There’s a flicker of apprehension in her eyes, but she doesn’t retort. That’s good. Best to handle this in private.
“I called you to help me, and you knew all along?”
“I tried to tell you. Remember my mention of your friend, Diaz, at dinner?”
“He’s not my friend.”
“You weren’t interested in hearing.”
“Wait, he told you about my father? He knew?” Her face goes white. She’s just understood what this means.
I shift my grip so I have both of her wrists in one hand and turn to one of my men. “I had a message that the house was secured earlier. How many are staying the night?”
“Yes, sir,” the man says. “House is secure, has been all day, and we have four men on property.”
“Good. Let’s get the old man moved tomorrow. I’ll make arrangements and send the location in the morning.”
“What?” Emilia is asking.
I turn to her. “Nan, is it?” I ask, gesturing to the old woman. “Nan, I’m Giovanni Santa Maria. My men will be on site tonight. I don’t expect trouble, but if there is, they’ll keep you and Mr. Estrella safe. I’m taking Emilia with me.”
“Wait, no. I’m not going anywhere.”
“If you need to contact her, ask one of my men,” I say, ignoring Emilia’s tugging.
The old woman looks at Emilia then at me and says something in Spanish.
Before Emilia can answer, I do, in Spanish. The language is close to Italian and one I studied growing up. I tell her to do as she’s told and that everything and everyone will be fine if she does. I also add in that I’m not going to let anything happen to Emilia. At this, she gives me a nod, comes down the stairs toward Emilia, wraps her arms around her, and whispers for her not to fight me. She then turns and goes back up the stairs.
“What are you doing?” Emilia asks.
“I’m helping you like you asked me to.” I begin to walk us toward the door, but she’s resisting.
“But this isn’t what I asked for.”
“The moment you asked for my help, you gave up control of the situation to me. I make the terms, you simply accept them. That’s how it works.”
“No, that’s not—”
“Let’s go.”
“Where are we going?”
“To bed. I’m tired.”
“I don’t want to leave them.”
I turn to her, take her by the shoulders. “They’re safe, Emilia. I promise to keep them safe.”
“Wait, what did you mean about Diaz? What did he know about my father?”
“He was one of the men hired to assassinate him originally. I guess your brother figured out your father was still alive and considered the job not yet done, so Diaz was coming after him. He had the address in his pocket. That’s how I found the house. I’ve had it under surveillance all day, expecting Alessandro. Hoping he’d turn up. Imagine my surprise when I got you instead.”
“My brother.”
I lean down close to her. “You do as you’re told, and I promise I will not let him hurt you or them, understand?”
“But what about you? You hate my father. You hate the cartel.”
“I guess you’re going to have to trust me. Now let’s go. We’ve still got some matters to resolve between us.”
Her eyes search mine. She knows I’m talking about that slap. She doesn’t fight me when I take her out to the car. She’s lost in her thoughts, and I’m busy confirming arrangements, so we don’t talk on the drive home. We get to the house and enter through the kitchen. I put my phone away.
“Go upstairs to my room and wait for me there. You remember which one it is?”
“Can we just get this over with?”
“Get what over with?”
“You know what.”
I raise my eyebrows. Her back is to the counter.
“Do you want to slap me back or something?”
I take a step to her, and she scoots around me. I smile, stalk toward her.
“Don’t test me. Do as you’re told.”
She stands defiant. “Just do it. If that’s what you’re going to do.”
I study her. She’s got her arms folded across her chest, and her head is tilted to the side. Her chin is set in a stubborn and, quite frankly, stupid, challenge.
Whatever she sees in my eyes, though, makes her falter. When I take one more step, she takes another one back.
“I don’t slap women, Emilia, but I do have a special punishment in mind for you. Now go upstairs, and wait for me there. Make sure you’re naked. It’ll save us time.”
She swallows, and I see her cheeks flush, but I also see her need to stand her ground.
To defy me.
“No.”
“Emilia.” I take one final step and when she matches it, her back hits the wall so she has to crane her neck to look up at me. Her face is flushed, and the rapid rise and fall of her chest belies her anxiety. I reach out, push a stray hair back from her face, and touch her cheek with the back of my hand. I’m gentle, and she’s soft. So fucking soft. My gaze holds hers as I run my hand down over her jaw, her delicate, vulnerable throat, lightly touching her collarbone before sliding it to the back of her neck, cupping the back of her head.