Patanza notices me looking and turns around to look at the door.
The tall, skinny man with white hair from the cells walks in and looks from me to her with a ticking jaw. “She done?”
“Yes.”
“Good. He wants to see her now.” The white-haired man looks me over in my new clothes. His eyes broil with lust. I snatch my gaze away, staring at the tips of my shoes.
“Okay. We’re coming,” Patanza states.
“No.” He holds a hand up and she stops in her tracks. “He asked me to bring her.”
She thins her eyes at him for a moment. Then she looks from him to me. Stepping back, she gestures towards the tall man and I press my lips together, trudging forward.
He steps back, allowing me to walk past, and I feel him looking right at my ass as I do.
I hear Patanza scoff but not much else. The man slams the door behind him and then steps around me, licking his lips.
“This way.” He walks down a darker hallway. There are lamps on, but it’s darker, not as bright as the corridor with the paintings.
His heavy boots squish on the marble floor and my sneakers squeak as I try to keep up. We walk for what feels like two whole minutes before we finally reach a staircase that goes down. He hustles down the steps and I take them one-by-one, my thumb rubbing over my wedding ring.
Two brown double doors appear at the end of the hallway when I make it down. The tall man meets up to it and knocks twice. I stay at least five steps away from him.
“Adelante!” The boss’s voice rises and the tall man opens the door right away. He flicks his fingers for me to follow.
My mouth feels dryer, but I follow him in. Slowly.
When the door is shut behind me, I look towards the boss. His hands are behind his back as he stands in front of a blank, white canvas. Above the canvas is another portrait hung on the wall. It’s way bigger than the rest I’ve seen. In fact, every portrait inside this room is.
The walls are a dark brown color. On the wall to my right, there is a two-seater sofa. To my left, a single black chair. The ceiling is tan and vaulted with spotlights hanging from them, shining on each creation.
A staircase is across from him. A tall table between us.
I look up, and see more paintings above, a bed with a headboard, and candles. A violin is on a stand up there, and my brows dip at the sight of it. For some reason that violin just doesn’t fit in here…and neither do I.
Mom used to play violin. She was really good at it, too. She tried to teach me but I never had the patience for it. I did love listening, though. I loved to be entertained. That’s probably the reason I’ve been caught in a jam such as this one.
Toni was my entertainment. He made me laugh, swoon, and cry. My eyes burn as I think of Toni. And then I focus on the boss with a scowl.
“Leave us,” the boss commands.
The tall man turns quickly and walks out, shutting the heavy doors behind him.
I rub my thumb across the ring again, the thick cut diamond. The boss picks up a small black container and walks to a sink behind the staircase that I didn’t previously notice.
He runs the water, filling the container, and then comes back. After placing it down, he rolls up the sleeves of his shirt. I just realized that he’s changed clothes. He’s now wearing a white button-down. It’s much more revealing. His arms are thick and definitely sculpted.
Raking a hand through his sleek hair, he finally turns to look at me. His firm gaze travels over the length of my body, and when he sees my outfit, he glowers.
“You have a full wardrobe of dresses, skirts, blouses…but you decide to wear jeans and a regular shirt. Strike one.”
“What the hell does that mean?” I ask boldly.
He places his hands behind his back again, pacing the area near the canvas slowly.
“You have questions. Lots of them,” he notes. “Well, let me start off by telling you my name. Most call me Jefe. My real name is Draco Molina. But I suppose you can call me…sir.” He flashes a wicked smile.
“How did you know I was a Nicotera?”
He looks up, a spark in his eye, his lips flat. “I just knew.” He faces the canvas again.
“You knew my father?”
He turns halfway, glancing over his shoulder. “I knew him well, yes.”
I debate on whether I should ask my next question. The truth is I’m afraid to know the answer. If I know, then I’ll definitely know my fate.
“Was…” I release a ragged sigh. “Was he an enemy of yours?”