Ángel is waiting for me when I arrive, flanked by security. “Niall,” he says pleasantly. “My father is waiting in his office. If you’ll come this way?”
He leads me back to the huge room, where Ricardo Santiago is behind his desk. “Ah, Niall,” Ricardo greets me in that same pleasant tone as his son. “Did you have a chance to speak to the McGregor brothers?”
“Aye.” I sink into the chair, hands between my knees as I lean forward. “They’re open to the idea of sending men, but concerned about the situation. They don’t want to put our men in the line of fire, not when so much of the strife in our own families and allies is just now settling down. If it’s just some posturing to make Diego Gonzalez back down, then we’re open to it. If there’s a real and imminent risk of war—I’m not sure that they think opening up trade is fair compensation for the lives of the men who follow us.”
“Hmm.” Ricardo looks at me keenly, his eyes narrowed. “I appreciate the commitment your bosses have to the well-being of their men. It’s not something you often see, particularly out here. The desert is harsh, and so are the lives of a great many who work for and with the cartels. But I’ve often tried not to be, when I can. The result is that Diego Gonzalez thinks I’m weak. He’s made certain—demands of me recently. Demands that I cannot avoid without all-out war and risking my family. But I am willing to make the sacrifices necessary to satisfy him and prevent that war, if the Kings can offer me reinforcements and trade. The men and the funds that will come from that can help me reinforce my position and ensure that what I give Diego will not be in vain. Do you think we can come to an accord on that?”
“I’ll have to talk to Liam and Connor to be sure,” I tell him honestly. “But I think they’ll agree that’s a deal worth making. I’ll let you know for certain once I speak with them.”
Once back in my hotel, I give Liam a call. After going over the details of the meeting, they agree that the arrangement sounds like a good one on all sides. “Tell him that we’ll pull our reinforcements if things get messy,” Connor warns, and Liam agrees. “Trust has to be earned. We’re only sending a handful of men at first, along with the first shipment of guns, to be exchanged for the drugs to sell through Luca’s clubs.”
“I’ll let him know later this week when we meet,” I assure them. I hear Saoirse’s voice in the background, murmuring something I can’t quite make out, but I don’t feel the pang I half-expect at the sound of it. I don’t feel anything.
That realization lifts my spirits a bit and makes me look forward to going home again. The change of scenery has been pleasant, but I’m ready for the familiarity of Boston, the comfort of my favorite haunts, and my own apartment. I’m ready to inhabit my own life again, and that makes me feel better than I have in a long fucking time.
---
The week passes uneventfully. I meet once more with Ricardo, relaying Liam and Connor’s agreement and producing the paperwork they’ve sent over for him to sign, arranging a time and date for the exchange. He looks markedly relieved when the deal is done, as am I. My job is complete and successful, which means when I go back to Boston, my position will have changed. I’ll be one of the Kings, not just an enforcer working for Liam, and while it grinds my gears a decent bit that it’s Connor’s influence that changed all that, I’m not about to turn it down. After working for the Kings and for Liam all my life, I’ll have a voice in what the Kings do. A hand in decision making, not just the hand that metes it out. And I’ll have the money to go along with it, which is nothing to sniff at.
The only thing left to do is go about getting a suit for the gala, which is easy enough. Ricardo recommends a tailor for me, one Ángel enthusiastically agrees is the best to be had without going to Mexico City. I spend a good part of one day getting fitted, with the tailored product to be done the day before the gala.
At night, there’s no hope when it comes to not thinking about Gabriela. I go back to theSangretwice more, hoping that she’ll come anyway, before I give up. My hand is a poor substitute for her, but I wind up jerking off every night anyway, sometimes more than once, remembering the feeling of being inside her. I have a feeling that no other girl will measure up to her, not for a long time.
In time, the feelings will fade,I remind myself as I clean up, the last night before the gala.You know that as well as anyone else. It’s just infatuation, nothing more.
22
ISABELLA
The night of the party, all I want to do is scream.
I want to hide under the blankets like a child, bury my face in my pillows, and scream over and over until I feel some kind of fucking relief. It’s never hit home as hard as it is now; what’s going to happen to me?
Tonight, I’ll be engaged. Bound to someone else of my father’s choosing, all my choices swept away. In a matter of months, weeks even, depending on how demanding my fiancé is, I’ll be married. And then I’ll be taken away to start a new life in a new cage.
I could never leave her behind,I’d said to Niall about Elena. My little sister, my best friend.More than sisters,I’d said. But I’m going to have no choice. Everything I love will be taken away. It’s not as if I’ll never see her again—but it won’t be the same. Nothing will ever be the same ever again.
“Don’t look so sad,” Elena says plaintively as she pulls the ruby-colored gown out of my closet. The other red dress has been thrown away, surreptitiously snuck out and thrown in the bin. I won’t need it again, and I couldn’t risk someone finding it. The same for the black dress, all evidence of my trysts with Niall gone—everything except the topaz necklace secreted away in my jewelry box. The one reminder of him I’ll keep for the rest of my life—unless all of those nights give me something else.
I press my hand to my flat stomach as I shimmy out of my clothes, standing in nothing but my underwear as Elena tosses me a strapless bra. “Mamá will be up here soon with the jewelry,” she says, wrinkling her nose. “And the maid to help do your hair.”
Everything about this feels horrifying. I want to physically recoil from the dress, but I step into it instead as Elena holds it for me, reminding myself that at least I had a small win with this. It’s not what my mother wanted me to wear, and that’s one more small choice I got to make for myself.
Idolook beautiful in it, I have to admit. A few small alterations has it fitting me even better than it did at the shop, the strapless bodice clinging to me in a way that highlights my slender shoulders and sharp collarbones, the waist nipping in attractively, the tulle skirt frothing out around my hips. The pearls and tiny diamonds scattered across the tulle catch the light with every move I make. As Elena ties the rose-pink, gem-encrusted sash around my waist, I really do look like a princess—albeit one who might have been dipped in blood.
The Sangre de Ángel. Angel’s Blood.
A shiver goes through me at the memory of the bar, of Niall, of stone walls behind me as his lips claimed mine, of tequila and cigarette smoke, of everything I shouldn’t want. Everything I shouldn’t still crave.
At least I had it for a little while,I tell myself, trying to soothe the ache in my heart.It’s more than I ever thought I’d have before that.
I sit down at my vanity as my mother comes bustling into the room, carrying the carved box that holds some of her jewelry. There’s a maid with her, armed with hair styling products and a curling iron, and I ignore them both as I start to do my makeup. It reminds me of getting ready to go see Niall, albeit with a much softer look, and another stab of longing pierces my heart.
No point in wanting what you can’t ever have again.
“Wipe that sour look off your face, Isabella,” my mother chides. “Tonight is not the time for your attitude. Your father has worked hard to secure you a match that will benefit this family, and—”
Her voice wavers for one second, just enough for me to look sharply at her in the mirror and see that she looks nervous—and not just because she thinks that I might say or do something to ruin the night. It frightens me, the look on her face, and I set down my makeup brush to turn and look at her.