Chapter 22 #2
“I’m certain Abuelo’s in a foul mood flying commercial, but he doesn’t have any richer friends right now to fly him where he wants to go.
With Néstor dead, his connections to the government and their resources are gone.
He’ll want to shower and change since he feels flying commercial is so pedestrian. Yet he does it anyway.”
I scan my gaze around the men with me and find them grinning. Clearly, they agree with my assessment.
“Florencia, we have men who work at the hotel and others staked out around it. I made sure our guys are also in the rooms next to his and across the hall.”
I don’t want to know how Enrique made that happen since I’m sure at least one of those three already had occupants. Probably some type of maintenance issue that made those guests move. I’m certain Enrique will know his comings and goings.
“He can’t come near you, Florencia, unless Pablo allows it.”
I like that even though Enrique leads the family, he’s deferring to Pablo on this. It reassures me, and I feel more confident than I did a minute ago. Pablo squeezes my hand, and I relax.
“Flora, if you decide you want to see Ernesto, I’ll make it happen. But if you don’t, then he won’t breathe within a ten-mile radius of you.”
I nod and squeeze his hand in return. I shift my focus back to Enrique as he speaks.
“Pablo and I have discussed your role several times. Both of us agree you don’t have to tell us anything you don’t want to. Neither of us will ask. Share what you want or keep it to yourself. I don’t want you to fear I’m going to demand information at any moment.”
I observe Enrique and wonder if this is the manipulation my mother warned me about.
Is he trying to put me at ease so I lower my guard and confide in him?
Maybe, but I don’t believe that about Pablo.
He hasn’t asked me anything about the lab or the recipe I came up with.
That sounds like such a benign term compared to formula.
It’s as though I were baking a cake rather than baking cocaine.
Part of me wants to tell Enrique where the lab is and share the formula purely out of spite because I hated every moment of working for Humberto.
I’d rather not think about it anymore, especially since the man is dead.
I never have to see him again or work for him.
However, part of me is saving that information for a rainy day.
I want to say my faith is blind with Pablo, but all of this is still so new.
I feel like the formula is my life vest that I can take out in case of emergency.
I nod and remain quiet. Luis finally speaks up, so I twist to look at him.
“Florencia, I know the things you’ve been told about our family, and not just from your own.
We know the reputation we’ve cultivated.
It’s been on purpose. Maybe you haven’t heard much about what we’re like together as a family, only what we do to other people as a family.
You are the woman Pablo chose. He has an opportunity I didn’t. ”
My brow furrows. I know little about Pablo’s family’s private lives except for what he shared in Switzerland. We talked about our pasts with our families, but we shared nothing overly private.
“My parents and my wife’s parents arranged my marriage to Margherita, but my mamá and papá knew we’d be a perfect fit.
I count my blessings our family’s in a position to let the younger generation choose who they want to be with.
Pablo chose you. I know he’s meant to be with you because I trust my son’s decisions.
That makes you family to all of us. Our loyalty is to you.
We understand why you might not be ready to give us yours entirely.
But no matter what, nothing I do will ever be to hurt my son intentionally, which is what would happen if we betrayed you.
Whether you believe us because we’re making this promise for your sake, or it’s because you know we also make it for Pablo’s, we’re on your side no matter what. ”
I’m not sure what to make of it when my possibly—maybe—probably future father-in-law pretty much says you’re his son’s soulmate.
We’ve been in New York for a week, and I’ve slept a large part of that.
Apparently, the stress of the past few months slammed into me now that I feel completely safe, and I’ve become a narcoleptic.
Pablo’s bed is comfier than any other I’ve ever slept in, but I suspect that’s because of him and not the mattress.
I’m certainly spoiled getting to curl up next to him every night and waking up in his arms every morning.
Hell, at least twice in the middle of every night.
I know eventually the novelty will wear off, and we won’t wake each other to fuck.
But for now, I certainly won’t complain.
He’s left the apartment a few times to deal with work stuff.
He ends up coming back stressed out. He swears nothing is wrong, but clearly something bothers him.
I think some of it is leaving me here without him.
I know there’re adequate guards because I see the men outside his door whenever he leaves.
When we go for walks, they blend into the surrounding crowd, but I know they’re there.
He’s the only unit on the penthouse floor.
There’s more to his top-floor Manhattan apartment than just the breathtaking view.
It’s so nobody can get to him easily. By the time anyone who comes to attack him gets to the second floor, he’ll know about it.
Nobody’s coming down from the roof because the angle of the slanted tiles is too steep.
It would be like something out of Mission Impossible.
Lavish doesn’t even begin to describe this place.
His decor isn’t over the top. It’s actually really homey, but he certainly has the best of the best. He even has a pool up here.
Plenty of buildings have rooftop pools, but this is for his private use.
It reminds me of Switzerland. Who would’ve thought I could be nostalgic over something like a mountainside lair where I hid from mercenaries for two weeks, but it certainly felt safer than the wilds of New York City.
“Chiquita, are you ready?”
“Yeah, I’m coming.”
If only I were saying that during sex. Instead, we’re about to meet his entire family at a restaurant.
It’ll be my formal introduction to people I’ve only heard about.
People who absolutely despise everything about my family.
I can’t help but be nervous that they’ll only be polite for Pablo’s sake, but they’ll hate me behind my back.
Worst-case scenario, they’ll reject me to my face.
However, I don’t believe they’d do that, and that’s purely because of Pablo.
They wouldn’t hurt him like that, but that doesn’t mean they’ll welcome me or accept me any more than the bare minimum.
“Chiquita, you look beautiful.”
He kisses me behind my ear, and I get a waft of his cologne that’s so incredibly familiar to me I even dream about it. Lavender used to be my favorite. It has always been so calming, but getting a whiff of Pablo’s cologne tells me he’s nearby. Not only does that calm me, it reassures me.
“You look pretty good too, Daddy.”
“Just pretty good?”
“Pretty gorgeous. Is that better?”
“Much. Little one, I want to make sure I look the part for being the man on your arm.”
“Oh, you’re the arm candy. I could get used to that.”
“Only for you, chica.”
“Damn right, Daddy.”
He offers me a searing kiss that has me grasping the front of his shirt as he pulls away.
I slide two fingers between the buttons and kiss him back with full force.
His hand rains down on my ass, and it stings.
He does it four more times before he backs away.
It’s the distraction I need to get me out the door.
The restaurant is an unprecedentedly quick ride into Queens—at least that’s how it feels.
He fucks me hard enough I fear the driver and bodyguard on the other side of the town car’s privacy glass will know what we’re up to.
It should embarrass me to meet his mother with his cum on the inside of my thighs, but he understands how comforting that is to me.
It’s a little part of him with me when I know he’ll have to step away to talk to other people.
I can’t be glued to his side during the entire dinner.
I don’t want to appear that needy and childish, but it’s certainly tempting.
“Chiquita, I wouldn’t bring you around people who have ill intentions for you. I understand you’re scared, but I swear it’ll be all right.”
I nod once, the trepidation clogging my throat.
“Flora, if you don’t feel comfortable or anything happens, we leave immediately. No questions asked. I won’t be upset with you. I won’t have you somewhere you feel unwelcome or unsafe.”
“Thank you, Daddy.”
I appreciate his saying that now, but I know he’d resent it if I made him leave his family dinner because I’m having a tantrum. I can’t do that to him, so I’m going to have to suck it up. It may not be easy, but I’ve dealt with far worse. I can deal with this too.
When we are presentable, he raps on the car window, and the driver opens the door. Pablo slides out and offers me his hand as he buttons his suit coat. I think it’s so fucking sexy watching him do that whenever he stands and watching him unbutton it when he sits.
The way he can do it with just one hand is some suave James Bond–level shit.
Sean Connery James Bond. None of those other wannabe guys.
Though, I’ll take Daniel Craig in a pinch.
My mind’s wandering to distract myself from how apprehensive I feel right now.
This is straight up a thousand times scarier than meeting Humberto for the first time.
It’s even scarier than when Humberto arrived at the Colombian estate, and I didn’t know if we faced a full-blown attack.