I take the blade and slice a triangle, cutting a large portion for Marta. “Here... sit with me. Please, tell me what happened.”
She pivots on the thick sole of her flat shoes, slowly retracing her steps to the cupboard and collects a second plate. “That night, Tomás came to our home and took Pepe away.” The hairs on my neck lift. “He personally drove him to a private medical facility for treatment. Tomás took care of the bills. He paid for everything. Everything…” she repeats in a whisper.
Hitching her dress at the hips, Marta grumbles a little as she tries to sit comfortably on the stool. “Even Pepe’s funeral. The day after I buried my husband, Tomás told me he had an opening for a housekeeper, and asked if I’d like the position. He knew I’d never get a job because of this…” She nods to her frail hand. “Tomás welcomed me into his home and gave me independence.”
Every word retold unlocks more secrets to the mystery of a man I’ve come to know. It makes me think she’s right—we all have monsters inside of us, some more obvious than others. But that doesn’t mean every one of us is bad to the bone. Perhaps there’s some redeemable qualities in Tomás to work with.
Turning my attention to my plate, I stab the cake’s jammy middle and hum out my approval as I chew. “Did you make this?” I cover my mouth so she doesn’t see me eat. “It’s so good.”
“Tomás had me order it from the city. I picked it up earlier.” Marta pinches a piece of cake between her fingers and thumb, then pops it into her mouth. “It’s his mother’s favorite. He thought you’d enjoy it too.” Once she swallows, our gazes connect. “Be careful, sweet niña. Even an assassin will smile. People won’t like you having his attention.”
My spine stiffens. By the deadpan expression she wears, I can’t quite tell if she means herself or someone else. But when she reaches forward and gently rests her palm over the top of my hand, warming affection seeps from her skin to mine.
“Never underestimate the cartel. They’ll kill you, wrap your body in a sheet, and douse it in gasoline before you know what you've done wrong.”
The mass of crumbly cake making its way down my esophagus feels like an indigestible mistake. “He didn't give me a choice. I had to stay with him.” On a frustrated swallow, I drop the fork, feeling as though I need to defend my reasons for being here.
“I know.” She holds me in place with a sincere stare. “And whether you want to believe it or not, Tomás Souza has good in him. This is the only life he knows. Elias bullied those boys…” A breath escapes her in a gust and she automatically swivels to check we’re alone, afraid she’s said too much. “Look... you have the advantage. Tomás sees something in you like he did with that stray dog over there.” Her chocolatey eyes cut to Brutus, who sits by the French doors looking out, always on guard. “All I’m saying is, keep your wits about you and don’t do anything silly. Now…” She drops off the stool and carries her plate away. “I’m meeting with the cleaning staff. Make yourself at home. I’ll be around if you need anything.”
How about more information? “Okay,” I reply, feeling unsettled by our cryptic conversation. “Thanks for this.” I nod to the plate and smile sweetly.
What should have been a fact-finding mission led to something more revealing. What exactly is it that he sees in me? Other than a woman he can control for a short period of time. I’m not a doting puppy or a pet he can train.
When she’s left the kitchen, I eat a few forkfuls of cake and sit in silence, contemplating this lavish lifestyle. How Tomás has everything he could wish for, yet I get the distinct impression there’s something missing. Shadows chase his every step with a smoky aura.
Brutus flinches when he hears the stool creak and leaves his post when my feet hit the floor. Together, we walk into the sunny living room. There’s so much empty space without the enormous sofa he bled over last night. It feels oversized for just one man.
I head toward a bar area near the floor to ceiling glass doors, casually counting the collection of liquor bottles sitting on top of a mirrored cabinet. After thirty, with more labels to add to my tally, I get bored and select an unopened bottle. Alcohol doesn’t interest me. I’ve never tried the stuff before or had the desire to find out what it tastes like. Until now.
Unscrewing the cap from a fancy bottle of caramel colored tequila, I fill a small glass to the brim. After the count of three, I hold my breath, open my mouth, tip the glass, and down it in one gulp.
Holy shit,it burns. The fiery heat in my throat is not what I expected, nor is the buzz it gives me. A shudder rattles my skeleton while my belly does a reckless somersault. I clear my throat and cough a few times.
With a few hours at least to kill, I snatch the bottle by the neck and wander over to the sliding glass doors with Brutus by my side. Intense sun rays settle on my face when we exit the indoors and pad onto the paved patio. I curl my palm to shade my eyes, squinting until I find the cream parasol offering shelter.
In the distance a streak of passing gray clouds threatens to kidnap the sun for the afternoon, slashing the moderate temperature with its creeping arrival.
A hillside breeze carries a blossomy bouquet and towering palms sway like giants watching over their territory. Banana, lemon, and avocado trees fringe the immaculate lawn beyond the infinity pool. It’s serene and calm. A deceptive paradise nestled in the mountains where no one would suspect I'm held here under duress.
I recline on a padded lounger and check Brutus is comfortable in a shady spot. Taking a sip of tequila, I close my eyes and enjoy the smooth burn descending into my belly. Light footsteps from indoors don't bother my new friend. He’s used to the flurry of organized cleaners moving from room to room.
With nothing else to do, I survey the staff who carry out their duties beyond the reflective glass until I no longer care. I’m restless and pumped with so many emotions. I can’t help feeling alone, even though Brutus pricks his ears every time I move.
This idleness is alien to me. I’ve no books to read, Netflix shows to binge, or music to sing along to. It’s just me, the dog, and a bottle of booze.
The shadows shift position on the terrace, telling me it’s after midday. I should be hungry, but my stomach aches from the uncertainty of what will happen when I meet his family. I’m not his girlfriend, so undoubtedly, they'll treat me with little respect. What if his brothers are carbon copies of their father and I’m thrown to the wildlife after all?
I’m fed up waiting around like a naughty schoolgirl whose daddy confiscated her phone and irritated by the whole situation I’m in. I left Manaus for independence, to work, and to learn while I consider my future. Not stay locked up like a bird in a gilded cage.
Frustration escapes me in a grumpy growl. I climb off the lounger, unzip the new dress, and toss it behind me for when I’m done. Standing in only lingerie, I bring the tequila to my lips and take another glug. I could get used to the buzz it charges my veins with. It’s nowhere near the addiction I have to Tomás’ sexual control, but it’s exhilarating nonetheless.
Walking the length of the pool, I stop at the far end and stare at the breathtaking view. Tomás is out there somewhere, plotting a war, and planning countless deaths. In my mind, I replay memories of the men who kidnapped, terrorized, and shoved me under the cartels’ radar. For those men, I could easily cause havoc with a machine gun. Does that make me like them—hollow hearted and evil?
I chuckle at my alcohol induced bravado and then sigh. My mentor, el Fantasma, would be proud of my murderous fantasy even if he did warn me to stay away from guns.
Lowering to the water's edge, I sink my ankles into the heated pool and perch there like a bored ornament. There’s probably a string bikini or a skimpy bathing suit in one of the gift bags upstairs.
Except I’m not in the mood to wander indoors and indulge myself in clothes I’d never have the opportunity to wear. I’d rather hang out here in the fresh air where the limitless sky doesn’t close in on me like the bars of a gilded cage.