seated contempt for the area.
As we drove past crumbling houses and old, beaten-up cars, Mateo’s scowl drew impossibly deeper.
The Porsche slowed in front of a sprawling, single-story building. It was utilitarian and blandly beige, and the only mark of character was the cartoon lion emblazoned on a banner that hung by the wide, glass front doors.
“This is where I went to school. For a while.” Mateo’s dark eyes were fixed on the building, as though he was focusing on some disturbing scene I couldn’t see.
