Carmen stops a few feet away from me, expression composed in a way that feels practiced. The diamond ring on her finger catches the neon as she lifts her hand to smooth a strand of hair behind her ear. It’s big. Old. The kind of ring that looks less like jewelry and more like a family decision.
Engaged.
Not married.
The thought slides through my mind sharp and unwelcome.
I shouldn’t care.
The truth is I do.
“Darling Rivera,” Carmen says smoothly, her voice carrying easily over the music like she’s used to being heard.
“Carmen,” I reply.
I don’t add anything respectful to it. No ma’am. No polite softening. Not like when her father ruled the club, and I dated his enforcer. When I thought I could survive if I bowed to her. Her gaze flickers briefly at the lack of deference, like she’s clocking it and filing it away.
Her eyes drop to my collarbone where the fading bruise still stains my skin a sickly shade of yellow and purple. The same bruise Diablo saw. Her gaze lingers there longer than necessary, like she’s studying evidence.
Then she steps closer.
Her perfume hits me first. Something expensive and sharp, citrus on top with something dark underneath. It makes my stomach tighten.
“Little Havana’s charity case. You should leave while you can,” she murmurs quietly enough that only I hear her.
“Why?” I ask.
Her lips curve slightly.
“Miami’s not kind to girls who forget their place.”
The words are sweet. The meaning underneath them isn’t.
I hold her gaze. “What’s my place?”
Her smile widens just a fraction.
“Not in my home.”
I can feel the room watching even if everyone pretends to be busy drinking and laughing. Bikers don’t miss drama. They live for it. They just act like they don’t.
Carmen leans closer until her mouth hovers near my ear.
“He’s engaged,” she whispers softly. “Not confused.”
The words slice through my chest like glass.
I force my spine straighter. “He told you that?”
She pulls back slightly, studying my face like she’s cataloging my reaction.
“He doesn’t need to,” she says. “His ring says it for him.”
My gaze drops to the diamond again. It flashes under neon like it knows it’s winning.
Before I can find the right response, a bright voice cuts through the noise behind me.
“Darling. Damn, it’s really you.”
