“¿Te está esperando? Is he expecting you?”
“Oh, Estoy seguro de que lo es.I’m certain he is,” I say, trying not to hiss the words, thinking of that smug bastard in his expensive suit manipulating Elana into this mess. This conversation with his jittery fent-head is infuriating. I’m sure he’s watching this exchange from his mansion.
The guard taps the gun’s trigger again a couple of times, watching one of the other men on the phone. When he nods, the guard opens the gate.
“Ma’am, are you sure this is how you want to handle this?” Monroe’s expressionless, the hard lines of his face set and focused. But I know he feels the gates closing behind us, feeling like something much more.
“Having a security entourage is something Alonso will understand,” I say, looking out the window. “We already know we can’t get Elana out by force. So, we will be smart. We will pay attention and look for weaknesses. He wants something from us, so he’s not going to hurt her, or us until he gets it.”
I hope I’m right.
“Welcome, welcome!”
That pretentious son of a bitch is greeting me in his giant, echoey marble entryway, arms spread wide like I’m a long-lost relative. Juan’s wearing an expensive beige suit and very much looking Lord of the Manor.
“Where’s my sister?” After eleven hours in the air, I’m not in the mood for his false hospitality.
“You wound me.” He has the audacity to put his hand to his chest as if there’s a functioning organ beating there. “Such hostility from my new sister.”
Two terrified-looking maids are wrinkling their aprons with nervous hands, along with at least fifteen of Alonso’s men, heavily armed, lining the hallway.
Drawing in a deep breath and letting it out slowly, I force a smile. “Perhaps we can speak in private, Mr. Alonso?”
He chuckles happily. “You must call me Juan. Your men may stay out here.” He waves a regal hand over the tense men, his and mine watching each other warily. “Relax!” he instructsthem, “Carmela and Manuela will bring you food and drink. We are not enemies, here in this house.”
Monroe steps close enough behind me that his toes hit the heel of my shoes. “I go where Mrs. MacTavish goes.”
A flash of something malicious goes through Juan’s dark eyes. “In my home, you go where I tell you.”
“Monroe is protective,” I break in, “I’m sure you can understand. He’ll stand outside the door.” I can tell my bodyguard isn’t happy with this plan, but tensions are already high, no matter how cheerful Juan looks. “May I see my sister?”
With an elegant shrug, he leads the way, opening two tall doors with a flourish.
“Aria! What are you doing here?”
Elana leaps up from a chair, the book on her lap falling to the floor.
“I came for you,” I whisper, hugging her. “Sweetie, are you all right? He hasn’t hurt you?”
“No!” She tucks a piece of hair behind her ear, looking flustered. She’s a darker blonde than me, with my mother’s blue eyes and right now, she seems so innocent that it’s almost physically painful to look at her. “Juan’s been a… gentleman.”
“You see? Nothing to worry about!” Juan says happily, offering me a glass of wine.
“Forgive me, I’m still suffering from a little flight sickness,” I lie. I’m not taking a thing from this man. He’s smiling, but his eyes are flat and blank, like a rattlesnake’s. “Let’s be honest with each other. You want something from our family. As beautiful and special as Elana is, I don’t believe you lured her here to marry her.”
“What? Aria, I’m here to- to meet my responsibilities. This fulfills the contract.” Elana’s eyes are wide and a little hurt.
“Honey, you have been so brave, and I know you want to make things right.” I try to take her hand and she pulls it away. “There’s more to this than the marriage contract.”
Juan’s leaning against his desk, arms folded and grinning as if this is deeply entertaining.
“You just can’t stand that there’s someone who wants me instead of you, don’t you?” she snaps.
“What? No!” She backs away from me, closer to Juan, who makes no effort to touch her. “This isn’t about that- that’s not even a thing, Els. There’s more going on here.”
I’ve never seen this coldness from her before, she looks so bitter. “Sure, Aria. You just had to come racing down here to, what? Rescue me? Maybe I don’t need rescuing!” She turns to Juan, “I want to go up to my room, please.”
He nods graciously, and she storms out of the room, I see a glimpse of Monroe’s concerned face before she slams the doors shut.
