Victor
I find myself staring at her, too lost in my thoughts to heed Luca's silent warning. Hellena continues to toy with her fork, pushing her food around the plate without taking a bite. She didn't eat a thing.
At first glance, she would appear relaxed, but I can sense the tension in her movements. And rightfully so—she has every reason to feel that way. She's in my house, at the same table as those who wish harm upon her beloved father.
"Is there a problem?" I direct the question to her.
My voice commands the attention of those gathered at the table. Luca shakes his head, and I'm curious to discover what displeases him so greatly that he assaults me with his gaze. But I'll set that aside for now.
Mario clears his throat, drawing my attention to his presence. For a fleeting moment, it felt as if it were just her and me.
"I'm not hungry!" she retorts with a dry tone, which fails to please me.
Her stomach emits a loud rumbling sound that drowns out her words. A smirk tugs at the corner of my mouth. She pales as she realizes her lie has been exposed.
"That sound seems to disagree with you!" my cousin immediately taunts her.
I give him a warning to shut up. Hellena lowers her head, assuming a submissive posture.
I don't like seeing her like this.
Mario sits to her right, my cousin in front of her, and I'm at the head of the table so I can easily observe them all.
"Can I go back to my room?" she asks lazily, casting her eyes at me, and for a moment, I forget to breathe.
I nod, and she promptly rises from her chair. She dashes upstairs, taking two steps at a time, quickly disappearing from my sight.
Luca continues to scrutinize me with dissatisfaction in his eyes.
It's been more than ten minutes since it was just the three of us at the table, but he doesn't dare say anything.
"What is it?" I glance at him.
"I don't like this," he sighs with his mouth almost full. "Neither what you do nor Hellena. I don't like this at all. All of this mess leaves me with a cold feeling. Something bad is going to happen, Vic. And you know that, too. Your plan was not to be a fucking kidnapper!"
I watch him nervously take a bite of bread and chew.
"Since when do you think I give a fuck about your opinions?" I retort.
"Victor, you asked me to put her in your bedroom! Are you kidding me?" He hits the table with both palms, making a resounding noise. "What about the 'no women in your house' rule?"
"If that's what it's all about, please don't bother!"
Mario is looking at us tensely. He knows that our disputes can escalate easily, but luckily Luca is wiser and gives in first.
"Stay away from her!" he threatens me through clenched teeth, and I feel the fire surging through me.
Not because I mind his threat, but because I don't like to be told what to do when it comes to her. I nervously push the plate away, spilling the contents onto the table, and stand up.
I pause at the top of the staircase and try to make the right decision. Although the wise decision would be to go to my office to deal with some of the duties I had today, I choose to ignore it.
Instead, I find myself standing before my bedroom door, unsure whether to knock or simply enter. I try to eavesdrop, but it's quiet.
Of course, it's quiet. She's just not going to start talking to the walls.
It's only when I grasp the doorknob that I realize Rafael is missing. He's no longer in his designated spot by the door, where I instructed him to stay.
I try to quell my rising anxiety, considering the possibility that he may have taken his cigarette break earlier.
Slowly, I push the door open before timidly rapping my knuckles against it. But my hand tightens on the doorknob, and I feel like I'm on the verge of breaking it when I see Rafael sitting on the bed. He wears a sick grin on his face, but Hellena is not in the room. The sound of the shower running fills the air.
"What the hell are you doing here?" I demand, my hand instinctively reaching for my back, blinded by rage, ready to pull out my gun and blow his brains out.
However, a shred of conscience subdues me from doing so.
"Patrón?!" he exclaims.
His smile disappears as he sees me. I know I look like a monster right now, ready to destroy everything in my path. This demeanor is what has earned me fame and, in some circles, respect from many.
Respect is often built through fear.
He jumps off the bed and assumes a humble position, head down, awaiting my command. But I don't want to talk. I just want to shoot something. The urge is so overwhelming that I succumb to it. I draw my gun and press it against his forehead.
In the next moment, Hellena lets out a desperate scream, causing me to forget why I have the gun pointed at Rafael and why I was prepared to use it. She materializes between us in an instant, making me tense.
I take a few steps back and quickly conceal my weapon behind me. I don't want to keep it in sight, in front of her.
I shamelessly gaze at the delicate figure before me. Her hair is wet, and her cheeks are flushed, likely from the hot water. She's covered only by a towel, one that's far too small. I'm almost certain that with just a slight bend, I could already catch a glimpse of…
Fuck! Don't think about her like that, you sick bastard.
"Get out!" I order Lopez, and he stumbles towards the exit, lightly brushing against her shoulder.
"I was the one who asked him to come!" she yells at me, her wide innocent eyes pleading.
Her lips are even more pronounced, accentuated by the flush of her cheeks.
"Why?" I demand.
I glance down at her bare legs, noticing her black pedicure, matching her manicure. Black wasn't my favorite color, but it's starting to grow on me.
I catch a glimpse of a small tattoo on her inner thigh, but I can't decipher its meaning. For a brief moment, I imagine throwing her onto the bed, compelling her to spread her legs so I can admire her tattoo.
What the hell is wrong with me?
I squeeze my eyes shut, forcing myself to push every perverted thought out of my mind.
"There's no lock on this bathroom door. I wanted to make sure I could take a shower safely," she explains, biting her lip and averting her gaze.
I feel a pang of hurt. I may be many things, but I'm not a rapist. And that applies to all those who work for me.
"From now on, the only person who will have access to this room is me. You don't need a bathroom lock. I won't come in without your permission. You can rest assured."
She glances at me, her gaze carrying a seductive aura that seems to penetrate my words. I know she's not doing it intentionally, but I can't help but be drawn to her.
"I know Rafael," she says, her words barely audible. "He's my best friend's cousin."
Something in her expression suggests there's more to add, something that would ignite a fire within me.
"Everyone in the Lopez family works for me, including your friend's dad. I also know Sofia. I can arrange for her to visit if you want," I offer.
Her eyes widen in shock. "She can visit me? Are you serious?"
"Of course. But only on weekends, I suppose."
"Why?" she frowns in confusion.
"It's a long and exhausting journey to get here."
Suddenly, something seems to click in her mind. Her expression darkens. "Where are we?"
She's biting her lip, and I know it's because of me. I'm not defensive, but sometimes I forget to let my guard down.
"Santa Marta," I reply.
Her lips part. She wasn't expecting that answer. Or any answer, for that matter. I think she sees me as more difficult to approach.
"But it's a long way from home," she sighs.
"That's the idea if I want to keep you safe. This is my home, Hellena," I explain.
I take a step in her direction, involuntarily, which I immediately regret. Her vanilla and jasmine perfume floods my nostrils, overwhelming me with desire.
"You know my name, too, while I know nothing about what's going on here. It doesn't seem fair," she remarks, her arms clasped to her chest as she flops down on the edge of the mattress.
The hem of the towel splits on her thigh, revealing a bit too much. I quickly turn away, attempting to suppress all the wicked thoughts flooding my mind.
"I'll answer any questions you have, but first, put something on," I insist.
"I would, but you realize I have no clothes here. Apart from the school uniform that needs a thorough cleaning," she replies.
Of course, she doesn't. I pull out my phone and swiftly send a message to Mario, instructing him to purchase and bring everything she needs as quickly as possible.
"What's your size?"
"The smallest size."
"What style do you prefer?"
"Does it matter? I'll be locked up here all the time. Choose whatever you want."
Something ignites inside me. Seeing her dressed like me would be adorable and unique.
"Anything else?"
"A laptop," she responds promptly. "I can't afford to miss classes. Exams will soon follow," she adds with annoyance.
I can see she's not thrilled about school, much like any teenager her age would be. I recall my own struggles with motivation during my youth. Then, after high school, I faced the challenge of finding the drive to finish college.
In my family, it was an obligation. Law school, specifically. We needed to know how to defend ourselves when the law came knocking at our door. Unfortunately, I couldn't live up to my family's expectations, so if I ever end up in jail, God help me find a good lawyer.
"Anything else?" I ask, glancing at her.
It was a big mistake. She's playing with the hem of the towel, causing it to ride up her skin even more. Just a little more, and I could see what's hiding underneath.
My mouth dries up, and suddenly, the air feels too heavy. Why the hell am I reacting like this? I've been with far too many women to allow myself to react like this now. And yet, the mere thought of her being less than a meter away, covered only by a towel, makes my blood boil.
And my dick twitching uncontrollably.
Fuck! She's too young, and above all, she's that bastard's daughter. I need to keep my distance.
"Maybe a TV, too," she responds after a few agonizing seconds. "I'll get bored in here. By the way, how long did you say I would be staying here?"
"That's up to your father," I reply indifferently.
"You were implying that you were keeping me here to protect me. Until you eliminate the threats. Have we gone back to me being your prisoner?" she questions, her voice tinged with uncertainty.
I pause, considering her words carefully. "No, Freckles. You're not my prisoner," I assure her, my tone firm yet gentle. "You're here for your safety, yes, but I don't intend to keep you against your will. As soon as the situation is resolved, you'll be free to go."
Tension fills the air abruptly. I have no intention of lying to her, and I'm not. I'm not using her to expose her father. I understand that's not the solution. But if there's anyone in this world who will bring Bernoulli suffering, it will be me.
She studies me for a moment, her expression guarded. Eventually, she nods, seeming to accept my response, at least for the time being. But I can sense the doubt lingering beneath the surface, and I know I have much to prove to gain her trust.
After a moment of silence, she finally speaks up.
"Why do you want to kill him?" Her voice carries a cold edge to it.
I hesitate briefly, considering how much I should disclose. But I decide to be honest with her. I want her to know the truth, even if it paints me in a darker light.
"Because he betrayed me," I reply, my tone firm.
Her reaction is immediate, her face draining of color as she struggles to comprehend my words.
"What do you mean?" Her voice trembles slightly.
I can sense her disbelief, but I hold her gaze steadily as I continue. "We worked together for many years. Recently, he decided he wanted a higher percentage, but when I refused, he turned against me. I can't let him do that."
Her eyes widen in shock, and she shakes her head in denial. "You're lying!" she exclaims, her voice filled with disbelief.
I feel a surge of irritation at her accusation. I don't like being called a liar, especially by someone like her.
"That's right, I forgot. You are your father's daughter. Too naive to understand reality," I retort, my tone sharp. "Then take it this way: I'm the bad guy, your father is the cop, and as in every story, the bad guy wants to get rid of the good guy. There you go. Satisfied?"
She falls silent, clearly taken aback by my response. Despite her shock, she manages to gather herself and make a simple request.
"You never told me your name," she says, her voice softer now.
Her request catches me off guard.
"Victor," I reply.