As he struggles to stand me up, Mateo is striding over to him, pushing him away from me. He snarls at the man, and he smirks at my brother, knowing very well what he is doing to aggravate and get a rise out of him. Mateo stands straight, demanding respect.
I look over at Emma, who is watching along with Mr. Martinez, who is watching the exchange with amusement.
“My sisters are going to be promised to some very wealthy men. I won’t have you tampering with them. We need them, so if I so much as see you look at them in the lustful manner in which you did before, I will cut your eyes out, am I clear?”
The guard looks over at Mr. Martinez.
Mateo slaps his face, getting his attention back to him. “Do not look to my father to save you. I am his son and heir. Youwill listen and respect me, or I will beat it out of you until you understand. You work for me. You got me?”
He must understand whatever he was looking for in his employer because he changes his tune quickly. “Of course, boss. I understand now.”
Mateo nods, and we walk to the house. Still zip-tied, Emma and I walk in front of our brother as Mr. Martinez and Ramón enter the house.
We walk through the opulent and gaudy interior of the home, and I hate to say that it screamsI want to be important. It is so flashy that my eyes cannot look at one thing. The mismatched designs and bright colors are in opposition with themselves, and I become dizzy trying to make sense of what is going on here. It is the exact opposite of class. The design is… I’m-trying-too-hard with a splash of desperation sprinkled into the home’s interior design.
My boots echo on the open foyer as we stop, taking a look at our temporary home. A woman comes through shortly after and greets Mr. Martinez, welcoming him home. She is young and very pretty and I suspect she is there for things other than being the estate’s stewardess. I wonder how Mrs. Martinez feels about that.
“Adalia, this is my long-lost son, Mateo. I have finally brought him home.”
Mateo nods at Adalia, and she blushes. Of course, she does.
“It’s so nice to make your acquaintance, Mateo.”
I roll my eyes, and Emma just watches the exchange.
He nods. “Adalia, these are my sisters. I trust that you will keep an eye on them and give them whatever they need to make their short stay here as pleasant as possible.”
Adalia spares a glance with a small smile before returning her full attention to my brother. “Of course, sir. I can absolutely do that for you. I can do anything that you need me to.”
Ramón coughs. Mr. Martinez looks at her sternly, and I am sure she will be punished for that comment later. I don’t wish that on my worst enemy, especially if he is anything like his son.
Emma gulps loudly, and I can only imagine the memories that are brought up now, being in this house once again.
“I’ll show them to their rooms, sir,” Adalia says.
Emma and I start to walk off, but Ramón calls out for us to stop. He walks over with a pocket knife in his extended hand. Mateo immediately takes the knife from him and comes over to us.
“Here,” he says, pointing at the zip-ties.
I wordlessly extend my arms out to him, and he cuts through my ties and then does the same thing to Emma. Immediately, we attempt to ease the tingling in our wrists from being in that fixed position for the last ten hours.
Mateo’s eyes hone in on the redness that encircles our wrists, but he doesn't comment. The tic of his jaw is the only sign that he is upset at the pain he was partially responsible for, but we all have our parts to play. His parting words echo in my mind, easing some of the feelings brewing.
We follow Adalia as Mr. Martinez says, “Come on, son. Follow me. I have much to talk to you about.”
I hear their footsteps leave us as we hit the home’s second level and walk to our gilded cage.
We are in a bedroom that is connected to a bathroom—a Jack-and-Jill style.
“Here you go, ladies,” Adalia says as she shows us to our room. “Your suitcases are here, and I believe they have already been checked, so if your things seem to be rummaged through, then you would be correct. Can’t be too safe these days.”
I want to say safe from who, but I can’t find it in me to talk to this poor, brainwashed creature.
“I suggest getting a good night’s sleep because breakfast is early.” She heads toward the door, but I stop her.
“We are eating breakfast with our brother?”
She turns back to address me, her hands intertwined in front of her. “Oh no, you will be served breakfast and lunch in your rooms.”
