Just like when Pablo says “our,” and I know it includes me, I feel the same way when Enrique says it. It doesn’t leave me feeling lost in the middle since I’ve never fully felt like an Aguilar, and I definitely don’t feel like one now.
Pablo squeezes my hand, and I shift my attention to him.
“Flora, I found out on the plane that Ernesto was already on his way here. He landed a couple hours before us.”
“Myabuelo’salready here in New York?”
Panic makes my chest tighten. Maybe in a little while Pablo not telling me this as soon as he found out will piss me off. But right now, fear is the stronger emotion.
“Flora, I said nothing to you because I wanted more information. I wanted to explain things to you rather than leave you with more unanswered questions than there has to be.”
He means things I’ll ask that he’ll never tell me. The things I don’t want to know, and the things the U.S. or Colombian governments could ask me about. The less I know, the less I can say.
I remind myself Pablo has my best interests at heart. He’s not manipulating me like my family has. I might not agree with his idea of what’s best for me, but I trust that each of his decisions takes that into consideration.
“Do you know where he is?”
“Yes, he’s staying at the Waldorf Astoria.”
I huff and shake my head. “He certainly isn’t going for inconspicuous.”
I haven’t stayed there, but I’ve seen photos. They say the interior is lavish. I think it’s gaudy and ostentatious. In other words, perfect for myabuelo.
“He’s been there since he got into the city. He went directly to his room from JFK.”
“I’m certainAbuelo’sin a foul mood flying commercial, but he doesn’t have any richer friends right now to fly him where he wants to go. With Néstor dead, his connections to the government and their resources are gone. He’ll want to shower and change since he feels flying commercial is so pedestrian. Yet he does it anyway.”
I scan my gaze around the men with me and find them grinning. Clearly, they agree with my assessment.
“Florencia, we have men who work at the hotel and others staked out around it. I made sure our guys are also in the rooms next to his and across the hall.”
I don’t want to know how Enrique made that happen since I’m sure at least one of those three already had occupants. Probably some type of maintenance issue that made those guests move. I’m certain Enrique will know his comings and goings.
“He can’t come near you, Florencia, unless Pablo allows it.”
I like that even though Enrique leads the family, he’s deferring to Pablo on this. It reassures me, and I feel more confident than I did a minute ago. Pablo squeezes my hand, and I relax.
“Flora, if you decide you want to see Ernesto, I’ll make it happen. But if you don’t, then he won’t breathe within a ten-mile radius of you.”
I nod and squeeze his hand in return. I shift my focus back to Enrique as he speaks.
“Pablo and I have discussed your role several times. Both of us agree you don’t have to tell us anything you don’t want to. Neither of us will ask. Share what you want or keep it to yourself. I don’t want you to fear I’m going to demand information at any moment.”
I observe Enrique and wonder if this is the manipulation my mother warned me about. Is he trying to put me at ease so I lower my guard and confide in him? Maybe, but I don’t believe that about Pablo. He hasn’t asked me anything about the lab or the recipe I came up with. That sounds like such a benign term compared to formula. It’s as though I were baking a cake rather than baking cocaine.
Part of me wants to tell Enrique where the lab is and share the formula purely out of spite because I hated every momentof working for Humberto. I’d rather not think about it anymore, especially since the man is dead. I never have to see him again or work for him. However, part of me is saving that information for a rainy day. I want to say my faith is blind with Pablo, but all of this is still so new. I feel like the formula is my life vest that I can take out in case of emergency.
I nod and remain quiet. Luis finally speaks up, so I twist to look at him.
“Florencia, I know the things you’ve been told about our family, and not just from your own. We know the reputation we’ve cultivated. It’s been on purpose. Maybe you haven’t heard much about what we’re like together as a family, only what we do to other people as a family. You are the woman Pablo chose. He has an opportunity I didn’t.”
My brow furrows. I know little about Pablo’s family’s private lives except for what he shared in Switzerland. We talked about our pasts with our families, but we shared nothing overly private.
“My parents and my wife’s parents arranged my marriage to Margherita, but mymamáandpapáknew we’d be a perfect fit. I count my blessings our family’s in a position to let the younger generation choose who they want to be with. Pablo chose you. I know he’s meant to be with you because I trust my son’s decisions. That makes you family to all of us. Our loyalty is to you. We understand why you might not be ready to give us yours entirely. But no matter what, nothing I do will ever be to hurt my son intentionally, which is what would happen if we betrayed you. Whether you believe us because we’re making this promise for your sake, or it’s because you know we also make it for Pablo’s, we’re on your side no matter what.”
I’m not sure what to make of it when my possibly—maybe—probably future father-in-law pretty much says you’re his son’s soulmate.
We’ve been in New York for a week, and I’ve slept a large part of that. Apparently, the stress of the past few months slammed into me now that I feel completely safe, and I’ve become a narcoleptic. Pablo’s bed is comfier than any other I’ve ever slept in, but I suspect that’s because of him and not the mattress. I’m certainly spoiled getting to curl up next to him every night and waking up in his arms every morning. Hell, at least twice in the middle of every night. I know eventually the novelty will wear off, and we won’t wake each other to fuck. But for now, I certainly won’t complain.
