Guarded (Calavera Hotels #3)

33. Ariella

Chapter 33

Ariella

A voiding Nero is more complicated than I thought. Taking a vow of silence when you need constant verbal stimulation was more torture for me than for him.

He attempted a few times to talk to me. Knocking on my door when I’d locked it behind me, following me to the gym and asking if we could talk. He even played on my love for gifts, bringing me iced oatmeal cookies and bouquets of pink carnations.

I almost broke after that. Surely, saying thank you wouldn’t violate my vow to silence.

The goal was to redirect my emotions. It had been a week, though, and instead of thinking about him less, I only started to think of him more. Even now, as he stands a few feet behind me, I feel his gaze on my back.

“And what do you do for a living, Miss Reyes?” I smile politely at the elderly man, forgetting his name.

Jim or Claus? I can’t keep up with all Preston’s invitees.

“I’m currently working in the finance department of my family’s hotel.” I expain.

“Ahh, that’s great. Preston needs someone to help him budget!” The man teases.

“Well, I’m more than happy to look over your portfolio.” I tease Preston, and he lets out a small chuckle.

His arms tighten on my waist as the two men continue with playful banter before Preston excuses us.

His fingers dig into my arm as he pulls me to a dark place at the side of the staircase. I’m forced forward before he releases me. His face is flushed red. The glass of champagne in my hand threatens to spill as the liquid tilts with his firm grip yanking on me. Using his free hand, he taps my lips with two fingers.

“Calladita te vez más bonita.”

A pretty woman is a quiet woman.

It was a phrase I heard a lot growing up.

“Did I do something wrong?” I ask confused.

“Oh, send me your portfolio.” He mocks in a high tone. “Don’t you ever make me look weak again, you understand?”

His nostrils flare as he stares down at me. I nod my head even though my teeth grind against each other.

When he leaves me in the shadows, I take a few breaths to calm myself. The urge to drive my fist into the wall has never been greater.

I’d seen my brother Axel do this a thousand times and always thought it was a display of pure masculine stupidity. Who was Preston Cuevas to demand such a thing from me?

Realizing I’m not alone, I look up to find Nero’s dark expression watching me. Staring back, I bring the champagne up to my lips and chug.

Fuck men.

Opting to avoid another misperceived conversation, I wander through the mansion—a vision of grandeur. Crystal chandeliers hang from high ceilings adorned with shimmering lights.

An array of fine art reminds me of my soon-to-be husband’s wealth and taste. My fingers graze a painting of a woman draped in a rebozo carrying a basket of blankets. I laugh when I think about it. He wants me to be like the pictures on these walls—beautiful and quiet.

I grab another glass of champagne from a passing server. Preston is hosting our engagement party at his home, which I will move into after the wedding. The guests include high-profile politicians, international Drug dealers disguised as businessmen, and the occasional familiar face from the entertainment world.

I keep quiet and eavesdrop on conversations, mostly meaningless small talk, but others are whispered deals. I have attended enough of these parties to know there is a shared understanding of the power dynamics at play.

The party seems to pivot slightly to a more relaxed, hedonistic vibe as the night drags on. Everyone was either drunk or high at this point, myself included. The music becomes more intoxicating, the drinks flow more freely, and the laughter grows louder. And I do as Lord Fuck Face requests. Stand there and look pretty.

Nothing more than a hello here and a nice to meet you there. Tonight is my introduction to his world. While many faces are familiar, I miss my family’s strong presence. I’m about four flutes of champagne in when I recognize one of the black-clad servers walking towards me.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” I say the sarcasm rolling off easily with the heightening amount of alcohol in my system.

Alma’s eyes soften as she lowers the tray with some type of stuffed mushroom. Eww. I hate mushrooms.

“Ya, I’ll pass,” I say, shooing her away.

Jesus Christ, I wasn’t in this mansion long and already taking on the persona of a rich asshole.

“Ari, can we talk?” she asks, looking up the long staircase.

Reluctantly, I nod before remembering that my every move was followed by the broody man behind me.

“Hold on,” I tell Alma.

Taking a deep breath, I swallow the anxiety coming up.

Play it cool, Ari.

“Can you help me find my purse?” I ask Nero, and his eyes narrow on me.

He looks past me at Alma and nods his head. They’re the first words I’ve spoken to him all week. He doesn’t challenge me, though, not here.

“I’ll find it, Princess.” He smirks sarcastically.

I sneak up the stairs as soon as his back is to mine.

“Ugh, I’m getting so sick of him,” I say breathlessly when I get to the top of the stairs where Alma is waiting for me.

From Preston’s mini tour, I knew most rooms here were empty. Picking one randomly, I pull Alma in with me and lock the door behind us.

It’s the first time we’ve been alone in this proximity. Looking her over, I take in her flawless skin. I rarely see her with makeup now that I think about it. As a skincare junkie, I respect another skin slut when I see one.

“What did you need to talk to me about?” I ask point-blank.

“I wanted to apologize about the other day. In the bathroom.” She plays with her hands, and I take a deep breath.

“It’s fine. You’re not the first or the last person to not like me.”

“That’s just it. I don’t know enough about you to say whether or not I like you. But I was wrong to let Shawny influence my words. Thalia is my best friend, and I know she adores you. You could have told Thalia, and she’d have cut me off.” She explains.

“Thalia and I aren’t that close.”

“Are you kidding me?” her brows knit together. “She stormed into a room full of men once and looked Axel right in the face the day after Lucia was returned. She threatened his life after he tried convincing your parents to take you back to California.”

Warmth expands through my chest at her words.

“Oh. I never knew that.” I say, a mixture of emotions flowing through me.

For too long, I’ve let toxic thoughts in my brain convince me of irrational fears. They convinced me I was a nuisance to Thalia and everyone around me. I guess I underestimated the power primidad. That’s probably not a word, but being a no-sabo kid meant I made up words frequently. Either way, cousin power was a real thing.

Alma gives me a lopsided smile.

“She’d cut my tits off for the way I treated you. I’m sorry.” She laughs.

“Wait, did you think I wanted Efren?” I ask, cautious of her apology.

“No, I think Efren was just using you to fuck with me and well Shawny has been jealous of you since Nero became, you’re bodyguard.” She says bodyguard with a questioning tone.

Right. My bodyguard.

Nothing more or nothing less. She reaches into the pockets of her apron and offers me a folded piece of paper.

“The eggs Benedict recipe from Efren, and my peace offering. He told me that’s what you wanted.” She says, holding it up to me.

“Thank you!” I say and leap to hug her.

I hate conflict. At my core I was a girl’s girl. A lover, not a fighter. Alma hugs me back, and it’s not weird at all. Just two huggy bitches indulging in a hug.

“We better get back before Nero realizes I didn’t bring a purse,” I say, releasing her.

Alma is closest to the door when we hear footsteps headed our way.

“Shit!” I pull her with me to hide in the room’s adjacent bathroom. When the door opens, I recognize the voice.

“I’ve got ten minutes before someone notices I’m gone. If you want your money, then work fast.” Preston escorts his flavor of the night into the empty room, passing carelessly by the bathroom.

The mirror facing opposite the bathroom door shows the scene unfolding.

God not again .

I push farther back into the corner of the bathroom and sigh.

“Isn’t that your fiancé?” Alma whispers

“Something like that,” I whisper back.

I take a seat in the bathtub, and she follows behind me. Her eyes widen as she takes in my nonchalant response. Stretching my arms above my neck and rolling my neck I prepare for another live porno starring my fiancé. Hopefully, this was over quickly.

“I’m sorry,” Alma whispers, and I shrug.

“Could you not tell anyone about this?” I whisper.

She doesn’t say anything, but the look in her eyes promises sworn secrecy. What’s that saying? Friends who watch porn together- ugh never mind.

The sounds from the room make it difficult to ignore what’s happening in the bedroom. I look up to the mirror watching Preston thrust into the girls face, his bare ass on full display.

Alma’s curious eyes meet mine in the mirror. My hand covers the laugh threatening to escape. Preston eventually groans out, finishing and zipping up his pants.

Alma and I duck down when he passes by the bathroom, the woman following behind him. I get out of the bath, fix my now wrinkled silk pink dress, and offer a hand to Alma, pulling her up.

“You go first, and then I’ll follow a few minutes after,” I whisper, pointing to the door.

Alma leaves, and I sing the whole Bring it On cheer in my head twice before I make my grand escape, only when I open the door, Preston is standing there.

His mouth falls open.

“Ari! What are you-” he lets out a small laugh and shakes the confusion from his face.

“Is this going to be a problem?” He asks.

The audacity in his tone is wild.

Truth, in its rawest form, can look like this.

Maybe I should be sad, but I’m not. I shake my head and loop my arm in his. My silent pack with the devil.

He leads me back down the stairs, where Nero glares at me from the bottom as Preston and I descend. Our never-ending show of love and devotion. It’s amazing how little fucks I give in this moment. Preston’s words echo in my mind.

“Is it going to be a problem?”

Not at all, hubby dearest.