Chapter 9
NINE
age 13
Worry wormed through my insides as I made my way up the street, the words of my parents and my own thoughts slithering through my mind like inky, black sludge. He won’t do it.
I stepped over a mud puddle, chewing on the freckle on my upper lip. Do you really think you mean that much to him?
It had been two years since my papa had started working for Abuelo, close associate to the head of the Cuban secret police and also Knight's grandfather. And, even though it had taken a while to gain Abuelo’s trust, it was the opportunity of a lifetime for my parents.
My papa had brought us to Cuba with the hopes of living in a great communist country, having been instilled with the ideas his own parents had taught him: from each according to his ability, to each according to his needs.
And my parents had plenty of needs - my papa working with Abuelo had revealed that to me.
Every payday was the fulfilling of those needs. Up their noses or in the veins of their arms, while the small refrigerator remained empty. I'd grown used to it, the hope that we would actually have food and clothing that fit dying quickly, replaced with their desire for more things for themselves.
They were now hanging out with people who drove brand new cars, secretly imported from Europe; drank whiskey like it flowed from every faucet; and, wore clothing bought with secret passports on trips to Paris and New York.
And even though Papa worked hard, using both his charm and his wits on his jobs, he didn’t earn as much as the other, more seasoned men.
And now, things were changing, I could feel it.
Their expectation to live as those around them put pressure on himself and mama, and the whispered conversations between them grew until I could feel the focal point of their attention shift from his jobs coming in…to me.
Then, this morning, their conversation behind closed doors confirmed my suspicions.
I was thirteen, and a 'late bloomer', my mother said. But as soon as puberty hit, I would be expected to help provide for the family.
My mama hadn’t clarified what that meant, but my stomach twisted with mistrust. Whatever 'providing' meant, it wouldn't bode well for me. I’d never lived up to their expectations, and I doubted that would change any time soon.
And now, my only hope was Knight. I'd heard that he'd arrived a week ago, and I'd waited with bated breath for him to come around looking for me, like he always did.
The suffocation in my chest only grew tighter and tighter each night he didn't come, like a balloon expanding so large, I could barely breathe. Finally, I'd given in, and decided to go to him.
I put on my best outfit, a white lace dress that was already growing too tight, and tied my long black hair in a French braid down my back, with a red ribbon tied on the ends. I'd long ago given up on braids, but tonight I wanted to remind him of our past.
Because he was my future, my only hope out of my situation.
Abuelo lived in the middle of the old city, where fifteenth-century mansions lined the road, grand houses with big, light-filled eyes, their sweeping porches fat, round bellies, like laughing royalty. And Abuelo’s house was in the center. It was the largest on the block, a freshly painted cream color, with vine covered balconies, mature palm trees lining the garden, and large, sweeping doorways. It was dignified and stately, secured by guards and great, iron fencing. Royalty among the Havana people: a bright beacon of rich abundance in contrast to the dirty, poverty stricken streets.
Tonight, two extra men guarded the front gate, though one of them was smoking a Cuban cigar, its bright red a beacon in the dark night.
I’d heard rumors that some of Abuelo’s old enemies from Veracruz, Mexico, were trying to hedge into his territory. They had a long history, filled first with poverty, then with riches, and finally betrayal. I didn’t know the real story, only rumors whispered in the streets, but I did know that tensions were high, and El Abuelo wasn't taking chances.
Since the men were new, I wasn't sure if they would know me, so I snuck around to the back. I took off my shoes, easily climbing over the fence using the large wooden crate Knight had drug up to the fence years ago for me. As soon as I landed onto the soft grass, I kept to the shadows until I reached the large, columned porch. It was an easy climb from there up to Knight’s window, and I slipped inside.
His room was dark, the tile under my feet cold but clean. I turned on the light, finding his large, king sized bed unmade, with several pillows thrown onto the floor. In his closet, two large suitcases were on the floor, clothing spilling out of them. By the pile of dirty clothes next to them, he’d been here for days.
So, it was true. Of course it was true, the slithering voice in my mind hissed. He’d arrived and hadn't come to see me. And why would he?
My stomach cramped, nerves clenching, disappointment coiling. He doesn’t want you. You’re nothing to him. My throat was suddenly full and I wanted to run. To run away from the bright, golden room, filled with stuff , his stuff, and into the star filled night, never to return.
But, I had to speak to him; I had no choice.
I steeled myself and walked out of his room, quietly making my way down the stairs, where the lights and loud noise told me he would be.
I heard his laughter first, and somehow, it made everything inside me loosen. The man was annoyingly charming. Luck clung to him like a jealous lover and I knew that once he knew of my situation, he would make things right.
He always did.
I smiled to myself as I made my way down the stairs, anxious to see him. I was certain now, that my anxiousness that he didn't want to see me was childish. I could've just as easily come to see him. Why was I always expecting him to come to me?
I’d been proud of the fact that I was the only girl who made Knight come to her, instead of the other way around. But I couldn't expect that to last forever, could I? It was time for me to grow up.
My feet hit the tiled floor and I strode towards the brightly lit main room, a lightness to my step with the confidence that Knight would fix everything.
As soon as I saw him, my smile fell away at the sight before me, and the strangling voice at the back of my mind surged forward. See? It’s true. You’re nothing. Worthless and insignificant.
The room was brightly lit, luxuriously decorated, and filled with the laughter of men who knew they owned the world. My eyes had instantly found him, sitting in the middle of the room. A table had been set up between three elegant, golden sofas, and Knight was sitting across from Abuelo and other important mafioso men that surrounded them.
My Papa would burn with jealousy to be in the presence of such men, but Knight leaned back, confident in the knowledge that he belonged among them.
What made my stomach burn though, was the woman sitting in his lap.
See? He doesn’t care about you. You’re just a child .
It was Valentina Marsala, and her arms were wrapped casually around his neck, her eyes dancing with confidence and humor. She was perfectly made up, with a black dress that dipped low, showing off her generous cleavage, and her lips were painted with the perfect shade of red.
I suddenly felt out of place.
I had nothing on this woman, and the lip gloss I'd put on with such care earlier, now seemed so childish.
No wonder Knight hadn't come to see me. He had women at his beck and call. And even though he was only fourteen, he seemed more man than child, and they treated him as such.
My heart hammered in my chest and my stomach twisted in knots. Just like my parents, I didn't belong here.
I turned to run from the room, grateful that Knight’s back was to me and he hadn't seen me enter the room, when I was suddenly noticed.
"Tatiana!" El Abuelo's loud, welcoming voice boomed through the room, and all the voices in the room stilled. I turned around, knowing I had to show the proper respect to the Don of the island. “Hello hija .”
Child. I was still a child in these men’s eyes.
My throat was suddenly full; everyone had turned and was looking at me.
I forced a smile. "Hello, Abuelo.”
Abuelo was the kind of man that people loved and respected. He even sat at the head of the room now like a well-loved king, with everyone surrounding him. He was kind and generous but, if you disobeyed him, he could slice off your head with a word.
And his sword was sitting next to him.
Raul.
He was Abuelo’s brother and right-hand man, chosen for his lack of empathy to carry out the more deadly aspects of their dark world. He was well over six feet, with a wide, flared nose, and dark mahogany skin that matched Abuelo’s. His eyes were dark and stoic as obsidian stone, and now, I avoided his gaze. I tried to steer clear of the man’s notice—he gave me the heebie-jeebies.
"Tati," Knight's low voice filled my ears, surprising me. I hadn't expected it to be so low, to sound so mature .
I didn't look at him, even though he pushed Valentina aside and stood up.
"I just came to see if you needed anything else from my father," I lied to Abuelo, unable to look at Knight. My heart was pounding, and tears burned at the back of my eyes. If I looked at him, I wouldn’t be able to hold them back.
I could tell by Abuelo's reaction that he knew I was lying. He glanced at Knight, who was walking towards me, then back at me, his expression sympathetic. Somehow that was worse.
He shook his head, a soft smile on his face. "He's done for the night. Tell him Pedro will meet him tomorrow, as usual."
“I don’t understand, I’ve already spoken to him,” Pedro, who was also in the room, commented.
Abuelo waved him off. “It’s fine.” He turned towards a man I didn’t recognize. “Manuel, this is Bogdan’s daughter, one of the men who works for me.”
“Good evening.” Manuel said, turning to stare at me. He wore black pants and a crisp, black, button-up shirt. The left side of his face was twisted—like melted candle wax. The scar was large enough to stand out against his dark, bronze skin, visible even from where I stood in the shadows.
It wasn’t the scar that made my words die in my throat, but the look in his eyes.
It was…intense. Focused. On me.
“Her father works for you?” I didn’t like his voice. It was cold, and tinged with cruelty. And he was staring at me but talked about me as if I wasn’t even in the room. He thinks you’re a nobody, just like everyone else.
I took a step back, shaking my head, and he gave a displeased click of his tongue, then turned away, dismissing me. “What’s her name?”
I took another step back, then another…and another and another until the back of my ankles hit the stairs and I fell on my ass. Shame marked my face, although the men already had gone back to their talking.
Everyone, except for Knight and Valentina.
"Tati, you came.” Knight squatted down in front of me.
"Hi." I stared down at the floor, not wanting him to see how ashamed I felt.
Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw Knight glance towards the room. Was he signaling to Valentina that he’d be back with her soon?
I followed his gaze. Valentina, who was now sitting in the seat Knight had emptied, stared daggers at me. But Knight wasn’t looking at her. Instead, he was glancing nervously at the table.
I suddenly realized for the first time that there were stacks of money piled up on the table.
Shit .
I probably wasn't supposed to see that.
Embarrassed and nervous that I was going to be in trouble, I turned and ran up the stairs.
"Tati," Knight followed after me, quickly catching up. He grabbed my hand and pulled me up the stairs and to his room. He slumped down on his bed, but I didn't sit, instead staring out the window, wishing I could disappear.
"Why are you just standing there? Sit down."
Anger surged through me, and my face snapped back to him. "Why should I? I just came to see if Abuelo--"
"Cut the bullshit."
My lips parted in surprise at his tone; Knight never talked to me like that. He looked tired and yet, so grown up at the same time.
He'd changed. He didn't look like a fourteen year old, but a young man.
His phone rang and he pulled it from his pocket. Scowling, he turned it off and tossed it on the bed.
“Who was that?” I asked.
“Just Rook.” He shrugged a shoulder.
“Isn’t he your best friend back home?”
“Yeah. So what?”
God. Is that how he acted about me when I wasn’t around? I turned to leave but he grabbed my wrist, stopping me. “I'm sorry. I’m being an asshole.” He gently tugged me to sit next to him. "I didn't mean any of that.”
I reluctantly sat, and he wrapped his arm around my neck, pulling me close. "It's okay." My voice sounded meek, even to myself.
I waited for him to take his arm away, but when he didn't, instead holding me tighter, I relaxed against him.
It felt right, as if nothing had changed between us.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
I felt him nod, his chin brushing against my hair. "Yeah.”
“I’m sorry I just showed up like that.” I should’ve known better.
“And I'm sorry I didn't come see you, yet.” He brushed his thumb across my wrist, making my heart pitter patter in my chest. “I’ve been working day and night since I got here. My abuelo is trying to make nice with the men from Veracruz.”
“It's okay." I didn't tell him how comforted I felt by his explanation, though it still didn't explain what that girl was doing on his lap.
Of course, I knew that all the girls wanted Knight. That they threw themselves at him, offered him sex and money. But I was proud of the fact that, despite all that, he always seemed to prefer to hang out with me. And I hadn't even offered any of that.
“So what,” I tried to keep my voice light, “was Valentina doing here?”
“Valentina?” He huffed out derisively. "She brought us this week's money."
"Then why was she sitting on your lap?" I couldn't help the jealousy that bled through my voice. She was more beautiful than me. Not only beautiful, but sexy.
"You jealous, little polva?” Knight tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. I hated when he called me polva, little dust. Like I needed to be reminded that I was only dirt beneath his feet.
I frowned. "No. You wish."
He took my chin in his hands, forcing my head so I was looking up at him. I loved it when he did that. It made me feel like he wanted my attention so badly, he had to force it.
"You think so?" His gaze was challenging.
I nodded, staring into his eyes. The light from the window lit up his face and hair, drawing attention to how handsome he was. Even the moon followed this charming man. It made his eyes look more clear, and brought out the beautiful copper color of his hair. "I know so," I said defiantly.
He chuckled, amused, but he let my chin go. “I checked your window for a ribbon.”
"You did?" My traitorous heart picked up again and I stared at his classic Mediterranean styled dressers, not wanting him to know.
He nodded. “Yeah, even though I was busy. If you'd have tied a ribbon, I would have found a way to come see you."
I thought about why I’d come, and my stomach twisted with nerves, anxious about how to ask him for what I needed. Don’t tell him. He won’t care.
I raised a shoulder. "I just wanted to talk."
"That's good enough for me." His voice was so stern, it made me look at him in surprise.
"It is?"
"Yes Tati. I told you," he growled out, "you need anything, you tie that ribbon on your windowsill."
"Even if it's only because I'm lonely?"
" Especially if it's because you're lonely. You think I don't want to talk to you, too?" He reached forward, his thumb brushing across my cheek, and I stared up in awe at this man.
He could talk to anyone in the world, and he wanted to talk to me .
His fingers traced down my face to my neck, then settled on the end of my braid, softly tugging on it like he'd always done when we were kids. "I always want to talk to you. If I could have anything in the world, I would spend all my days talking to you."
There was a sudden lump in my throat. "Really?"
"Yes." He slid my ribbon from my hair and shoved it into his pocket, "this belongs to me now." He gave me a sharp gaze, as if he expected me to take it back.
“You can have it.”
“All your ribbons belong to me, okay, Tatiana?” He didn’t break eye contact, and he jut his chin out, his fingers tightening around my loosened braid. “They are mine, and no one else’s, do you understand?"
I nodded, still staring up at him in awe. "Okay."
"Good."
I licked my lips, finding the nerve to ask him what I came here for. "Knight? Are you ever going to get married?"
His nostrils flared, his eyebrows furrowing. "Why would you ask me that?"
All my courage suddenly evaporated. "What?"
He looked away, his hand falling to his lap, a furious look on his face. "My answer is no. I'm never getting married."
"Why not?" The lump in my throat grew bigger, and the hope I'd had in coming here died in my chest.
"If marriage is anything like my parents’, I'm never going to do that.” He peered at me. "Why are you asking me that? I'm only fourteen."
"I'm just wondering." I swallowed hard, standing up. The large room suddenly felt small and constricting. “I’ve got to go."
He stood up, taking my arm, his tone turning soft. "Don't go. Not yet. Stay the night with me."
"My parents will kill me." It was a lie. My parents didn’t care where I was, but I couldn't be here with him anymore tonight.
I needed to shore up my defenses for what was coming, and staying with him would only make it that much harder.
“Don’t go.” His fingers threaded through my braid, undoing it until my hair was spread out over my shoulder. A cool breeze flowed through the room, ruffling it. “Stay." He cupped my jaw, staring at my lips. “Please, Tati.”
My mouth was suddenly dry. Didn't Knight know that I would give him anything he asked?
I couldn’t say no to him. It would be like the rising tide trying to force itself back into the sea.
“Okay,” I whispered, and the light from the moon swirled around us like starlight. His eyes were still on my lips and I held my breath, hoping, wanting, wishing . His hand moved down to my shoulder, his fingers pressing into it, pulling me closer.
And then his crooked smile was back and he was leaning down until his lips were pressing against mine and I was floating in a sea of stars. His kiss was soft and perfect and I couldn’t breathe. His fingers were back in my hair, pulling and tugging softly as his lips caressed mine. I was warm and fuzzy and my knees were weak.
I clasped onto him to hold myself up, but he wrapped his arms around my waist, tugging me towards the bed, still kissing me. "We'll just kiss a little. I swear I won't ask for much more tonight.”
I didn't tell him I wanted him to ask for more.
Instead, I nodded, sinking onto the mattress with him, plummeting into whatever this would be…falling head over heels for him. He wouldn’t save me from my fate but at least I could have this one moment, this one night.
Because, for Knight, I would give anything he asked.
If only I’d known that he would take everything from me, and more .