I nod in response to his question since I’m finished eating and wait. He is not a man who enjoys being sedentary, which ensures he’ll expect me to do something here shortly.
“Please choose your attire and keep in mind that we’re not here to socialize,” he says. “You may use the shower and anything else you require, but be sure to finish within a reasonable amount of time.”
I have the urge to salute him because of his authoritative tone. Instead, I nod like I always do and then get to my feet. He follows me with his gaze and I pretend not to notice as I walk over to the dresser and pick up what I'm supposed to wear. It's a traditional Guatemalan skirt that’s brightly colored with pinks, blues, and purples, separated with thin strips of white. The peasant top has a square neckline with frilly edges on the neck and sleeves. It’s a lovely ensemble, but this trip is not conducive to wearing skirts, dresses, or anything of that sort, yet that’s what I’ve been given. I’d love to have a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, but local customs must be observed, and I don’t want to draw unnecessary attention anyway.
Once I’m alone in the bathroom with the door locked, I lean against it and exhale. Tristano is overbearing, arrogant, and demanding. I remind myself that I’ll only be around him for a little longer and then I can relax. Or try to. I’m uncertain of the dynamic between Rafael, Carina, and myself, which is a huge concern for me.
How am I going to fit into their lives?
A knock on the bathroom door, which is closer to someone pounding on it, has a shriek erupting from my throat. I spin to face it and stupidly wait for Tristano to burst through the wood.
“Don’t lock this door or any other,” he says, his voice easily heard from the other side.
I glare in his direction. Does he really think I’ll shower with the door unlocked?
“Did you hear what I said?” he asks, his tone more severe than before. “If I have to break down this door, you’re going to beextremelycontrite by the time I get through with you.”
With a huff I mockingly salute him, right before I flip the lock’s position. He’s quick to pull it open and we stare at one another, me with my eyes narrowed in irritation and him sporting a mild scowl. He cocks his head and there’s a slight lift of his brows.
“Is there a problem, signorina?”
I give a minute shake of my head, still glaring.
“Be grateful I’m allowing you to shut the door.”
I take the quickest shower in history.
It’s not because I believe Tristano is so attracted to me that he can’t keep his eyes off me. It’s because he’s the only one of us comfortable with nudity. I’ve hated my breasts and hips for as long as they’ve been rounded and large, knowing it’d only bring unwanted attention from men. And it did. Carina and I were the recipients of licentious gazes and lewd gestures for the majority of our teenage years.
Men are fucking disgusting like that.
There’s no need to prance around Tristano and unknowingly invite him to pursue me sexually. However, he’s theonlyman I wouldn’t mind chasing me.
If Tristano wasn’t related to my sister’s lover…
I’m quick to style my hair in a French braid, hoping it’ll keep the long strands from getting in my way and annoying me. A travel case of makeup was also delivered and I choose to utilize only the moisturizer and chapstick. Like Tristano said, I’m not here to socialize, and for the first time I don’t have to dress myself up to be on display.
I can simply be myself.
Who is that exactly?
The question stops me short and I halt in the middle of putting on my clothes. That provoking line of thought leaves me staring blankly ahead with my mouth slack.
It’s always been Carina and me…
A razor-sharp pain slices into my heart and I clench the shirt in my hands and bring it to my chest as if it’ll soothe me. Breathing is a struggle and I do my best to extricate my mind from the original inquiry or I won’t be able to function, let alone breathe. Imagining Tristano bursting through the door to find me half-dressed is enough of an incentive for me to gather myself.
When I finally walk out of the bathroom, Tristano’s gaze zips to me and lingers. He peruses me from head to toe and I fist my hands to keep from fidgeting under the blatant inspection. After he’s finished assessing me, or whatever he was doing, he gives me a curt nod.
“That’s suitable.”
I don’t say anything, of course, but I also refuse to answer in a non-verbal way as well. Let him think what he wants. I’m here because he forced me to be, not for any other reason, so his approval or lack thereof doesn’t mean anything. As long as Tristano doesn’t make good on his earlier threat to spank me, I’ll be fine.
I mentally toss that prohibited type of introspection into the same locked chest as my unknown identity. They both can stay there until I’m strong enough to think on them without losing my breath, that reaction stemming from different reasons. One is sexual and the other is terrifying.
Both are overwhelming.
Tristano jerks his chin at the empty chair across from him. “Come sit. We need to talk.”
