No, sorry ma’am.
A guard was sitting next to him in the passenger seat. I swear I could see a cell phone clipped to his black belt, but I got the same answer from him.
No, sorry ma’am.
At least they were polite about it.
That’s hardly a consolation. I’m lonely and I miss my friend... I’m also desperate for a distraction from my thoughts about Angel... I already miss him, too.
Snap out of it, girl!
We hit a pothole and I’m tossed up in my seat. Ah, we must be getting close. I swear, some of the potholes in this crumbling part of the country are older than I am.
When I look out from behind the tinted limo glass, I see a familiar landscape. A wave of nostalgia rips against my inner shores and a disjointed laugh escapes my lips.
Nostalgia. How ridiculous is that? I’ve barely been gone for the extent of a decent vacation...
But it’s felt like a lifetime.
Have I changed? Can someone change in such a short period of time?
Suddenly, I’m all too aware of how I look.
Here I am, the lost girl who hasn’t even bothered to call home since she left to catch a golden goose, coming back in a sleek black limo, with two luggage cases filled with new outfits and a shiny engagement ring on her finger that probably costs more than the GDP of the entire town.
And that’s not even mentioning the paparazzi photos of me and Angel at our fancy dinner the other night. I’m sure they’re up somewhere on the internet, or, god forbid, in one of the magazines at the local grocery store. How quickly do those things come out?
What will people think of me?
A tight knot forms in my gut and I start to squirm in my seat, suddenly wishing that Angel would take over my busy mind again and distract me from this guilt.
None of this is your fault, Catalina!
I know, but I’m not going to be able to tell anyone the whole story, not if I want to uphold my end of the deal. $20 million is on the line... think of all the good I could do with that cash.
I look down at my twinkling engagement ring.
Isn’t this what you wanted?
Obviously not.
I twist it off and shove it into the front pocket of my tight blue jeans.
I wanted some semblance of control, of my own power. I didn’t just want to help myself, but I wanted to help myself into a position where I could help others.
Right now, I’m completely at someone else’s mercy, someone who seems so distracted by other brutish affairs that he’s sent me away without a solid idea on when he’ll want me back.
I’m just a tool, and not one with any power. If Angel was a politician, then maybe I could be a fighter for justice or equality; if he was a legitimate businessman, then maybe I could run the board of some charity. Instead, I’m stuck to a dark and vicious figure, shrouded in a black haze of mystery that I can’t explain to anyone; that I can’t quite use for anything.
$20 million could do a lot of good... but I don’t have it on me right now.
Instead, all I have is the flash of wealth, the secrecy of it, without any of the benefits in can provide to those I care about. I won’t even be able to contribute to the household. Marcela’s probably been hard at work all week while I’ve been seemingly galivanting around with the country’s hottest young billionaire, and what do I have to show for it?
Fancy façades and gilded secrets... not to mention a clear crush on a man who deserves no such thing from me.
Angel didn’t give me a clear answer when I’d asked him how long I was allowed to visit for. Physically, I know he wants me; it’s clear as day. The wild tiger licks his chops at the sight of my exposed skin; that green glint in his eyes lingers on my lips far too often not to notice; his pants grow mysteriously tight when I’m in precarious positions.
But emotionally? Psychologically? Could he give two shits about my well-being?