20
I’m meeting the entire Decena family today, and I’m shitting bricks.
They’re regrouping in preparation of the four weeks of no negotiations being over—but before that happens, before discussions with Robert begin, Charlie wants his brothers, Andres’ wife Luna, and I, to be properly acquainted. He tells me over breakfast in bed like this is totally normal to me and not nerve-wracking, briefly mentioning he’s set up a coffee date for us all and hopes I’ll make an effort.
I wish he would elaborate on what he means by effort. Smile more? Say yes rather than nod? Shake hands?
I have a mouthful of eggs but struggle to swallow. I’m so nervous. My throat is bone dry.
We take our morning shower, wrap up in towels, and stand at the vanity sinks brushing our teeth. He’s explaining something about a safe house that’s a klick down the road, saying if shit ever hits the fan, we all meet there. I’m not listening. I’m miles away, wondering if the Decenas will like me. My nerves are stupid and irrelevant given all that’s happening with James. Something so mundane shouldn’t bother me. But I know Charlie is close with his family, and I know he wants me to make an effort. What if I do try my hardest, and they still don’t like me? What will happen? Will he send me away? Will he change his mind about wanting me to live with him in Mexico?
If he does, he’s got a problem because I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready to let him go.
“Hey”—he gently touches my arm, rolling the towel at his muscular waist with his other hand—“you all right?”
The toothbrush sticking out of my mouth, I force a smile and ask if we’ll ever have any privacy now that so many people are going to be around. It’s a diversion, of course, for him and for myself.
“Course we will, silly chica.” He chuckles, flicking on the sink faucet. “This is our house, not theirs.”
I don’t see what is so silly about my question. Throughout the three months I’d lived here with him, when he’d bought me from Maksim, this place had been so empty. No housekeepers. No gardeners. It was just us. And I liked it when it was just us. Now, the lawnmower rumbles every Sunday morning, Eliza potters about everywhere keeping the house shipshape, and he’s dripping in Los Zetas guards and his family. I’m certain we’ll never have alone time—especially when he explains what his sister-in-law is like: intrusive, nosey, and extremely verbose.
“Luna is very eccentric, too, but she’s a lovely dama. I hope you’ll like her or at least try to—since she’ll be around to look after you if I’m ever away.”
Great.
Not only must I grow accustom to two more Charlies, but I must accommodate his brother’s wife.
“...Though the gym will be accessible to you before midday, all right?”
“Huh?” I blink up at Charlie, still brushing my teeth.
“The gym”—he grabs the sink edge while looking down on me, frowning—“the men use it after midday, but I don’t want you in there with them if I’m ever away, so you’ll have full access before they use it, okay?”
“If you’re ever away?”
“Yeah.” His frown deepens, giving me the once over to study my body language. “I just told you I might need to leave for France any day now. You know things are getting tense with Robert, so if I must, I will go over his head. I’ll meet with his associates to try and demand James’ return before he gets caught up in a bloody war.”
Things are getting tense with Robert? Did I miss something?
My stomach suddenly hangs at the thought of Charlie going anywhere dangerous without me, and Robert and James evaporate from my mind.
“How long will you be gone for?”
“I don’t know.” His expression softens, eyes flittering between mine. “Not too long though, I hope.”
“Oh,” I say, obviously glum. “Sure. I understand.” I spit out the paste, rinse my mouth, and turn for the closet to get dressed.
Charlie catches my elbow and says he wants to have a shave. “Sit with me, baby.”
I lower onto the wooden hamper next to the vanity sinks and snuggle in my fluffy towel, half listening to how his personal security detail will watch over me if he goes away. “I trained another detail before I went to jail a few years back. They’ll come with me if I go to France.”
“Where were all your men before, Charlie?”
“Before?”
“Yes, when I stayed with you for those three months.”
“There’s a guardhouse half a klick away into the fields, but you can’t see it because of the trees.” He turns up his chin to shave underneath. “When you lived with me before, everyone on duty maintained a status there.” He stresses that I’m not allowed to go there. Ever. “And I mean it, Blaire. I’m never in a good frame of mind over there, so the guardhouse is off limits.”
I shrug, unbothered. Why would I ever want to go to the guardhouse anyhow?
“What about inside the house?” I ask. “You never had men in here before.”
“That’s because I wanted to connect with you.” He glances down at me, bestowing his full attention. “Having my men around would have put you on edge, I was certain of it. I even removed the cameras in your old room so you’d trust that I respected your privacy.”
I raise my eyebrows, astonished he said that out loud.
He smirks at me, blinking lazily. “C’mon, I’ve always had some level of respect for you, but I think you knew that already.” Bending, he splashes his face to wash off the foam and pulls out the sink plug.
I pick up a towel hanging on the nearby rack, passing it to him. He says thanks by leaning down to kiss my lips, his skin smooth and cool, wet from the water. Heat gushes between my legs, and I pull away before I can’t.
The level of arousal I feel for this man isn’t normal, I’m sure of it.
He chaperones me into the walk-in closet and rubs the prescribed ointment into my lower back like he does every day, burning my skin with the odd sense of cold. He then dresses me in a plain black underwear set, an emerald green girly tracksuit with a hoodie, and a pair of trainers. Coming up behind, he lets down my hair to brush it out, paying extra attention to the length.
In our silence, my thoughts revert to his family, and my stomach knots tighter than it did this morning. The feeling radiates all over, making me feel lightheaded and queasy.
I can’t fucking wait for this stupid coffee date to be over.
When Charlie is done petting me, he shrugs into white boxer briefs, a black round-neck t-shirt, and a pair of light blue fitted jeans, slipping the silver watch over his left wrist. Lastly, he steps into his tanned boots and combs his own hair, pulling the disorderly strands into a ponytail.
“You look nice, Charlie,” I voice a rare compliment, picking at the strings of my hoodie.
“You know”—he side-glances at me—“if you don’t tell me what’s bothering you, I can’t fix it.”
My nerves over his family disliking me spill out before I can stop myself from speaking, and I become a rambling mess. I tell him I know I’m not likable, that I’ll probably offend them...
“They will like you.” He chuckles, reaching out to pinch my chin. “In fact, they’re gonna love you, Blaire. Stop worrying.”
“But, what happens if they don’t, Charlie? Are you going to send me away?”
“¿Estas loco?” Are you crazy? He laughs harder, fondly amused by my insecurity. “If they don’t like you, then they can hit the road. They know where the door is. And I’d be more than happy to help them on their way.”
“You wouldn’t do that.” I cross my arms to hug myself, feeling more insecure now than ever before. “I wouldn’t make James leave if he didn’t like you.”
“That’s because you’re not in love with me.”
———
Charlie and I descent the staircase hand in hand.
I’m a bag of nerves. My legs are like Jell-O, my tongue is bone dry, and I can’t stop fidgeting for the life of me.
I can’t believe I’m mere seconds away from meeting his family, and I’m agitated with guilt by the fact that he just so carelessly said I’m not in love with him.
He didn’t noticed my remorse. While I was gaping like a horrified idiot, he carried on getting ready, moisturizing his face and spritzing himself with cologne.
I could actually be sick I’m so...equally anxious and guilty. I want to be sick. My stomach is knotting and churning, bubbling to puke.
“I’m looking forward to you meeting everyone,” Charlie says while lifting my hand to his mouth, kissing me there without a care in the world. “It’s been a long time coming.”
I gulp down an uneasy heave. I can’t go in there like this. Not yet. I need a minute with Charlie, to explain how I feel. I can’t coast through the morning in this manic state of apprehension.
Nearing the bottom few steps, I pause, overwhelmed with the need to say something. Anything! I pull Charlie back and look up at him from the side, opening and closing my mouth to speak. The expression on his face is one of extraordinary innocence as he tips his head, gazing at me unblinkingly. He doesn’t have a clue what’s going on inside my mind.
Fuck, imagine knowing the person you love beyond words doesn’t love you in return. That’s got to hurt. It’d kill me.
“What is it, Blaire?” he asks, stepping down the staircase so we’re at eye level. He reaches for my other hand and holds both of mine in his, strumming his thumbs across my knuckles. “Baby, you’re worrying me. What’s wrong?”
“I would die for you without thinking, Charlie,” I manage to say, my husky voice barely a whisper. I glance down at our hands, squeezing his fingers to physically show that I care. “I-I know I must confuse you because I only really know what Maksim taught me, but...I-I do really, really care about you. I don’t know if what I feel for you is love,” I shrug, “but...”
“Hey, s’all right.” He lets go of my left hand to turn up my chin and tucks strands of my hair behind my ear. “I didn’t say that back there in hopes you were gonna start singing that you’re in love with me.” We search each other’s eyes, letting a moment of honesty charge between us. “As long as you’re mine, I am a happy man.”
“Really?”
“Really,” he says, winking at me.
My hemorrhaging nerves reduce until he asks if I’m ready. Do I fucking look ready?
“My family is dying to meet you,” he says, nodding to the right, “and I’m dying for you to meet them. C’mon.”
“I’m really nervous,” I confess, squeezing his hand.
“Just be yourself,” he says softly. Then teases, “Well, don’t attack anyone.”
I don’t laugh. I nod, feeling my heart drumming in my chest. Even my hands are trembling.
This is so stupid.
We come off the staircase and stop on the living room threshold, still hand in hand. I stare through the open door, scanning every moving body in my line of vision.
Nic and Andres are standing around the coffee table, laughing and playfully shoving each other. They’re clad in thick, black combat trousers with lots of pockets, tight muscle vests marked in their red Zs, and heavy black boots; guns and knives shoved in their waist holster belts. Their presence is powerfully boisterous, changing the mood in the house. It smells different in here today, too, a rich cocktail of masculine cologne and spicy perfume.
A beautiful Señorita with sleek, golden-brown hair is resting on the couch with her toned legs crossed, sipping a coffee. She’s wearing a thigh-high red dress and strappy silver sandals. Her bronze skin looks personally kissed by the sun, smooth and shimmery. Her sharp cheeks are tinted pink, and her lips are plush and glossy. There are necklaces wrapped around her slender throat in a stream of gold, and a honking diamond on her left ring finger.
“Andres, Nic—” Charlie starts, and heads turn to look at us. “I’m glad you’re here, Luna. Estas guapa.” You look nice.
“Gracias, Señor Charlie,” she husks, blushing over his compliment.
Hairs on the nape of my neck prick when Andres’ blue eyes fixate on me from across the room. He’s studying me, reserving his expression. Tattoos span his solid arms, elaborate writing drifting about pictures of a woman with her hands pressed together, and other less religious artifacts. His black hair is cut short all over, sharpening the hard features of his square-jawed face. He looks very young compared to Charlie and Nic. No stubble. No scars. Really wide eyes. But he’s equally muscular with broad shoulders and a puffy chest.
He strolls up to us, relaxed yet confident.
I grip Charlie’s wrist with my free hand, nerves shooting through the roof.
Shake his hand. Make sure you shake his hand if he offers.
“It’s nice to see you again, Blaire,” he says in Spanish peppered English, but then he falls silent. I realize why. He’s frowning at the thick, purple bruises on my throat where Charlie strangled me a few nights ago. “You look...well,” he struggles to add, his eyes darting up to Charlie’s. “¿Ella’s un poco joven para eso?”
I glance away and press my forehead on Charlie’s arm, knowing exactly what he said. I wish to be anywhere but here. I wish to be anywhere but here.
Charlie warns Andres to be careful with what he says, causing tension in the room. The youngest Decena falls in line, folding both hands behind his back while nodding once to show compliance.
“Say hello, baby,” Charlie whispers down at me.
I do as I’m told, accent coming out thick and blatantly foreign with a meek, “Hello.”
Everyone smiles.
I exhale through my nose. The first step of acceptance.
Charlie calls Luna over next like this is a meet and greet. She gets up from the couch on command, puts down her coffee, and sways across the room with her huge breasts wobbling in her red dress. Her perfume is so powerful up close, a recipe of something floral and spicy. It tickles my nose.
She head-bows and brushes her mane back when she stands up straighter. Her almost black eyes are elongated, feathered in sweeping lashes. They widen a little when she also notices the bruises on my throat.
“I’ve been looking forward to meeting the...woman, who has stolen the Señor’s heart.”
I don’t say anything. Just stare.
Nic remains by the coffee table. He bids me hola with a casual wave, noting in raspy English, “Andres is right. You do look well.” He doesn’t seem bothered by my bruises. It’s then I calculate that he must be sadistic like his brother.
I turn up my head to look at Charlie, who winks at me. He ushers me over to the couch, and I pull him down with me, so I’m sitting in the corner, so no one can come near me.
Nic and Andres slouch in the armchairs directly opposite. Luna serves coffee, causing the canister sets to clatter on the silver tray.
“Did the ship dock?” Charlie asks under his breath, leaning forward with elbows on his knees. I lean forward with him, cuddling his right arm.
Nic nods. “The buyers are collecting their gear today and tomorrow.”
The gear? He must mean drugs. Charlie must’ve lifted the sanction for his friends and associates now that he knows who stole me.
“And the cell phone?” Charlie questions.
“I understand Señor Charlie has told you about The Site?” Luna interrupts, dunking five sugars in one coffee.
Fuck, I hope that’s not for me.
She thankfully passes that one to Andres, another to Nic, and then another to Charlie. He nods to acknowledge her kindness, pours out one last cup of coffee, and gives it to me. I let go of his arm to hold the warm cup in my palms.
“You gonna answer Luna, baby?” he whispers.
I didn’t even know she was talking to me.
“About your Site?”
He nods with a smile.
“Oh, Eh...” I shrug. It’s all I’ve got.
“It’s nice there, Blaire, with unprecedented sunshine and crystal-clear waters.” Luna motions about with a manicured hand, holding her coffee in her other. “Your house—Señor Charlie’s place—has its own private beach.”
Charlie never said anything about a private beach.
She tells me The Site is a hidden string of islands in the Gulf of Mexico. The main island is where the Decenas live in big, Mexican villas, surrounded by a village of Los Zetas soldiers. The Village is surrounded by a fifteen-foot-high wall and private Navy vessels on the ocean. Connected via bascule bridges, the other islands consist of La Placer—which I’m certain means The Pleasure in Spanish—The Course, and The Docks, all of them also guarded by walls and ships.
“It’s completely safe. Even the government cannot see it on the satellite way up there”—Luna thumb gestures at the ceiling—“because Señor Charlie has signal scramblers set up.”
“You never told me your Site was a string of islands,” I whisper to Charlie, who’s watching me closely.
“Well, we’ll be there soon enough, and you’ll see it all, baby.”
“Does that woman, Celine, still live there?”
Nic and Andres go all rigid and silent while Luna whispers bitch curses in her language, branding Celine a whore.
Charlie inclines to kiss my face, whispering that she hasn’t been there since confronting me. “And even if she was, I would have gotten rid of her before bringing you home.”
I want to soak up my relief that she’s gone, but my cheeks are burning with embarrassment at his public display of affection. My eyes flicker ahead, catching everyone staring at us. His sister-in-law is staring, too, but not with intention. She waffles on about The Site and all its amenities, like The Docks where things are shipped in. I scowl at her, wondering why she’s exposing all their secrets to me. And this isn’t even the start of it. She confesses where the armory is, where panic supplies are kept, and a whole bunch of other stuff I’m sure she’s not supposed to know.
When she sits on the arm of the chair Andres is relaxing in, I’m half expecting her to catch a breath and drink her coffee before it goes cold, but she carries on. She diverts from The Site and tells me all about her sunbathing hobby and her children—children Charlie never told me about—amongst complaining over how their home lacks in shopping.
“I hope you won’t miss the mainland, Blaire? It’s a hard reality to adjust to.”
I blink to show I’m processing as I don’t want to be deliberately rude.
“Señor Charlie told me you like to exercise,” she’s states before saying she’s certain I will enjoy The Course. “Though, it’s not really for women.” Her perfect eyebrows wrinkle. “I can’t make it past the pits. What else do you like, Blaire?”
Apart from Charlie, nothing, so I just shrug at her.
I cast a wide glance around the room and notice Andres is smirking, cupping his mouth trying to hide it. When I look up at Charlie, he’s smirking too, as is Nic. What’s so funny?
“When was the last email you received?” Andres asks in Spanish, still hiding his smirk.
“A few days ago,” Charlie says. “So, after coffee, we need to get to work.”
Curious over what they’re talking about, I look between the brothers with thin eyes. I look back at Luna when she calls my name, to tell me about everything else she likes: clothes and all that fancy shit. “Your bracelet is very nice. Very expensive.” Standing from the chair arm, she comes over and reaches out for my wrist, but I snatch away from her on instinct, wondering what she’s doing. She flinches in shock, and Andres sits forward on alert.
Charlie lengthens a hand between us, shaking his head. “Sit back, hermano. You too, Luna.”
They do as they’re told, Luna frowning as she does.
My heart is beating a little too fast, and my hands are clammy. I can’t believe she was going to touch me, and I can’t believe I might’ve attacked her for it.
I turn up my coffee to have a sip, focusing on how nice and bitter-sweet it is, so I can control how awkward I feel. Charlie asks if I’m okay. I’m not, but I tell him I’m fine. I can do this for him, meet his family without doing a runner.
Because I do want to do a runner.
“...It would look lovely sitting on your shoulders, framing your bonita, oval face.”
I glance over at Luna, assuming she’s talking to me. Apparently, she has a Señorita here in England who is very quick and very good at cutting hair.
Does she mean my hair?
“No one is touching Blaire’s hair,” Charlie interrupts before turning his attention back on his brothers to discuss more business.
“Oh, but, Señor, if you saw what my stylist can do!” Luna slants forward and tries to touch a lock of my hair, but I snatch away a second time, glaring at her.
“Hey”—Charlie’s voice cuts through us all—“stop, Luna, right now.”
“Ohhh, I’m sorry!” she squeals, and I jump in my skin with surprise. Coffee topples out of my cup, scolding my wrist.
“Fuck!” Charlie catches the cup and shoves it on the coffee table, at the same time grabbing for the napkins in a panic. He pats me down, checking to see if it burned my skin. “Does it hurt, Blaire? Are you okay?”
Before I can answer him, Luna squeaks something in Spanish that I don’t understand, and her dark eyes water, turning red.
No...is she going to cry?
I stare at her like she’s got two heads, certifiably speechless.
“Hey, no, no estés triste,” Charlie says, do not be sad, but more tears pour down her cheeks. “Ay Dios mío, Luna, don’t cry. Blaire’s overwhelmed, and I just...” For once, he loses his voice. He hunches, cupping his forehead.
I’m stunned on every account.
She bawls her eyes out, sobbing a rush of Spanish words. “¡Lo siento! ¡No lo dije en serio! ¡Lo siento!”
Charlie sighs, professing, “This is fucked.”
Andres and Nic agree.
I think my heart just stopped working.
“We need to break the ice properly.” My bemused lover waves out a dismissive hand, emphasizing us all. “This white person coffee morning set up is a bust.”
“I arranged this for you!” Luna sobs harder, and I glare at Charlie for fueling her fire. “I wanted to help! I wanted to meet Blaire in a nice setting!”
I glare at Charlie a second time.
“Coffee was a great idea, cariño,” Andres battles to hush his wife. “But it’s too formal, and you need to relax. You knew Blaire would be extremely nervous. Charlie told us she doesn’t like to be touched, yet you’re trying to touch her jewelry and invade her personal space.”
“I’m just trying to make Blaire feel welcome!” She shakily puts her coffee on the table and weeps in her hands. “I’m just being nice!”
I have no idea what’s going on with her. Isn’t she worried about dehydration?
Everyone comforts her through her meltdown, begging her to stop crying. Nic gets up and walks around to her, rubbing her back. Andres is cuddling her side.
“Told you she was eccentric,” Charlie says under his breath to me.
I pinch my bottom lip to conceal my smirk, side-glancing at him. He flicks up his eyebrows and has a sip of his coffee.
“I just want Blaire to know that we all love her!” Luna is still crying like a baby. “I just want her to know that we are all here for her!”
“Blaire will know those things in time,” Andres croons, reasoning with his crazy wife. “We’re all staying until Blaire’s brother is back safe. Then we’re all going home together. We have plenty of time to get to know one another.” He orders her to stop crying, his voice coming out deeper with authority. “You will be patient with Blaire, and you will not overwhelm her, okay? You will not touch her.”
“Sí, sí,” she snivels. “O-okay.”
“If this is what normal women are like, no wonder you fell in love with me,” I whisper to myself in a state of understanding, sensing Charlie’s abrupt stare.
“How does that sound, Blaire?” Andres asks, and my ears come to attention. “If we agree to give you space, will you try with us, too?”
That sounds like a plan. I’ll do anything if Luna will stop crying and if they stop addressing me directly.
“We know you don’t like intimate gatherings, and we know you don’t talk much,” Andres continues reasoning with me, “but that’s okay. You’re family.”
Family? That makes me feel funny.
“Well, if we really are going to break the ice,” Nic pipes up, his pale eyes gleaming with amusement, “my wife and I are estranged,” he shrugs, pointing between his siblings as he lists them. “As you already know, Luna is sensitive to everything. Andres is too soft. And Charlie is...well, Charlie is Charlie.” He breaks out chuckling, and Charlie laughs too, unable to contain his amusement now. “Welcome to the family, Blaire.”
I lean against Charlie, trying not to laugh, but it’s so hard. Nic is charming like his brother.
Someone knocks on the open door, interrupting our moment, and all our heads snap in that direction. There’s a Los Zetas guard standing just across the threshold, dressed in black combat gear—like Nic and Andres—plus a heavy bulletproof vest strapped around his large body.
“What?” Charlie says, his face hardening with curiosity.
“Señor,” the guy says in Spanish, hesitating for a second, “the attack we were warned about happened. Objetivo uno y dos, atrapado.” Target one and two, captive.