"Did you choose that world, or did it choose you?" She takes another sip of champagne. "Because if you're just attracted to men who hurt people, my brother deserves better."
Gabriel tenses, but I catch his eye and shake my head slightly. This is my fight.
"I chose it," I say simply. "I liked the power, the danger, the way that world made me feel alive. And yes, I liked Julian's control until I didn't. But your brother isn't Julian."
She tilts her head. "What do you mean?"
"Julian took. Gabriel gives. Even his violence is an offering."
Gabriel's sister processes this, eyes narrowing. Then she pivots, the interrogation shifting angles. "Do you know what he did?"
"Yes."
"I mean really know. Not the sanitized version."
"I know exactly who he is," I say, holding her gaze.
Marisol's expression shifts, softening. She looks at Gabriel, then back at me. Nico is watching Gabriel watch me, some silent assessment completing behind those hazel eyes.
"Fine," Marisol says suddenly. "But if you're staying, I have expectations. Sunday dinners are mandatory. You'll teach me Rosa's recipes because Gabriel can't cook for shit. And when Nico’s family comes to visit, you can help me with the seating arrangements. These Rosettis multiply like rabbits and I needsomeone who understands family politics without getting their feelings hurt. And when we go shopping next week…"
"When we what?"
“We're going shopping Tuesday. I hate shopping alone and you clearly know how to dress when you're not covered in kitchen grease."
The interrogation has morphed into expectations, demands that assume my future presence. From Marisol, this is acceptance.
My grip on the counter loosens. The breath I've been holding escapes in a rush. Gabriel's hand brushes my lower back, brief and warm.
"Now," Marisol says, stealing another taste of sofrito with her finger, "when do we eat? I'm starving and it smells like heaven in here."
"The pernil needs another hour."
"Then we have time for a drink." Marisol grabs her champagne, hooks her arm through mine, and leads me to the dining room. "Come on. Let's go make sure Adrian hasn't rearranged all the chairs again. He has opinions about sight lines."
The others arrive as I'm pulling plates from the cabinet, their voices filling the space beyond the kitchen. Gunner appears first, claiming the chair that lets him see all the entrances. Logan follows exactly when he said he would, wine from his personal collection under his arm, already pouring for others before taking his own seat. He's changed from his work clothes, still pressed but less armored.
Adrian is everywhere at once, adjusting candles, filling water glasses, making the room warmer just by moving through it. When he finally sits, it's directly across from where Isa, who arrives and sits without ceremony. I try to catch her eye, to gaugeher temperature, but she’s either ignoring me or too caught up in the wine to notice me.
The Siren arrives last, wearing emerald that catches the light and matches her green wig, carrying rum she sets in front of Gunner with a wink. She finds me within seconds and squeezes my hand. She settles beside Marisol, which immediately feels like trouble waiting to happen.
Nico positions himself beside his wife, and I watch him subtly move her champagne glass six inches to the left. She moves it back without looking at him. He waits thirty seconds, moves it again. This appears to be their entire relationship.
Adrian watches the Marisol-Sera détente with visible delight. When the general chatter creates an opening, he pounces.
"So there's this health inspector," Adrian begins with perfect timing. "On a Tuesday morning, right? Shows up with his little clipboard, his official badge, his entire existence revolving around finding violations."
Marisol grins, already seeing where this is going. "The one with the mustache?"
"The very same. Walks in like he owns the place, starts his inspection. Meanwhile, Nico," Adrian gestures dramatically, "decides this man is clearly a threat. Possible hostile operative. Could have weapons."
"He was acting suspiciously," Nico interjects, completely serious.
"He was checking the refrigerator temperature! But Nico starts doing that thing, you know, the thing where he stands perfectly still and tracks someone with just his eyes? Like a predator? The poor inspector tries to check the freezer and there's Nico, staring. He moves to the prep station, Nico, staring. By the time he gets to the storage room, his hands are shaking so bad he drops his clipboard twice."
"Three times," Gunner corrects quietly.
"Three times! The man literally forgot how to count to ten. Lost his place on the checklist three separate times because Nico is just standing there like," Adrian demonstrates, going completely still, eyes flat and unblinking.
