Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 108405 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 542(@200wpm)___ 434(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108405 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 542(@200wpm)___ 434(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
“You said you haven’t had sex, but you also say he’s done things to you.” Pilar crossed her arms over her stomach. “From what I know, Cristiano is really convincing, Natalia. You have to be careful. Go somewhere in your mind if you need to until you get out. But you can’t ever want to stay.”
“Of course not,” I said. With a sinking feeling in my stomach, I knew that wasn’t what I’d hoped she’d say. I waded away from the wall. “It’s just that he’s complex. It makes it hard to know how I feel about him. One minute, I think he’s going to lock me away and strip me of everything, and the next, I learn that he’s not totally the villain I thought he was.”
“Has he done that?” she asked, her tone completely serious. “Locked you up?”
“No. Not unless you count staying in the house. I’m not allowed to leave the property.”
“You? But you never let that stop you before. How many times has Barto wanted to ring your neck for slipping by him?”
I laughed. “When I was a kid? More than I can count.”
She looked kindly at me. “You’re laughing. I’m relieved, Natalia. I was so scared of what I’d find when I got here. I know it doesn’t mean you’re happy, but I’m just glad you’re okay. For now.”
For now.
She squinted ahead, seeming to process everything. “But he’s always been the villain around our parts. Do you still think he killed your mom?”
“I can never let myself believe otherwise. What if months from now, I found out he was somehow involved? As long as I have doubt, I can’t fall for him.”
Pilar stayed seated but glided her arms through the water. “Wow. I didn’t know love was on the table.”
Fuck. I hadn’t even realized what I’d said. “The heat must be getting to me. Falling for him was the wrong way of putting it, obviously. More like tolerating him.”
“And Diego?” she asked. “What about him?”
I blanched. Once a prayer to me, his name sounded foreign now—I thought about Diego less and less each day. I blew out a breath. “Diego . . . is not who we thought he was. He can go to hell, actually.”
“What?” Her eyebrows shot up. “You’ve been head over heels for him since I can remember.”
“Things change fast around here,” I said, pacing through the water. “This is going to sound crazy but try to stay with me. First of all, Diego was the one who orchestrated all of this. The wedding to Cristiano was his idea, and he tricked me into showing up.”
She chewed on her thumbnail. “How do you know that?”
“Cristiano told me.”
“And you believe him? I don’t understand,” she said. “Two weeks ago, you hated Cristiano, and you were smiling ear to ear thinking you were going to marry Diego.”
It would be nearly impossible to explain what the last couple weeks had been like. “It still hurts,” I admitted. “Diego lied to me. I saw a future with him. I gave him my virginity, Pilar. I was smiling because I was on cloud nine.”
“I remember.”
“And then I find out he made the deal with Cristiano before we even had sex. Diego knew had and I weren’t going to be together.”
She looked at her hands under the water. “That doesn’t sound like Diego.”
“He admitted it.”
“But what if he had to?” She raised her eyes again, concern clear in them. “Maybe Cristiano has something over him. Obviously you don’t trust Cristiano, so why would you believe anything he says?”
I turned to pace the other way, glancing toward the house, maybe because of what I was about to admit. “I trust him more than Diego.”
She gasped. “Your shoulder! That’s the tattoo?”
I turned my head over my shoulder as she stood to get a better look. My butterfly was brighter out in the sun. I liked her more and more each day, but that stayed between me, myself, and I. Not only did I not want Cristiano to know, but I was also a little embarrassed to admit I didn’t hate it when the circumstances around it had been so ugly.
Pilar frowned. “Does it say Calavera Cartel? With a skull?”
“Yes,” I said, adding wryly, “A gift from Cristiano . . .”
She balled her fist at her mouth. “A gift? You didn’t want that, did you?”
How did I explain that I could’ve stopped it? That I could’ve begged his forgiveness and let him spank me instead, but I’d chosen not to? How did I say, without sounding as if I were justifying it, that I knew, deep down—if I’d truly not wanted it, Cristiano wouldn’t have gone through with it?
It all sounded like defending an abuser to Pilar, someone who was actually living the life I’d feared I would. “I could’ve said no,” I promised.