by J Q Anderson
“Dude, you’re a girl. Strawberry shower gel, ice cream, and a movie?” I plopped down next to him, propping my legs up next to his.
He wrapped his lips around the spoon and smiled as he pulled it out. “You—”
“I’ll take it to my grave.”
He eyed me and looked like he wanted to say something, and I took the remote from him. The heat from his body on my side was blazing. I was in pajama shorts, our bare legs almost touching. He placed his hand on my knee and it sent a shiver up my skin. I flinched and shifted, pretending to get comfortable.
“I’ve missed this,” he said in a soft voice, and for a moment, I thought he would make a pass at me. He held my gaze, a snap of electricity sparking between us. Then with a swift move, he snatched the remote out of my hand. “But I’m picking the movie tonight.” He grinned.
“You dick.” I reached for the remote, but he lifted it up high, laughing.
“I’m teaching you valuable distraction techniques. You’ve got a lot to learn.” He chuckled, flipping channels.
“I can still kick you out.”
“Look, Love Actually is on. We can watch it, again.” He got comfortable, and I laid my head on his shoulder. An image of Sebastián broke into my head, and my whole body tensed with guilt. I pulled away from Marcos, and before I realized, tears spilled down my cheeks.
“Ey…what’s the matter?” he said softly, turning to face me.
I shook my head.
“What is it?”
“Nothing.”
“Tell me.”
“Sebastián and I…are having problems.”
“Why?”
“It’s complicated. I’m going to bed.” I half stood but his hand grabbed mine.
“Wait.” He tugged. “Come here. Talk to me.”
“I don’t want to talk about it. I just want to go to sleep.”
His thumb stroked my hand. “I’m sorry.”
“Are you?”
“I don’t like seeing you like this.”
I nodded. “Good night.”
I lay in bed wide awake, going through the last month of my relationship with Sebastián: the hurdles of my crazy schedule, the tension about Marcos, Julián, Mercedes, Pedro Medina. But over all that was the boundless love I felt for him. What we had was real. Deep inside, I knew how hard this was for him, too, but admitting it meant willingly letting go of the best thing that had ever happened to me. Fuck if everything we overcame to be together in the last months had been for nothing, and in the end, Don Martín and his clan had won. Julián’s torturing words circled in my head.
The family business will always get in the way.
Soft knocks on the front door woke me. I winced at my bedside clock—7:00 a.m. Shit. Who in the hell knocked at this hour? Nata wasn’t home and Marcos was a deep sleeper, so I mumbled a curse and kicked off the duvet.
From my bedroom doorway, I blinked a few times before the scene in the main room fully registered. My body instinctively froze while my heart kick-drummed my ribcage.
Marcos, still in his boxers and shirtless, was holding the front door open, rubbing the back of his head as he yawned. On the other side, Sebastián’s frame towered over him. Even from where I was, the anger in Sebastián’s expression was visible. Shit. Where the fuck was Marcos’s shirt? Sebastián’s gaze flew to me then back to Marcos, scanning him from head to toe.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Sebastián’s tone was low, charged. My pulse sprinted.
“Do come in.” Marcos stepped aside and reached for his shirt, meeting my panicked eyes before turning back to Sebastián. “Don’t worry,” he said in a lower voice. “You didn’t interrupt anything.”
Sebastián’s hand forcefully gripped Marcos’s neck. “I said you were all out of warnings, asshole.” He shoved him back and punched him under the ribs, knocking the air from Marcos’s lungs.
Marcos gasped and doubled over. “Fuck.”
“Stop!” I bolted forward, but before I could reach them, Marcos swung at Sebastián, who swiftly dodged it and threw another whiplash punch, this time on Marcos’s chin, knocking him to the ground.
“That one’s from before,” Sebastián snarled. “Now get the fuck out.”
Stepping between them, I gripped Sebastián’s shirt at the chest, pushing him back and away from Marcos.
“Enough! What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Sebastián’s eyes were trained on Marcos who was standing painfully.
“Are you okay?” I said to Marcos.
“Yeah,” he said, wiping blood off his lip as he exhaled through flared nostrils. “I think your boyfriend forgot to take his meds.” Picking up his jeans and shoes, he headed to the door, his eyes blazing as he darted a look at Sebastián, then me. “Catch you later, babe.”
Sebastián’s eyes stayed on the open door even though Marcos was gone.
“He spent the night?” A muscle ticked in his jaw.
“He just crashed on the couch. He needed a place to stay. Besides, that’s no longer your business, is it?” I said acidly.
“Why is this guy in your apartment in his fucking underwear?”
“Like I said, no longer your business. What are you even doing here? And it’s seven in the morning.”
“I don’t like the way we left things. I wanted to make sure you understood.”
“Well, I don’t.”
“Camila, please,” he said, standing closer. I leaned against the back of the couch, wrapping my arms around myself to somehow block him out. But I could feel him, the heat from his body, his scent, and it all worked in unison to torture me.
“Please don’t,” I said, looking down to hide the tears that threatened, the burning ache in my throat.
He let out a heavy breath. “This is a very important moment in your career. I know New York is what you’ve worked for every day since you first put on ballet shoes, to dance on that stage, walk the city streets as a professional dancer, the way your mother did. You need to be focused, or this amazing opportunity will pass you by while you get consumed in all this mess with my father. You have so many great things ahead, and right now I’m in your way.”
I wiped the tears off my cheeks with the back of my hand. “Ironic, I thought it was me who was in your way.”
“Come here.” He pulled me into his arms and hugged me tight. I fought the sobs that escaped while a flash flood of anguish and loss washed through me. We stayed like that for a long moment, relishing the warmth of our bodies pressed together, unable to let go.
“I love you, Camila. Like I’ve never loved anyone. That’s why I have to let you go.”
“I’ll wait,” I said, not caring about how desperate I sounded.
“No. I can’t ask you that. This war is far from over, and the farther you are from me, the safer you and your family will be. My brave, crazy girl. Go after your dreams.” He squeezed his arms around me one last time, then kissed my head, and walked out.
Chapter 38
The next day I drifted through classes and rehearsals like a zombie. Marcos seemed sore but otherwise okay, and I was glad neither of us wanted to talk about what had happened.
I told Nata about my breakup with Sebastián that night. I must have been a real mess, because she cried about it. We ate frozen yogurt for dinner, and then I went to bed. Clutching my pillow, I let new tears soak the cotton. It was as if part of me had left with him, and all that was left of me was a shell, a snakeskin. I never imagined that much physical pain was possible.
That night a new routine began—I held in my feelings all day, and then at night, once I was alone, I cried myself to sleep.
In the days that followed, I poured my soul into dancing, repeating to myself it was all I needed. The only thing that was truly mine and nobody could take away. Outside of the theater, I was a ghost. I stared at the phone and contemplated calling Sebastián a thousand times, just to hear his voice. But what would I say? He didn’t call either. Not once. Did h
e miss me as much as I missed him?
That week I saw black BMWs everywhere, mocking me. I had never noticed how many people in Buenos Aires drove one. Sometimes when I came home in the evenings, there was one parked in a far corner. Was it him? Was it Rafa keeping vigil? Or was my longing to see Sebastián playing tricks with my mind? Nothing seemed real, and the only thing that pulled me forward were my alternate lives as Queen Myrta and Princess Aurora.
Closing night for Giselle was three days away, and I took advantage of my newly found free time to stay in the studio after hours and work incessantly on my variations. Dancing to exhaustion felt good. It was the only thing that distracted me from the huge void left by Sebastián. I became a machine, focusing only on what I needed to be a better dancer. Heart, answered Papá’s voice in my head. I squashed it. My heart was locked up.
Madame seemed pleased with my increased effort, and the excitement for the upcoming trip to New York was quickly building in the company. Still, a part of me felt empty. I missed him. Every night on the way home, I wished I could talk to him, tell him how nervous I was about New York. My dream was so close. He would be happy for me and rationalize my fears to make it all better. The memories of our time together haunted me: his smile when our eyes met at a pause in the soccer game with the kids, finding my clothes neatly folded on a chair after I had left them all over the floor the night before, a box from his neighborhood bakery with my favorite vanilla cupcake waiting on the counter, curling up with him by the fireplace while he massaged my battered feet. I missed him. I missed him so much.
Chapter 39
The moment the music stopped on closing night for Giselle, the crowd exploded in a deafening applause. We took our bows, and as the curtain closed for the last time, I hugged Nata tightly.
In the dressing room, she changed quickly into her street clothes. Knowing she had fans gathering at the entrance, I told her not to wait; I would take my time getting out of my costume.
Once I had changed, I scurried out the side door with my head low. Dodging the photographers, I scanned the familiar faces, searching for Nata to let her know I was skipping the celebration dinner. I froze when I saw Mercedes standing a few steps back. A tremor rattled me from inside.
With a bodyguard flanking behind her, she cut through the crowd towards me. A flicker of hope that he would be there tingled in my chest.
“He wasn’t lying. You’re very good,” she said dismissively as she got closer.
“Thank you.” I scanned the crowd behind her.
“He’s not here,” she murmured, reading my thoughts and watching my reaction.
“Well…thanks for coming. I have to go.” I turned, but she caught my arm.
“Wait,” she said. I glowered at her, and she let go. “I need to speak to you.”
“About?”
“Not here.”
“It’s not a good time. I’m really tired.”
“I need you to listen to me. Please.” Her expression softened. Suddenly she looked desperate.
I let out an irritated sigh. “Make it quick.”
“Sebastián got himself in a stupid war with his father. And it’s not just Don Martín, it’s the Medinas, too, and the other families. It’s your fault,” she sneered.
“My fault.”
“Yes! He was never really serious about leaving until he met you. You changed him, and now, because of you, he’s miserable. What the hell did you do to him?”
“I’ve got to go.”
“Wait.” She gripped my bicep again, and this time I yanked it away. “I need your help.”
“My help? Fuck off, Mercedes.” I pushed past her.
“Sebastián’s life is in danger. He needs your help.”
I stopped in my tracks and cursed inwardly. When I turned my head around, those emerald snake eyes met mine. There was a new, glassy sheen to them. Jesus, was she high?
“Just…listen, okay? Please,” she said, sounding almost normal. She stepped closer, hugging her coat. “The head of one of the other families, a guy named Gabriel García, is blackmailing me. He says he’s got information about a container of some Russian girls who went missing and it somehow implicates Sebastián and Julián. I have no idea what all that is about, but the container belonged to a guy called Ivanov, and he’s a scumbag of the worst kind.”
I shuddered inwardly at the mention of Ivanov. But Mercedes was a liar. I shrugged. “None of this has anything to do with me.”
“Yes, it does,” she spat out in a sudden burst of anger. “Gabriel is taking advantage of the situation between Sebastián and the Medinas. A pact prevents the Families to retaliate against each other. But, since Sebastián shot Pedro to save you, the pact is off for now, so we aren’t protected, Sebastián is not protected if García puts us against Ivanov.” She skeptically surveyed the dispersing crowd behind me, then pulled a tissue out of her pocket and dried her nose even though there was nothing there.
“What can you possibly want from me?”
She turned to her bodyguard, as if to check if he was still there. Then her gaze zoomed in on me. “I’m supposed to deliver half a million dollars to Gabriel on Monday at noon. That sonofabitch thinks he can get away with this.”
“Look—”
“I want you to tell your Russian friends to intercept the delivery. I want them to take Gabriel out.”
I chuckled humorlessly.
“I’m serious.”
I scowled. “Are you completely gone? Take him out? Besides, what makes you think the Zchestakovas would ever get involved in that? For you? Your brother loathes them.”
“He doesn’t.” She rolled her eyes. “And this is business. Gabriel’s territory overlaps with the Russians’. They’ve wanted him out of the game for years. Believe me, your friends will jump at this.”
“Yeah, I can’t wait to tell them.”
“You don’t get it. My brother would open the borders to all the Russians’ imports. They would have clear range to take over the Garcías’ markets. Your friends hate García. He’s the cause of all their problems. They’ve wanted his head ever since he pushed drugs through the docks and shot my brother’s men.”
“So it was him. Does your brother know?”
She rolled her eyes. “It doesn’t matter. This is their chance. Everyone wins.”
“Except the guy who gets shot.”
“It doesn’t need to come to that. He’ll chicken out when he sees a pack of Russians coming at him, and he’ll think twice before fucking with us again.”
I looked at her incredulously. Was she fucking serious? A thread of crimson blood trickled down her nose. Coke. I had seen almost identical behavior among some of the dancers at the theater. But Mercedes? She quickly pulled out the tissue and wiped it off.
“Are you okay?” I said in an emotionless tone.
“Yes. This goddamn cold,” she mumbled, avoiding my eyes.
“Why the Zchestakovas?” I muttered.
“Because this would benefit the Russians. Besides, they have a reputation for being…volatile. Even the most powerful among the Families stay away. Your friends’ network of hired guns is more extensive than most people imagine.”
“You have money. Hire your own people. Leave my friends out of this.” I turned, but she stepped ahead, blocking me.
“That’s where you’re wrong. Money isn’t where the Russians’ power lies. Your friends…they’re ruled by loyalty. None of their people would hesitate to put a bat to your head if you crossed a Zchestakova.” She sniffed. “If García has half a brain, he won’t even consider going against them. He would be going against the whole clan.”
“No. This is why Sebastián and I are not together. Find another way. Pay him off.”
“You don’t pay off people who blackmail you,” she snapped. “It would never stop, and Ivanov is dangerous. Christ, don’t you get it?”
“Then tell your brother…and Sebastián. Let them handle it.”
Her expression hardened, her
eyes scowling, incredulous. I wanted to take a step back but refrained.
“My brother and Sebastián cannot know about this. García was very specific, and he’s got a rat infiltrated somewhere. Do not say a word to Sebastián, you hear me? You would be putting him in danger.”
“I would be putting him in danger. Listen to yourself. Your whole plan is insane.” Now it was me who took a step closer. “I won’t be a part of anything that involves shooting anyone. If you think I would risk my friends getting hurt for you, you need to double up on your meds.” I turned away, but she grabbed my coat. “Stop grabbing me!” I yanked my coat away and she almost fell back. Despite her abrasive words, she seemed weak, pale, and fragile. I almost felt sorry for her.
“Talk to them,” she sneered. “An opportunity like this doesn’t come twice. It’s in the Russians’ best interest to help us. Here’s my number.” She slipped a card into a half-open pocket in my bag. I watched her skeletal hand retreat and narrowed my eyes.
“Is that a threat?”
“Sebastián needs your help, dammit. Do this for him. Here’s your chance to prove you’re more than the mousey little gold digger everyone thinks you are. Prove you belong in this family.”
“Fuck you. And stay the hell away from me.” I stormed off, clutching my bag tightly to rein back the sudden anger surging through me. My legs shook as I rushed to the corner where a cab waited for passengers. That bitch. I hurried into the back seat and gave the driver my address. Far behind, Mercedes got into a black Tesla.
On the short drive home, the conversation with Mercedes spun in my head. This was all too much. The images throbbed in my mind. Mercedes was on something. Was she a junkie? Jesus, what did I care? But Sebastián…Was he really in danger of Ivanov finding out it was he who helped those girls? Was Julián involved in that too? And Mercedes had mentioned an infiltrator… Someone had betrayed them? Who? I pushed the thought away. The whole point of our breakup had been for me not to be caught in the Palacios web anymore. Besides, I didn’t trust Mercedes, and this could very well be one of her brother’s schemes. I decided to leave the Zchestakovas out of it. Mercedes would have to find another way.
