Guarded (Calavera Hotels #3)

14. Ariella

Chapter 14

Ariella

List of the top three baddest bitches I have ever met.

Thalia Consuelo. My older cousin had killed more men than I had fingers and toes. She was the definition of fuck around and find out.

Adriana Consuelo. My mother killed several men trying to attack us while my father was in Mexico. All of them had been a part of our security team and had access. Somehow, that night, my mom held it together, put me in the closet, and went to take care of business.

Jenni Rivera. The diva of Banda was a Long Beach native. When I was five, my uncle invited her to his daughter’s Quinceanera.

Cooper Calvo.

I write the name at the bottom of my list and stare up at her. Cooper Calvo was a bad bitch. She was also the most annoying house guest to ever visit me. Not only does she refuse to take off her shoes, but she also raids my fridge before even asking me how I’m doing.

Typically, other people- sane people- would find these behaviors of hers offensive. However, I find it intriguing. She’s everything I need in a friend because she eliminates all the fake bullshit. I can be myself around her because she’s herself around me.

After raiding my fridge, Cooper takes a seat across from me and digs into an entire sheet of cake left over from my grandpa’s birthday. Today’s look includes an evil eye necklace, hooped earrings, her curly hair styled in space buns, and her shirt of the day that reads “Fuck Dem Kids.”

As you can imagine, this was not the best t-shirt for her to wear the day, she agrees to help me babysit Lucia and Luca.

“I can’t believe you filled the class today,” Cooper says with a mouthful of cake.

“I know! I didn’t think anyone would show up.”

I really wasn’t expecting more than three people, including Cooper, so imagine my surprise when I show up to a full class.

Note to self: Cross that off your bucket list. Also, cross off the reason why that delicate spot between your legs is sore.

I recheck my phone for the hundredth time.

“Who are you waiting to message you?” Cooper says, interrupting my thoughts as I am about to run rampage with all my insecurities.

“What? Nobody. Why would I-. It’s no one.” I stammer.

“Oh. I know that look. You’ve had it all morning.” She points her fork at me.

“What?” I laugh nervously.

I am unsure of what she means and also paranoid that she can read it simultaneously. Cooper leans to the side of her stool in the kitchen to check on the kids, who are playing in the living room, before she lowers her voice.

“You got that morning afterglow,” she whispers.

I can’t imagine what my face is doing, but whatever it’s doing, Cooper is laughing at it.

“The what?”

“You know, that good Cha-ka-cha-ka.” She says, and my face flushes red when she stands to air hump my counter.

“How can you tell?” I whisper.

“Bitch, you can just tell someone fucked you good. Tell me who!”

“Oh my god. No. We didn’t fuck. Well, kinda, but not. I don’t know.” I sigh.

“What the fuck you mean you don’t know?”

“Just- never mind. Nothing happened.”

“Mmmhmm.”

“I’m serious!”

“Okay, fine, don’t tell me then.” She huffs.

I look down at my phone again and type three messages to Nero before deleting them. I don’t know what to say to him, but I have a lot of questions. Asking Cooper might not be a bad option—it might be my only option for getting an honest answer.

“What does dominance and submission mean?” I ask

“I fucking knew it. You quiet ones are some fucking freaks!” she exclaims.

I give her a pointed stare before nodding towards the kids.

“Oh, right, my bad. Damn girl. Well, that’s kind of like role-playing. Like one person is in charge and the other person is just like doing everything they say. The Dom could be like, “Get on your knees bitch.” And the submissive is all like, “Yes, Daddy.”

“Daddy!? I can’t call him that!” I exclaim.

“Hold on. Honestly, I don’t really know for sure. I ain’t never experienced it myself, you know? I mean, one time, this guy Phillip slapped me with his- never mind. Oh, look, right here.” Her voice trails off as she reads something on her phone.

“Okay. Hmm. So, according to this website, the submissive gives the dominant consensual power over her body. Mmhmmm. Okay, we already know that. Oh, it also says you can call him Master or Sir.” She keeps reading and murmuring over the article.

“Damn, this some freaky ass shit. Okay, there’s a test to see if you are a submissive. You gotta take this, Ari.”

“Why do I need to take a test?” I ask.

“Bitch this may be your thing. Don’t you want to explore your freaky side?”

“No! My parents are already meeting with my future husband as we speak!” I retort.

“And what the fucks that got to do with right now, Ari?” Cooper replies in her non-negotiable tone.

She continues on, unphased by my protests, and I’m glad she does because I’m also a tiny bit curious.

“Okay, question number one, I like it when my partner takes control in the bedroom. Yes, no, or maybe?”

“Yes,” I reply.

“I like to receive pain during sex. For example, spankings, marks, bruises, makeup running by tears? Damn, this shit crazy.”

“Um. I don’t know.” I bite down on my corner lip. Was I completely deranged if I said yes?

“Mmmm. I’ll say maybe for that one,” Cooper replies.

She continues with the questionnaire, asking questions I don’t even know how to answer. I don’t even know what an ownership contract is.

God. Did Nero need some kind of contract in place? Is that why he couldn’t fuck me? This was getting weird. Yet there were some things Cooper would ask me that oddly aroused me. Like “Do you like it when your partner praises you?”

I said yes, but it was more like a hell yes.

I liked how Nero encouraged me last night and made me feel like the most beautiful woman in the world.

“Okay. So, according to this test, you are 95% submissive. You are also an exhibitionist, brat, masochist, and -rope bunny?” Cooper says, questioning the last one. Her guess is as good as mine.

“So, what the hell does that mean?” I ask.

“It means you’re a freak girl. You want some kinky shit, so before you get up to that altar, you better have experienced something here. Once you’re tied down, it’s one dick for life, homegirl.”

One dick for life? I don’t know about that. Part of me was afraid that if I went all the way with Nero, if I submitted to him, I would lose myself to him.

Then I would break my own fucking heart when it came time to get married. It was a dangerous line I know better than to straddle. Even if every dark desire in me wants to belong to him in some way.

“It’s that man, huh? The man who stays following you around?” Cooper says.

Her eyes narrow on me while she pours an electrolyte package into her cup and mixes it. My eyes shoot up at her, ready to deny it, but she already knows.

“I knew it!” she screams. “I knew there was something weird going on between you, too.”

I look from the living room back to her.

“Shhhh!” I say, bringing my finger to my lips, the universal sign for cállate la pinche boca .

Cooper smirks, then turns to open the fridge.

“I fucking knew it! I saw the way he was looking at you. Damn girl, you really do be doing the most with all these meal preps.” She says, and I let out a laugh.

She pulls out one of the plastic bags and waves it in my face.

“Why do you have so many fucking tuna sandwiches?” she asks, opening up the plastic bag and taking a bite.

“I make them for Nero.”

“Mmmm. This is good! You better check your man, though. Make sure he’s not giving your food out to the hoe mless of Houston. These men are scandalous out here. One time I bought a man McDonald’s, and it turns out he took it to another bitch!” Cooper says.

“He’s not my man, and put that back,” I reply defensively.

I mean, he wasn’t right? He probably had a ton of submissives or whatever he wanted to call them. I couldn’t let myself fall into the delulu zone, thinking that last night meant more than it did. Cooper takes another big bite before she frowns at my fallen expression.

“Girl, you better not be sad about no dick. They come a dime a dozen. Besides, like you said, who cares? You’re getting married soon anyway.”

Right. I was getting married soon. I needed to remind myself of that fact. Even if there was something between Nero and me, it would never be long-term. I had a duty to my family to uphold the agreement I made about an arranged marriage. I would latch on to the hope that the honor I bring to my family will somehow be as satisfying as Nero’s touch.

The rest of the day passes quickly. Cooper and I watch a movie with the kids and finish a Pedro Pascual puzzle. Olivia picks Luca up, but Lucia refuses to go home. I can’t tell the little diva to go home either because I don’t want to be alone in the penthouse.

When night falls, and Nero still isn’t back, I’m glad I have Lucia to snuggle with. After eating our weight in iced oatmeal cookies, and ice cream, we build a pillow fort on my bed. I listen to her give me all the chisme she’s accumulated over the months.

She starts to yawn halfway through, telling me the names of all the new chickens on her dad’s ranch. I pull her close to me and hug her tightly. I hope she never grows up. I whisper silent prayers over her that her life is never as complicated as mine. Guapo snuggles between us, and we are all fast asleep within minutes.

I like to think I’m a deep sleeper. That chaos can be happening around me, and I would sleep right through it. Tonight, however, I learn that’s not the case. Not when I hear gagging. Not when I feel liquid in my hair and smell the stench of it. I wake up and see Lucia crying on the bed beside me next to a puddle of vomit.

Oh, hell no.

I want to throw up myself, but instead, I grab Lucia and rush her to the bathroom.

She relieves herself again in the toilet, and I hold her hair back. Thankfully, she doesn’t have any vomit in her hair. I run a washcloth under some warm water and clean her face.

“You’re okay, Lucy Loo.” I hug her tightly, and she begins to sob.

“I want my Papi.” She cries out, and my heart breaks.

Me too, Girl. Me too.

I know I’m supposed to be the adult right now, but I can’t help feeling the same as Lucia. I think for a second about calling my dad and asking him what to do, but then I remember she wants her dad, not mine. Dialing Thalia this late, I’m surprised she answers on the first ring.

“?Que paso?” she says in a panic.

“Lucia’s sick, like really sick. I cleaned her up, but she’s crying for her Papi.” I say while I start a bath for Lucia.

“Well, her Papi is currently vomiting his brains out. I’ll call and see if Olivia can get her.”

“No- I’m gonna. HUUUUGEH go. HUUUUGEH,” I hear Silas saying in the background.

“?Como pendejo si ni puedes caminar?” Thalia yells back at him.

They continue to argue in the background while I get Lucia into the tub.

“Okay, mamas, just sit right there while I get everything cleaned,” I tell her.

Guapo paces around like a fucking Karen by the door, making sure Lucia is alright. Like, at any moment, he’ll ask to speak to a manager if I do something wrong. Thalia finally stops cursing at Silas, and her voice calms when she returns to the line.

“Ay voy. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” She says before hanging up.

I go into mom zone. Even though I never had a child, I have been caring for children my whole life. Adan and Axel often relied on me to cook for them, iron their clothes, and clean up after them. More than once, I got stuck nursing them back to health after a man cold almost took their lives.

I roll my eyes at the memory as I pull my crusty hair up and rip the sheets off my bed. I walk past Nero’s room and see the light on under his door. Balancing the laundry basket on my side, I hold my fist at his door.

My mouth feels dry, and my mind goes blank. What was I going to even say when he opened the door? “Hey, Lucia’s sick, just thought I’d let you know?” then do some shit like finger guns and embarrass myself more.

No gracias .

I let my fist fall to my side and walk to the washing machine. This pang in my side tells me I need to check on him, but I push it down.

I get Lucia cleaned up and out of the bath. Her clothes are dirty so I put her in an old T-shirt of mine. I brush out her hair and put on Encanto while we wait for her mom.

Lucia snuggles into Guapo on the couch while I check on her clothes. When I return, she’s fast asleep, and Thalia is knocking on the door.

“Olivia said Luca’s throwing up, too,” she explains.

“You think it was something at Grandpa’s party?” I ask.

“I don’t know. About four or five men from Los Peregrinos are sick, too. Could be something from the hospital they picked up.” she explains.

“Did Lucia go to see him?” I whisper.

“Ya.” She sighs before following through with her confession. “Silas was against it, but I couldn’t stand seeing her sad, so I took her myself.” Her eyes shift to the side.

The monster they call Leatherface was Thalia’s half-brother. Unlike Adrian, who she always knew existed, Cassiel was a surprise. He was a link between Adrian, Mireya, and Thalia that didn’t make sense on the surface. He shared a mother with Mireya and a father with Thalia and Adrian. That made him my blood, as well.

“I figured it would be easier for me to face him since he wasn’t conscious. But it wasn’t.” Thalia says.

I sympathize with her because I feel like I can’t make sense of anything, either. Cassiel had hurt my family, and he had saved us all at the same time. He saved Lucia but also used her as a pawn to get to Genesis. He was the reason my friend had fallen off the radar.

“Is this necessary?”

“I can’t risk one of you mamacitas shooting me now, can I?”

I shake away the memory. I didn’t have time to bring it back to the surface. I may not want Cassiel dead, but I have far from forgiven him. He and whoever rode beside him that night.

When Thalia and Lucia leave, I make my way back to the washing room and grab a clean set of sheets. I slow my steps and stand outside Nero’s room. Groans sound from beyond the door.

I lift my fist again to knock and drop it. I do this several times before I turn the handle and let myself in. The bed is empty, but I see the light shining from the bathroom. Another deep groan sounds. Following the sound, I stop in front of the bathroom door and gasp. On the bathroom floor is a barely conscious Nero.