“I haven’t,” I said, meeting his eyes, waiting for understanding to dawn. “You have my word—the marriage hasn’t been . . . made official.”
Costa’s neck corded, another swell of rage overtaking him. He looked over his shoulder at Natalia. My mind flashed back to days earlier, when he’d found out she’d spent the night with Diego and thrown her to the ground. It would be the last time in my presence.
He paced toward her, seething. “Diego? He did this?”
I flicked my cigarette out the window and got to my feet, ready to intervene if necessary.
“We did this,” she answered solemnly, her posture stiff. “I was there too.”
“Is this a joke to you?” He blew by her and slammed his fists on the surface of his desk. “How could you let him?”
She flattened her palm to her breast as her chest stuttered, her confidence clearly shaken. “Because I loved him,” she said, her voice breaking.
“Only because he manipulated you,” I said.
“And what about you?” she accused, whirling to me. “You have gotten everything you wanted while taking my chance at a happy life.”
With a deeply buried pang of guilt, my control slipped. “Then go.”
Surprise momentarily flashed across her face, followed by resignation. She wanted to keep making me the bad guy. To make me into my father. I wasn’t him, and I wouldn’t let her reverse all the work I’d done to make sure of that.
“I warned you about this,” Costa snapped at her.
Her chin wobbled. “I thought I loved him—maybe I still do. I don’t know, Papá. He hurt me.”
“Qué chingado, that motherfucking bastard.” Costa swept his hands over the desk so everything in his path went flying. “I told you if he broke your heart, I’d kill him, and I don’t make idle threats.”
“I’m as responsible as he is.” Natalia swiped a tear away, taking a breath. “It was my choice to make—you couldn’t have stopped it.”
Costa ignored her, turning to me. “I will ask you this once. By marrying her, do you have my daughter’s best interests at heart?”
“Yes.” I took a few steps so I could look him in the eye. “And no.”
He frowned. “Excuse me?”
“I’ve always sworn to protect your family. If I hadn’t been in the wrong place at the wrong time during Bianca’s murder, I would’ve been here by your side every day the past eleven years.” I paused. “I’ll make it up to you now and deliver on my promise to Bianca that I’d protect her daughter—even against Diego.”
Costa shook his head. “Bianca had her concerns about him. Though she accepted Diego into our family, she suspected he was hiding something, or that he resented us, and I knew the feeling—I had that same instinct. But his words and actions were always loyal, for so many years, and he never gave me reason to turn him out.”
“He’s clever that way. And he has something I don’t—great patience,” I said. “But that may be the only thing. I’ve got him beat in most other ways and now that your family is mine, your enemies are mine. Do I think Natalia deserves this life? No. But I do think she’s made for it.”
She flinched almost imperceptibly. It was a lot to take in; she needed time to process.
Costa’s rage ebbed, but I knew it sat close to the surface. “I want Natalia to be with someone who loves her, treats her well, and protects her.”
“Did Bianca have the same concerns about me that she did Diego?” I asked, because I had complete confidence how he’d answer.
“You know she didn’t,” Costa said. “She trusted you and thought you capable of great things.”
With the word great, Natalia looked crestfallen. “You said you didn’t want me with a good man, but a great one,” she whispered.
Costa turned his head over his shoulder to her. “I did, yes.”
“Then Bianca would support our union, as should you,” I said, reluctantly peeling my eyes from her. “As long as Natalia’s under my roof, you have my word I’ll do my best to see her loved, treated well, and protected, as you’ve asked of me.”
“Then under your roof she will be. But if I hear a whisper of harm against her, you will have a father’s rage to deal with, and I don’t think I have to tell you what that means.”
“Understood.”
I could practically hear Natalia’s teeth grinding from where she stood, any despair vanishing. “You talk about me—my virginity, my mother, my past and future—as if I’m not in the room.” She whipped her eyes to me. “Both of you.”
She had been knocked down in this fight, but she struggled to get back up. Now that Costa had acknowledged her as my wife, I knew he’d take my lead. I nodded for her to continue, silently encouraging her.
“I have been traded between families, and brothers, even by my own father.” She paused for a few deep breaths, struggling not to cry as she addressed us both. Her forearms tautened as she made fists and pressed on. “You can’t tell me who to love, and you don’t get to shame me for sleeping with Diego when it was my choice. It was my mistake to make.”