Page 80 of Secrets of the Six

Swiveling in the direction of the voice, I spot Señor Montenegro, surrounded by a gaggle of men, including Remus and Don Severo. The rotund lord is rocking back and forth on his heels, a holier-than-thou expression smeared across his sunspot riddled face.

"Who is that?" I ask Rogelio, hoping to manipulate him into escorting me closer.

Rogelio groans and rolls his eyes once he sees Montenegro and whispers, "That is Señor Pablo Montenegro. He's one of the many spice traders in Orlencia but if you ask me, he's a pompous ass who enjoys the sound of his own voice."

I snicker, nearly spitting wine out of my mouth.

"Apologies," he says quickly, blushing. "Sometimes I say things out loud when they should remain in my head."

"Don't apologize. I find your candor refreshing." I smile, reassuring him. "Would you care to introduce us?"

"You want to meet Señor Montenegro?" He quirks a curious brow, attempting to read into my motivation.

"My Tia informed me he utilizes Otero ships to move his merchandise and if I'm not mistaken, he purchases Lozano olives. I'd like to meet one of our vendors since I'm going to be taking over the family business one day."

My explanation seems to check out in Rogelio's mind and without hesitation he offers me his arm and leads me toward the man I intend to kill.

As we approach, I overhear my enemy recounting his harrowing tale of surviving the Brogratto Burglar attempting to steal his valuables. Two things about his story intrigue me. The fact after several months he's still thinking of me is flattering because I think of him often too. But my thoughts include what a slash across his neck would look like. And second, it's laughable he believes his shitty trinkets are worth more than a few coppers in the Market District. I thought him living in the Golden District meant wealth beyond measure, but all it really means is he spends his earnings on booze, gambling, and women instead of properly furnishing his home. It finally clicks in my head why he isn't hosting any events this season.

"I'm just glad that filth is off the streets," Montenegro's voice slices through my thoughts as Rogelio and I close the gap. "In my opinion, we should blow up the bridges that connect Orlencia to the Brogratto and be done with them. Let them kill each other or rot, I say."

"Other than a burglary, have the poor from the Brogratto caused you any true harm?" I ask and ten pairs of eyes dart to settle on me and my handsome escort. I refuse to meet Remus' amused look, keeping my eyes on Montenegro.

He sputters and his cheeks redden in anger or embarrassment, I'm not entirely sure, nor do I care. "That question borders on impertinent," he squawks.

"On the contrary," I say sweetly, relishing the fact I'm already under his sensitive skin, "I believe my question is merely steeped in curiosity."

"Whether I was harmed or not does not matter." He says with self-righteous indignation. "A crime is a crime."

I nod. "I agree, Señor. Crime is crime." I take a long sip of my wine, enjoying the hold I already have over the group. "Perhaps if the less fortunate received better food, supplies, and housing – "

"Silly girls should not speak on matters they know nothing about!" He interrupts with a puffed-up chest and irritable disposition. He glares around the circle of aristocratic men and when no one immediately backs him up, I decide to launch my assault.

"And privileged old men should not speak on the misfortune of others when they are the root cause of their suffering."

The tension is so thick I could swim in it, but I stand my ground despite Montenegro's foot stomping in childlike fashion. Rogelio's grip on my arm tightens, but I don't avert my gaze from Montenegro's.

"How dare you!" he growls. "Who are you to speak to me in that manner?"

"Oh, permit me to introduce myself," I say with more sass than needed, pressing my palm to my chest. "I am Elena Lozano, the heir to the Lozano estate. I have more knowledge of economics, agriculture, and basic human decency in my pinky finger than you seem to possess in your entire wrinkled body."

Remus barks out a laugh and my eyes dart to him. I can't help the smug smile that plays on my lips. Rogelio tenses beside me and when I tear my eyes from Remus to look up at the Murrieta heir, I find a curiosity ripe in his face, one that demands answers to a million questions zooming through his mind. A frown line suddenly deepens when he tilts his head up and stares across the circle at Remus who isn't backing down from his jealous glare.

Montenegro grunts, entirely done with my shit. Remus' levity seems to be Montenegro's breaking point.

He squares his wide shoulders with Remus. "Do you find her disrespect amusing, Don Rafael?"

Without missing a beat, Remus takes a drag of his cig and shrugs. "I find Señorita Lozano humbling you amusing, Señor Montenegro."

There's certainly no love lost between these two men, but Montenegro is certainly not going to allow me, a woman, to embarrass him so easily amongst his peers. He eyes me head-to-toe with a snarl. "Impertinence certainly runs in the family then." He leans so close I can smell the liquor on his breath. "I blame the Otero blood in you."

Something inside of me snaps. I feel rage boiling in my feet and slowly creeping up my legs, splaying across my chest, and once it reaches my lips, I demand, "Apologize."

"What?"

"I said, apologize for your disregard for my blood."

He shakes his head, doubling down. "No. I don't think I will. House Otero were sympathizers of the black-winged devils. Treachery and disrespect are ground into your very bones," he hisses. "I will never apologize to your kind."