1. Ariella
Chapter 1
Ariella
List of Lists I need to make.
I scribble at the top of my pink-lined notepad. Lists were essential for me. They eased my anxiety and kept me organized and, most importantly, in control. Sure, it was a little OCD of me to make lists of lists I needed to make, but this was how I was coping with life these days. Organization kept me sane.
To the functioning normal brain, one would see my habits and consider them extreme. Rotating my underwear so each pair gets worn as much as the other might not be understandable, but fridge inventory is logical. I mean, budgeting seems pretty rational to me. The underwear thing is weird, but I can’t help it. My obsession with object rotation started when I was eight years old with Bratz dolls. I didn’t want Sasha to feel like I loved Yasmin more than her, so I started my first mental list and rotation schedule. I think the sense of control is soothing for my brain. Everything else in my life seems so much outside of my control.
I am the youngest daughter of Aurelio Reyes and Adriana Consuelo. My father works as second in command for Los Reyes de Tamaulipas, a notoriously known cartel, and my mother is the heir to one of the most luxurious hotels in Houston, Texas: Calavera Hotels . The Texas location belonged to my grandfather, Vicente Consuelo. There was one in California where I grew up, but that belonged to his brother. All of them had branched off from this location, and all of them were funded by the Cartel.
I don’t know all the details of how everything operates within the cartel other than it’s a dangerous operation. My parents and two older brothers, Axel and Adan, don’t share much with me. They want to shield me from the family business like I hadn’t already seen the worst of humanity. What’s that saying? You can take the girl out of the Cartel, but you can’t take the cartel out of the girl? No, that’s not it.
I know my parents care for me, but sometimes, it’s too much. I felt like I was suffocating in our home, which was filled with bodyguards inside and out. During my first year of college, I saw the difference between me and other women my age. Even though most of them came from prestigious families like mine, they were much more self-sufficient and independent. They could spend the weekends romancing lovers or unchaperoned at clubs. They were experiencing life.
I wanted to experience life. To figure out who I was and what was out there. So, after I obtained my associate’s degree in accounting, I convinced my parents to let me move from California to Texas.
“I want to learn about the family business.” I lied
“I can finish my bachelor’s online.” Another lie.
“I’ll be safe in Houston.” The lie detector determined that was a lie.
Thanks to my older cousin Thalia getting targeted by a motorcycle gang and some other baby daddy drama I ignored, I was no longer safe. The whole thing was an entire shit show —one where I got myself involved in attempts to help out. According to Axel, my safety was compromised, and I was given the ultimatum. Go home, prepare for an arranged marriage in California, or get a bodyguard and stay in Houston.
The arranged marriage thing was not up for debate. No matter what option I chose, that would happen regardless. Surely, finding a suitor here in Houston would be more difficult, so I agreed to the bodyguard as long as it could buy me time away from home. Home meant I would be locked away on our large estate and molded to their liking. I would be safe, but I would suffocate in that house.
The walls would close in on me, and I’d be locked inside that dark room in my mind again. Depression would latch its claws onto me and pull me into the corners of my mind. It had held me hostage so many times that I mistook the shadows for company. Shadows of loneliness and emptiness. It would take months before the light reappeared.
My thoughts are interrupted by Guapo’s tiny barks at the door. Guapo is my emotional support pet. He found me when I was thirteen—no, he didn’t find me. He saved me.
His appearance often throws people off due to the burn wounds he endured as a puppy. When people laugh at his appearance or call him an oversized rat, I ignore them. I love Guapo, just as he is. Other people’s opinions don’t bother me when it comes to him. I make sure every morning I tell him affirmations that boost his confidence. Haters do not phase us.
I walk to the door and suck in a deep breath.
“Here we go,” I say to Guapo.
My fingers tremble for a moment before reaching for the knob. When I open the door, I’m relieved to see it’s not the first of evils, but instead evil’s identical twin, Adan. Axel and Adan, though similar in physical appearance, couldn’t be any more different.
When they were younger, no one could tell them apart. No one but me, that is. Adan appreciated that I saw them as individuals when even my parents saw them as co-inhabitants—the same person in two bodies. To me, though, their personalities were very separate and distinct. Axel was an intense and overbearing asshole who just made me want to punch the air. Adan, on the other hand, was calm. He made me feel safe and loved. That’s why he was my favorite.
Not once has Adan ever tried to control me like Axel. His methods of correction were the show versus tell kind. He was the best teacher and, out of this world, smart. Sometimes, he would do a better job tutoring me than the tutors my parents hired. Mostly because he had the patience to deal with my dramatic outbursts.
“Hi,” I say, looking out to see where the evil twin is.
Adan walks through the threshold and into the penthouse. Each of my brothers has a defined style. Adan’s style reflects his calm personality: an all-black hoodie, jeans, and sneakers.
“What the fuck is that?”Adan asks, and I follow his gaze to the cat tree condo where Guapo lays.
“Guapo identifies as a cat, and I am supporting him,” I say, placing my hand on my hip. It was a small fact I discovered after Guapo ran into a guest’s room and started eating her cat’s food.
The guest who told me her name was Starlight explained that she was a medium for pets. She only charged me a thousand dollars to do a psychic reading, and it was in that reading that she told me Guapo identified as a cat. She also told me that Guapo and I spent every single one of our lives together. I don’t tell Adan this, of course. He’s a skeptic and he’s already on my ass enough about wasting money on unnecessary things. Not sure where Physic medium readings would fall on his needs versus wants spreadsheet. Instead of elaborating on the cat thing, I inquire about the evil one.
“Where’s Axel?”
“He’ll be here soon. You better go change.” Adan replies and briefly looks down at my bare legs with disgust. Axel is not a fan of anything that isn’t a nun costume on me. I shrug and make my way to the kitchen.
“Ari. Don’t make this difficult.” Adan says from behind me. I open the fridge and pull out one of my emergency Dr. Peppers.
“Since when do you care about what I wear, Adan?” I huff out.
“I don’t, but this isn’t Axel being overbearing. Another man will be living here with you.”
Why did men always think the first way to stop sexual assault was changing your clothes? They never thought about teaching women self-defense or an even better idea, teaching men not to be pieces of shit. No, it was always “don’t wear crop tops or shorts.”
I roll my eyes and drink the bottle of carbonated heaven. My OCD forces me to take exactly three sips before replacing the lid and returning to the living room where I left my notepad. Adan follows behind me.
“If you want to stay here, Ariella, you need to listen.” I narrow my eyes at his authoritative tone. I take back what I said about him being my favorite brother. I’m siblingless.
“Or you can all just trust me and know I’ll be safe on my own. I don’t need a bodyguard, Adan.”
“No.” He replies assertively.
When I turn to face him, I can see the worry in his eyes. I always loved Adan’s eyes. All three of us Reyes children were blessed with my mother’s green eyes, but Adan’s were darker in comparison. The worry in his eyes makes my stomach drop at the thought of who Axel hired.
What if it was some old pervert? I hope they did a background check. For a moment, I think about putting on some sweatpants, but it’s laundry day, and these were the longest pair of shorts I owned. Adan lets out a sigh and returns to the kitchen. I hear the cabinet open, and I’m sure he’s already pouring a glass of mezcal. You weren’t a Consuelo without at least one bottle of mezcal in your house.
I ignore the way I slightly twitch, worrying about what cup he grabbed since they, too, were on rotation. You can’t control everything, Ariella. I settle my thoughts by convincing myself I’ll rearrange them later and return to my notepad.
Lists of Lists I need to make.
List of things we need for Grandpa’s birthday party.
Weekly grocery list
Things I need to tell Thalia when she gets back from Mexico.
Signup Sheet for my fitness class.
List of ways to convince Axel I don’t need a bodyguard.
I scratch out the bottom one. It was too late for that one. As if the mere crossing out of his name summoned him, I hear the door open. Rude. Adan at least has the courtesy to knock. Axel does whatever he wants.
Next to the word arrogance in the dictionary was a picture of Axel Reyes. I look up, and immediately, I am blinded by his ego. The devil himself in an Armani suit. He scowls at my shorts but I dont have time to tell him to take a picture it lasts longer, when the figure next to him catches me by suprise.
Oh my gatos.
My wide eyes meet black sapphire ones. I know this man—not on a deep or personal level, but I know him.
“No,” I say.
I stomp to my room, Guapo’s little feet trailing behind me. Once we are embraced by the bright pink walls of my bedroom, I slam the door shut. I close my eyes but can’t stop seeing those dark ones. There had been multiple times in the hotel, and I swear I caught him looking at me. A man like that isn’t the kind you want looking at you.
He was a member of Los Peregrinos, a notorious motorcycle gang here in Houston. He was the enemy of enemy. Not to mention he was fucking frightening to look at. Maybe a little hot, but still like super frightening. What am I even saying? Hot? No, that man out there gave me the heebie-jeebies. No thank you.
I lock the door behind me and fall backward to the bed. Not him. Anyone but him. The last time I ran into that man had been on Christmas Eve when my cousin Thalia had gifted me an orange dildo. A very large dildo.
The first and last dildo I had ever seen. All that shelter from my parents had made me a prude. I was always a joke because of it. That night, the sight of the enormous male genitalia threw me off. I dropped the damn thing, and it fell to the floor.
Then, at the most inconvenient time, Guapo decides to take off running with the dildo in his mouth. I chased him all over the hotel. When I catch him, it’s a tug of war, and when he finally lets go, I yank the dildo too hard, and it slips out of my hand. When I look to see where it lands, I am mortified to find it at the feet of the man standing in my living room.
“This is all your fault,” I mumbled at Guapo through the pillow. The same one I’m pressing hard into my face. This couldn’t possibly be the best option for my safety.