Well, Draco and I do.
Mrs. Molina perks up after her first cup of coffee. She’s talking about some movie she watched late last night with some of her favorite Latino actors in it. I smile at her when she looks at me, but the smiles are forced. Since she’s talking to me, I figure she doesn’t know what I did, and Draco probably wants it that way for a reason.
Why?
Does he not want her opinion of me to change? Or is he holding back because if he tells her, she’ll know he punished me in some way, after promising he wouldn’t?
“What are your plans today, hijo?” she asks him, digging her spoon into her hot cereal.
He shifts in his seat. “I will be going to town today,” he responds, and I pick my head up, looking at him.
“Really? To do what?”
“Run a few errands.” He drops his spoon. “Thiago will be joining too. He has a lot of making up to do.”
“Making up?” she asks, laughing. “So you were wrong? He is not against you?”
“I didn’t say I was wrong. But he’s proved himself worthy so far.”
“How so?” she asks.
“Phone was checked, as well as the tapes we received. He had the cameras in the SUVs running and Guillermo and Patanza looked over the tapes. He was held at gunpoint, as it seems, and they let him go but took everything. They’re trying to get under my skin now. Trying to get me out of hiding.” He drums his fingers on the table. “I still don’t trust him completely.” His eyes swing over to me. “Can’t seem to trust anyone lately though.”
When he says that, I cringe inside. Mrs. Molina doesn’t pick up on his snide remark. Instead, she flags the butler down, asks for more coffee, and then she says, “Well, I told you, Draco. You have to give people chances. You assumed something and he proved you wrong. Thiago is your cousin. You boys grew up together. He trusts you.”
Draco scoffs lightly. “I wouldn’t go so far as to say that, Mamá.”
She shrugs. “It was worth a shot.”
After we wrap up on breakfast, Draco takes off without a word said to me. I slouch back in my chair, finishing up the much-needed coffee before trudging up to the bedroom and taking a shower.
After I’m done, I look into the mirror, at the red marks still on my right butt cheek. I hiss as I run a finger over one of the welts. I could do something to help it heal, but I won’t.
Somehow, I feel like I deserve the pain. I deserve to see it.
He only wanted my trust.
He only wanted me.
It’s a shame.
I sleep in the bedroom, hoping he’ll come up so we can mend things, but I don’t get the chance to. I know he’s here, most likely in his galería painting, but he’s keeping his distance from me . . . and for some reason it causes an ache to build in my chest.
It’s there because Patanza is right.
I can’t sleep. Not with how heavy my conscious is.
As I start to doze off I swear I feel someone watching me. I feel their fingers running through my hair when they’re close, a soft caress on my cheekbone. I feel them there. Him there, but I don’t move. I curl up even more, sighing when his finger traces the scar on my throat.
I hear him let out a deep sigh when his palm runs down to my hip, squeezing lightly. I don’t know if he can tell that I’m not asleep yet. But I’ll pretend to be if it means he’s close—If it means he feels safer with me this way.
But, before I know it, he’s gone and it’s cold again. The bedroom door clicks shut and I don’t see him again for the rest of the night.
The next day, around noon, there is a knock on my door. Patanza is standing on the other side when I open it and she exhales, seeming agitated.
“Jefe wants you to get dressed to go out. Meet him downstairs.”
“Go out where?” I ask.
She shrugs. “Don’t know. Just hurry.”
I get dressed and ready in less than twenty minutes and follow her down. Draco is standing by the door with tan slacks on and a light-blue button-up shirt tucked in. The pants sit low enough on his hips to look comfortable, but still formal.
He spots me and watches me walk down in my burgundy jumpsuit. It’s a sleeveless V-neck with a collar around the neck. The cleavage is wide open and cuts down, just below my navel, showing off the curves of my breasts. It’s revealing, and most likely makes a man wonder what’s beneath the outfit. I wore it on purpose, along with strappy, open toed heels, so he can stare like he’s doing now.