Thanks to Victoria’s web of connections, it didn’t take long to find information about the man who found it a good idea to deal in my territory.
Piero Alvarez, as he’s called, met Sofia back when he lived in Spain. She was a hobby artist and moved with her husband to the states in hopes of pushing her career. Piero made his business by selling Sofia’s paintings to clients all over the world. That was until he found a far more lucrative business, the most lucrative of all—dealing drugs. Hiding the pouches inside the paintings’ frames, he sold coke.
As the money started to flow, it didn’t take long for Sofia to find out what her husband was doing behind closed doors. Together, they pushed the business, but then Sofia took a shine to the coke. The addiction affected her work, and her creativity went to pot, her career as an artist going down the drain.
Sofia realized that her addiction was not only poison for her career, but also for her daughter. Then again, she was too weak to keep her hands from the stuff and begged Piero to quit. He refused. That left her with only one way out which was to take her daughter and be off, again something Piero wouldn’t allow. He threatened to start a custody battle, knowing she’d never put her daughter on the line, so Sofia’s only choice was to leave without her.
And now comes the real deal.
The day she left, she took a painting with her, a painting of high value—Paradise in Space—a surrealistic masterpiece from Sofia’s father, Leonardo Mateo Vila, one of the most sought-after artists around the turn of the century. Its value is estimated at a fucking one million dollars, something Piero was not aware of. After Sofia left, she rewrote her will, in which she stated that her daughter should inherit the picture on her twenty-first birthday.
A corrupt cop in Mexico knew an insider who knew a guy who heard about a painting worth a fortune. When Piero found out it belonged to Sofia’s father, he knew it was in her possession. He made it his mission to go after her, no doubt to blackmail her into handing over the prize.
Turned out Piero went to great lengths to find her, hiring hotshot investigators all over the continent. When he discovered where she lived, he came to hold her to task. Unfortunately for him, it got her killed.
So, I figured, why waste my time searching for that bastard if he could as well come to me? Why not bring the girl who’s responsible for this mess in the first place here?
Which brings me to the here and now, watching the door open as Emilio and Javier escort the person of interest into my office.
My first look at her takes me completely off guard. I don’t know what I expected. Maybe a spoiled brat kicking and screaming. Maybe a Barbie doll with fake tits and bleached hair.
She’s not like that. At all.
If it weren’t for her face where a nose and lip ring pierce her skin, I would have mistaken her for a boy with the black military pants, worn and ripped in a few places, and the white goth shirt displaying Slayer in blood-dripping letters.
Her hair, a brown so dark it’s close to black, frames a fair-skinned face and reaches her shoulders. Tattoos cover her arms, reaching up to the sleeves of her shirt. A ship sailing in the stormy sea adorns her right upper arm, whereas a compass with the words Follow Your Own Path in between the cardinal points is branded onto her left forearm.
And then there’s the cut on her lip, blending with a bruised jaw. I clench my fist trying to hold it together. Knowing his hand caused this, I’ll need to teach Javier some manners.
The girl takes in my office with her mouth agape as if she’s Alice in Wonderland and just fell down the rabbit hole. Her eyes roam over the books, vases, and statues littering the space long before they even land on me.
I approach her with slow but deliberate steps so as not to scare her but to display my status at the same time. The girl looks like trouble. Better she knows beforehand whom she’s dealing with.
I succeed in my task if the breath hitching in her throat is anything to go by, but when I stop in front of her, I only see curiosity instead of fear glimmering in a pair of the brightest, turquoise eyes I’ve ever seen. When I slide a hand into my suit pocket, she watches the movement as she examines the Jesus Christ tattoo on the back of my hand with keen interest.
Javier shifts behind her, and she startles, whipping her head around, her eyes suddenly huge and wary. When she turns her head forward again, she makes a strange jerk, rolling her shoulder as if an insect just crawled down her back. The tendons in her neck strain, and I notice her forming fists with her shackled hands.
For some reason, it looks as if she’s trying to gather her composure. I wait patiently, giving her the time she needs to process whatever made her so panicked all of a sudden, considering she was perfectly composed a second earlier.
Finally, she draws her eyes up to mine. I lift a hand, brushing a finger over her bruised jaw in what I hope is a soothing gesture, but she jerks back, horrified. Abused by her father, maybe? As far as I know, she ran away from home when she was fifteen, so chances are high her love for drug-dealing-daddy doesn’t run deep.
My eyes fall to my men standing behind her in true bodyguard fashion, arms folded behind their backs, eyes staring straight ahead. Javier’s suit sleeve is slashed open, blood crusting the fabric. Emilio’s forehead sports a bruise, one eye blue and swollen.
“Explain,” I demand, my voice oddly calm despite my growing rage.
“Boss, she… she had a knife,” Emilio mutters, handing me the weapon in question—a switchblade with a curved blade and ragged edges.
Flipping it open, I whirl it around and press it under the girl’s chin. Before she can jerk back a second time and likely cut herself in the process, my other hand comes up to keep her face in place while I examine her injuries. Her eyes shoot daggers at me, but I’m distracted by her mouth—heart-shaped, toned a soft pink and pouted in defiance.
“What were my orders?” I request, my voice still cool like the blade resting on her skin.
Javier answers, knowing the question is meant for him. “To bring her here. Unharmed.” He adds the last word in annoyance.
“And does she look unharmed to you?” I continue the interrogation, the girl’s eyes flicking between mine as if she’s trying to solve the mystery of the decade.
“No, boss.”
Her head jerks again, and she rolls her shoulder as if Javier’s words hurt her physically. Damn him for raising his hand against her. She’s an innocent girl, for God’s sake, and already damaged beyond repair.
“He won’t hurt you,” I assure her.
“I don’t like people standing behind me,” she mumbles, and she slaps my hand away with her shackled ones before saying in an oddly strong and demanding voice, “I have no idea what the fuck is going on, but it’s clear you’ve got the wrong person.” Javier shifts, no doubt ready to show her some manners, but he retreats when I lift my hand in warning.
“What’s your name, girl?” Of course, I already know, but I want to see how she reacts in my presence.
“Leo.”
“Your real name, girl.”
“I just told you, boy,” she mocks back, clearly offended by my words.
Defiant. Challenging. Rebellious. Foolish?
Oddly refreshing.
Still, I have a reputation to behold, and I can’t allow this girl to cross my plans, so I clamp my hand over her throat showing her who’s in control. The panic in her eyes is back, and I loosen my grip the tiniest bit.
“I’ll ask you one last time.” I scrape the switchblade lightly along her jaw. “What’s your name?”
She pants through her nose, probably assessing how much she can push but admits defeat as I hook the knife’s tip through her lip ring, pulling and watching her lips part with the movement. “Leonara.”
“Leonara,” I repeat, liking the sound as it rolls over my tongue. Considering her grandfather’s name, I guess Sofia named her after Leonardo.
She seems taken aback for a second, as if me saying her name affects her in some way. “Why am I here? What do you want from me?” She wants to know.
My hand slides from her face, and I step back. Her question makes me realize that she doesn’t know about her mother’s death.
“Will you behave for now?” I ask with a nod to her wrists, signaling I’ll cut her loose if she complies.
Her gaze only hardens. “I asked you a question,” she presses in a dark voice.
I tug sharply at her bound hands in response and cut her loose. Before I free her, I clutch the rope, yanking her into me, so her body is flush with mine. Tilting my head, I whisper into her ear, “Don’t make me regret this.”
Sliding the rope from her skin, I nod at my men. “Take her to her room. And Javier,” I add, my tone hinting he should heed my warning. “If I see another bruise on her next time, I’ll throw you in my terrarium to keep the snakes company.”
“Yes, boss,” he quickly complies, and I watch them lead the girl out, her eyes full of despair before the door closes behind her.