“If you want to behave like a child, I will treat you like one, Kira.” His voice feels cold and distant. I hurry to pull my thong and pants up and glare at him, tears still threatening in my eyes.
“Fuck you, Miguel.”
“You did once,” he comments. “It was good.”
I look away, and he snickers.
“Guards.”
They come back into the room at that point and come to stand near me.
“Take her back to her room. Make sure the maids bring her new bedding, so he’s comfortable.” He kneels next to me. “Better make your list of what you want, or you will be living in your own filth.”
He steps over me, almost on me, but I move at the last moment. His large stride takes him out of the room and out of sight.
One of the guards reaches for my arm, and I snarl, “I can get up myself.”
He backs off, surprised. I limp out of the room and toward the stairs. It takes me a while to get to the top, and then I slowly go to my room, slamming the door behind me.
Chapter 10 - Miguel
I sit in my office with my hand stinging from hitting her. I hit her. I’ve never hit a woman before that didn’t want it. I certainly never hit her when we were together. I stare at my hand, and I shake my head. I warned her. How many times had I warned her?
I light a cigar and move to sit in front of the open window that overlooks the garden, and I remember. I remember what it was like the first time I ever saw her.
Thirteen Years Earlier
University has been the best escape from my father. It’s the best idea—he wants me to have an education, and I want to be anywhere he isn’t. It’s a win-win situation.
Classes are interesting enough. There’s so much to learn, but even better are all the women on campus. I’ve certainly flirted with my fair share of them, but they’re all the same—cookie-cutter girls looking for an American boy to build an American life with.
I am in one of the top frat houses, but I suffered for it. My first year of university was hell on Earth. I was the greasy Italian kid until one frat boy took it too far, and some of my cousins paid him a visit.
Since then, I’ve quickly risen in popularity, and everyone knows I throw the best parties around town.
Today is no exception to the other happy days I’m enjoying. I sit in my Economics class, listening to the professor drone on and on. I’ve already taken down the notes for this class, it’s almost finished, and then I’m free for the remainder of the day.
The bell sounds, and the professor yells out reminders about upcoming tests over the noise. I pack away my laptop into my backpack and throw it over my shoulder. I run a hand through my hair and follow the throng of people out of the lecture hall.
Outside it’s a beautiful sunny day, and my friend Jeremy waits for me. He’s been nagging me to get in with my family even though I’ve warned him that it isn’t the kind of life people want. He insists, so maybe in summer, I’ll invite him over to the beach house and introduce him to my father.
Jeremy slaps a hand on my shoulder. “Interesting lecture?”
I shake my head. “Easy enough, didn’t really have to use the old brain to work out what the professor was talking about.”
“That’s cause you’re too smart for your own good, Miggie.” I hate that nickname, but everyone calls me Miggie on campus. My father would have a coronary if he heard it. Miggie doesn’t command respect. Miggie doesn’t instill a sense of importance.
“I named you Miguel after a strong man in our family for a reason!” That’s what my padre would say if he heard what people called me. I’d have to tell Jeremy not to use that name when we’re at the beach house, or my father will do worse things to him than not let him in the family. He’d probably do worse things to me too.
We step onto the grass outside the main building and walk toward the courtyard, where everyone has lunch. A few of the frat brothers are meeting us there, and from there, we’re going to decide what we’re doing for lunch.
The loud and obnoxious groups of Delta Kapa Delta’s can be heard from far away at the noise level they’re at. I smile as they all start smacking me on the back in their aggressive greeting. It’s how they show they care about you in a very manly way. None of them would cop to that, though. I certainly wouldn’t.
“What’s for lunch, boys?” I ask, sitting on a stone table that they’ve surrounded.
“I need to carbo-load, so I say pizza from Capizzi. We can get two each and see who finishes the fastest.”
“Capizzi’s makes decent food. I won’t lie. But I’m not buying today. It’s someone else’s turn. You guys arm wrestle and see who’s paying.”