Of course, Violetta is nothing like Aida. I wouldn’t mind myribelleshowing some emotion, or an expression without either cynicism or poignancy. I think she has the capability, but she’s buried it or forgotten to connect with her deeper and possibly more volatile feelings.
The formal dining room comes into view and my gaze immediately shoots to where Violetta sits, between Benito and my mother. Father Diego is across from them, next to Carlos. Octavia isn’t discreet about our arrival, though I wish she had been. It would’ve allowed me to evaluate the dynamics in the room without the group noticing, giving me a clearer picture since they wouldn’t have been as guarded.
Octavia sits at the head of the table and then leans her forearms on the linen draped over the surface, her flask cradled in her hands. Aida shoots her a scathing look that would’ve had me sitting up straight and muttering an apology if I were decades younger. My mother brings her gaze to me after, and there’s a softening in it that removes some of the aging from her face.
“Please join us,” she says.
I give her a curt nod and occupy the empty chair next to Benito. “Where is the host this evening?”
Octavia scoffs. “Where indeed? That is a good question.”
“Enough.” Aida’s brusque command has her daughter rearing back. Interesting enough, Octavia becomes sullen, her features tight with repressed ire. My mother brings her gaze back to me and says, “El Jefe is not here at the moment, but he sends you his regards.”
I cock my head. “You represent him during his absence?”
“Not exactly,” she says slowly. “However, I can promise you he’d be glad you’re here.”
Out of my peripheral vision I watch Octavia’s reaction. If anyone is being authentic in their communication, it’s her. She glares at Aida and then fills the empty plate in front of her with a contemptuous expression pulling at her features.
Unsure what to make of that, I nod in response to Aida’s statement. “I was informed that my presence, which I now know is very welcomed,” I say, not bothering to cover my displeasure, “will beextended.”
Both Violetta and Benito turn to look at me, but I don’t meet their perplexed gazes because I’m preoccupied with watching how my mother reacts. Her skin pales just a bit, yet it’s hardly discernible given her calm demeanor.
She clears her throat. “This is true. We still have a number of things to discuss and, because time is a factor for everyone, I’ll be brief. However, I believe it would be best if we resume our conversation in the morning after we’ve all rested. Moreover, I promised you time to think over your decision and it hasn’t been very long.”
The rage simmering beneath the surface of my exterior rises in temperature, heating me all over. My hostile attitude, which never left, also rises to a dangerous level. This woman isn’t safe from me, whether or not she’s my mother.
I rise to my feet with five sets of eyes fastened to me. “I will be leaving sometime within the next forty-eight hours, regardless of your stipulations or expectations. That is non-negotiable.”
Aida’s mouth thins, yet she wisely stays quiet and dips her head in agreement. I can’t say if she’ll honor my directive, due to her proclivity for lying. But it doesn’t matter.
I’ll be leaving or people will be killed. It’s that simple.
Octavia raises the flask in a show of solidarity I find interesting. She’s a possible ally and if all else fails, I can enlist her help instead of calling for my brothers’ aid. I don’t want them near our mother with the way things are currently. She’ll only bring them suffering and I won’t allow it.
Better for me to endure it all, then to share that burden with them.
Violetta
“My companions and I would like to be shown to our quarters immediately,” Tristano says, his voice ringing through the room like a gong that’s been struck. It has a deep quality, an underlying tone threaded with steely authority that seeps directly into your skin.
Or maybe I’m the only one who’s affected in such a way.
I’ve been around men with power and wealth, but none have ever commanded a room like Tristano does. There’s something about the energy that flows from him; it’s like the air is charged with electricity, making your skin prickle with awareness.
However, my opinion is skewed because I’m attracted to him.
He’s the first man to catch my attention in such a way, and that was before he ever touched me. My cheeks blaze with heat at the memory of what happened between us on the way here. I haven’t allowed myself to process that, although it needs to be done so I can regulate my actions going forward. This is why I’m grateful he’s requested we be shown to our rooms for the night since it’ll give me the quiet, alone time I desperately need.
Beni gets to his feet and immediately turns to assist me. I take his hand, noting the physical connection does nothing to me. There’s no racing of my pulse or tremors skating along my body until they reach my core. There isn’t a dampening between my thighs or a hardening of my nipples, no feeling that my breasts are heavy.
And there isn’t the desire to touch him, to explore every divot and curve of muscle.
I give Beni a smile of gratitude that barely constitutes one, but he doesn’t seem to care or notice. Instead, he returns the gesture, his full and warm. I’m not sure what it’s like to have a brother and I’ll never truly know, yet I imagine he’d be like Beni. I’ve never seen him look at me with anything dark or sinister, only with respect and amusement. He’s always maintaining a polite distance and is there to help me with the simplest tasks. In short, it blows my mind that someone could have a platonic relationship with me.
And it makes me feel safe.
The moment I’m standing I catch Tristano’s gaze over Beni’s shoulder. And it’s shimmering with anger. Like a pair of diamonds catching the light of the chandelier above, Tristano’s eyes glitter with such intensity that I have to look away, unable to handle the brilliance of them. I know he’s beyond upset at the circumstances, because who wouldn’t be considering what’s transpired?
