She nods her head in agreement but still doesn’t speak.
“Anyway, I’m not really scared today. I’m just…tired.”
‘Tired because I was up all night imagining Frankie’s body on mine.’
Pita’s face scrunches and for a second I think I’ve said that last part out loud but then she laughs.
“You are too young to be this tired, Liana.” She stands, smooths her apron, then leans down to brush a strand of hair behind my ear. It’s nice the way she treats me. Almost motherly. Something I can barely remember since my parents died when I was so young. “You have more power than you think, mija.”
She doesn’t elaborate on what she means but I understand her and I want to believe her. I want to believe that I’m not just a pawn. I was born into this life. They may be cartel, but their ways aren’t much different. Powerful families always marry to secure alliances and the women are the ones who get the short end of the stick.
After breakfast, I escape to the garden with a book, per usual. Unfortunately my brain still won’t turn off last night. I replay what happened over and over until I can practically close my eyes and feel it all over again. The taste of him and the feel of his hands. The way my own body shocked me with howmuch I wanted him. I try to read but for once in my life, I just can’t. I end up sprawled on the grass, staring at the empty sky, listening for his footsteps. Or maybe more like wishing for them.
I’m not sure how much time passes but I know it’s been a while when the sun starts to creep overhead and sweat beads at the small of my back. At some point I start to think I can hear voices. They sound angry so I push up onto my elbows, squinting like I can actually see people from inside my garden haven. The voices get louder and curiosity gets the best of me. I creep out between some bushes in search of the culprits when I see two men, more guards probably, at the edge of the pool. They are arguing in rapid-fire Spanish, too fast for me to catch more than a word here and there. Frankie is with them, but his back is to me. My whole body seems to catch fire as I watch the muscles in his arms bulge while he speaks to both men.
I crawl closer, hiding behind the hedge that borders the pool deck and attempt to listen. There are a few phrases I’m able to make sense of.
“…doesn’t matter what he says, they can’t get to her,” the taller man spits out with a coldness in his voice. He resembles Frankie but from where I hide, I can see his eyes are black as night. He’s handsome but not like Frankie. No, he looks demonic, like you could burn in front of him and he might laugh in your face. It’s unnerving.
Frankie shrugs like he doesn’t give a damn about whatever it is they are talking about.
“Let him try.”
The other man is a bit shorter, but still tall and just as built, leans in with a low voice. He has green eyes too and they sparkle as he speaks.
“How long will this go on? Don’t you think you’re taking this too far?”
Frankie’s hand curls into a fist making me wonder why that question would piss him off?
“Maybe you should worry about your own business, hermano,” he growls, making the taller man laugh.
They start walking off and their voices fade, making me wish I could follow and hear more. I didn’t catch much but the message is clear. They won’t let me go. Not without a fight. I sink back and flop onto the grass. Is this what it means to belong to someone from the cartel? It doesn’t seem much different from the mafia after all. They think I don’t understand. The problem is, I understand all too well. I want to scream and tear this place apart but I don’t even know where to begin. Maybe escape wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. I can’t see my family anyway. What difference would it make if I ran away and never looked back?
Dinner rolls around and the house is still quiet as ever. After I eat and shower again for the third time today, I realize I haven’t seen Frankie since the pool. I think about searching the forbidden hallway again but something tells me he won’t be there anyway. Instead, I go hunting around the rest of the house.
I find him in the gym, pounding a heavy punching bag. Every move he makes is brutal and precise. Sweat slicks his back, sliding down a large tattoo of a cross. There are vines and other items I can't quite make out. The tattoo shifts over every muscle as he moves, making heat shoot straight to my core. The flower on his neck looks alive as I watch it pulse in sync with my own rapid heartbeat.
‘Why is this man so good looking?’
I watch from the doorway, completely caught up in the smooth movements of his body. He’s more than good looking…he’s beautiful, even now, even when he’s trying to kill something with his bare hands. It’s intoxicating.
“You should not be here,” he says, breaking me from my trance. His voice is a rough warning but I step in anyway.
“Why not?”
“Do you need something?” he asks me, almost like he’s trying to change the subject.
“Maybe.”
‘I want you.’
He stops, bracing his hands on his knees and breathing hard. Then he stands up straight and looks directly at me. I don’t know how but I feel it almost as much as I see it. It’s that same desperate hunger from last night.
“What do you want, little Datura?” he asks.
It comes out a little harsher than I expect. I swallow, searching for the words. Suddenly I forgot why I'd even come searching for him. What did I want? What do I want from him? I want everything. I want to know what he’s thinking…feeling. I want to know if he’s as confused as I am. Instead, I go for the easy route.
“I saw you talking earlier to those men.”
