“Tasha . . .” Cristiano warned.
“Nobody even knows where Max is,” I said. “It’s better to strike quietly, when they least expect it, once we’re certain of his location.”
“That could take months. In fact, you may never know his exact location. And every day that passes, people talk.” Tasha dabbed the corners of her mouth with a napkin. “You look even weaker for the fact that the truth is coming out.”
Cristiano looked at his plate and didn’t deny it.
“Go on,” I invited.
“Calavera’s ruthless reputation has been enhanced by the mystery shrouding them. But with these attacks, and Cristiano’s refusal to arm certain cartels, it’s becoming popular gossip that Calavera is working for the wrong side.”
“Because he isn’t trafficking anyone—he’s helping them,” I said.
“Right,” Tasha said. “How do you think that makes him look? Like a traitor. And not just to Belmonte-Ruiz.”
I’d heard it twice from Tasha now. Even Alejandro had seemed to think it was possible. But Cristiano had yet to bring it up to me. “Is this true?” I asked him.
He looked up at me. “Give me a moment with my wife.”
Alejandro stood first, picking up his plate. “We’ll move to the kitchen.”
Pilar followed suit, but Tasha took her time pushing her half-eaten dinner away and rising from her seat. “Ignoring the problem won’t make it go away,” she said. “And it will get Max killed.”
I followed Tasha with my eyes until she’d made her way through the room and disappeared up the staircase.
“Tell me what’s going on,” I said.
Cristiano sat back in his seat and crossed his arms. I got the sense he hadn’t dismissed the others so we could talk candidly. “Don’t question me in front of others.”
“I didn’t.”
“Did I not make myself clear earlier?” he asked. “I told you the topic was closed during dinner.”
Ah. Well. If he didn’t want to discuss business, then I didn’t mind changing the subject at all. And since he kept insisting he was better, then there was no reason to keep letting him off the hook. I raised my chin. “Then tell me this. Why is Tasha still here? Who is she to you?”
7
Natalia
Cristiano ate his last bite of steak the way he had all the others—chewing fast and hard before washing it down with a gulp of wine. Injured or not, he held true to his claims that he ate as if someone might take his plate away before he was finished. “Chin-chin.” He raised his wineglass. “Brindis, a mi bella esposa.”
“Toasting ‘your beautiful wife’ won’t get you out of answering my question,” I said. “Why is Tasha still here? And what does it mean that people are learning the truth about your business?”
“Her family has an extensive network here and in Eastern Europe.” Sucking his teeth, he set down his glass. “She knows this world well and is good for information, so she’s been helping me find things on Belmonte-Ruiz. But ask me to send her away, and I will.”
“Send her away.”
He paused and tilted his head, clearly unprepared for that answer. “Why?”
How could he even ask? Did he not see the way she looked at him? At me? “She’s pressuring you to make rash decisions.”
“Nobody pressures me to do anything,” he said. “And I’m nothing if not thorough.”
“Remember, you were going to charge in guns blazing after Max was taken without even considering it could be a trap. I talked you down. You think you’re immune—that you can do no wrong and survive anything.”
“This again. I understand your point of view—I have heard it. I have heard Alejandro’s.” His silverware clattered to his plate. “I’ve made a decision, and you will stand behind it. Alejandro and his team will leave tomorrow.”
“Why? Because Tasha bruised your ego?”
He curled his hand into a fist on the table. “How do you think it looks to have you question me? Argue with me? I told you I didn’t want to discuss any of this at the dinner table, yet you and Tasha push me.”
“Then let’s instead discuss how you told her our marriage means nothing—that’s none of her business.”
“Haven’t you discussed our arrangement with Pilar?”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
“I was confiding in Pilar, not trying to sleep with her.”
“Ah.” He gripped the arms of his chair and crossed an ankle over one knee, looking amused. “Is that why you think I told Tasha you mean nothing to me?”
“Why else? You were out of town. It would’ve been the perfect excuse.” I shifted in my seat, discomfited over the idea of Cristiano at the political event with another woman on his arm. Especially statuesque, cunning Tasha, a guest in our home. “An arranged, celibate marriage means you wouldn’t technically be cheating.”
“You think Tasha cares if I cheat on my wife? If I wanted to fuck her, I would. Don’t I have every right to? My own wife won’t even sleep in my bed.”