Chapter 3
three
Natalia
California, Four Years Ago
Three years of my life, wasted. I run a hand over my face and narrow my eyes on Papa, who doesn’t quite seem to be understanding what I’m saying.
“Papa, they don’t offer this class any other way.”
He doesn’t look away from his computer. “I heard.”
“That means, I can’t take it online.”
“Yes.”
“And this is a degree requirement.”
“Yes?”
“And that means–”
“I know what a degree requirement means, Natalia.” He gives me one of his serious looks, his dark eyes just like mine. “My answer is still no.”
I blink. Then blink again.
“Papa, if I don’t take this class, I can’t graduate.” Doesn’t he get how serious this is? College is the only thing I’ve had these past few years. My online classes may not be much, but they keep me grounded. Busy.
Papa finally clicks something on his screen and stares at me impassively, tapping a finger on his temple as he stares at me like he’s not sure what he’s going to do with me.
“Natalia…what were you going to do with a degree in accounting? Work?” He utters that part like it’s laughable. Like there will never be a world where I can stand on my own two feet, away from him. It lights a fire in my belly.
Would it be so crazy? To get a degree and get the hell out of dodge? So what if I want to get out of this life? I’m tired of looking over my shoulder, of having armed guards follow me everywhere and Papa approve my every move. This life is suffocating, and I hate it.
“What do you expect me to do for the rest of my life? Just sit here?”
“Of course not.”
“Then? I need to graduate.”
“Forget about that, Natalia. There are more important things on the horizon.”
I snort. “Like what? Picking out paint samples for the next decorator?” He doesn’t appreciate my mocking tone. Papa stares at me sharply, leaning forward in his seat before speaking again.
“Marriage.” The word lands like a bullet. I rock back in my seat, jaw dropping, my mind working overtime to comprehend the words that just came out of his mouth.
“What?”
“You’re twenty-one, m’ija. It’s time to start thinking about these things. El lugar de una mujer es con su familia.” I laugh disbelievingly at his macho crap.
“I decide when it’s time to start thinking about those things, not you. I don’t want a husband, Papa. I want a degree.” He frowns and shakes his head.
“I’ve indulged in this hobby of yours long enough, but it’s time to be realistic. Why are you so bothered to get a degree you’re not even going to use?”
“You don’t know that!”
“I do know that, Natalia. You’re my daughter.
You’re not going to work.” He spits out the word like it’s beneath me.
“You’re going to be a wife. A mother. It’s time to start looking for a husband.
Someone that can keep you safe. Who understands our world.
The danger that comes with being a Hernandez.
” He nods, like those things sound right, but the words make panic spread in my belly.
“Someone to keep me safe? You mean another prison?”
“Oh, Natalia, please. Save the dramatics.”
“No! No, that’s what all this is about, isn’t it? You’re scared about letting me out of your sight, so you’re changing the topic to distract me.” He shakes his head, but I’m on to something.
“Papa, I’m just going on campus. Not to an arms deal at the border.”
“No.” He says immediately.
“What is so dangerous about a college campus?!”
“It isn’t just the campus! I can’t control anything outside of those gates. I don’t need to remind you how we lost your mother.”
“Why are you bringing her up?!”
“All it took was one distracted guard stopped at a red light. And now she’s dead.
I can’t ever take that back.” He says quietly.
I don’t know the pain of losing a soulmate, but I know what it was like to lose a mom.
And I still don’t want to live in the shadow of that.
I don’t want to spend the rest of my days hiding away, scared.
“Papa, this is no way to live.” He flattens his lips.
“I am done talking about this.”
But I’m not done. Anger burns in my belly, and for all that I was my mother’s daughter, I’m my father’s daughter, too. And Papa is a man to be reckoned with.
“No, we’re not done.” His face reddens. “Sylvia gets to leave the house! No one seems to care where she’s going!” I’m pushing all the wrong buttons, but I don’t care. “Maybe I should be more like Sylvia, who just gets in a car and leaves.”
“Your sister is different.” Because she’s a lost cause to him. Too unpredictable to bother with. He doesn’t like the fight that comes with dealing with her, so he just lets her do as she pleases.
I wish I had the gall to be like that.
“Why? Because she hates you and can’t stand being here? Because believe me, I’m getting there!” He rears back and stares mutely.
My first instinct is to apologize. I should feel sorry, but I don’t.
It isn’t until this very moment that I realize in his eyes, I will always be the only tangible piece of my mother. The woman he loved most.
“I’d rather you live to hate me than die loving me. You can stand here and scream as much as you want. I’ve lived through your tantrums before.” He rolls his eyes and turns dismissively, saying nothing when I stalk from his office and slam the door shut behind me.
Ramona is standing outside with a couple of maids, poorly pretending to clean the corridor leading away from Papa’s office. They look at me with pitying smiles, their eyes landing everywhere but my face.
Suddenly, the air in the house feels stale. Thick. Like it’s pressing me down into the marble floors with every step I take.
I can’t do this.
I dart for the side door leading into the property, dry summer air engulfing me as soon as the door clicks shut behind me.
Something nags at my chest as my argument with Papa replays in my head. I don’t hate him. He’s Papa. The only parent I have left. It’s even harder to hate him knowing he’s only doing what he’s doing out of fear. Because he’s terrified of losing me.
My legs eat the distance, taking me over the sloping hill behind our house and past the pool. I just want to keep walking.
Forever.
Instead, I end up at the stables Papa had built when I was a girl, checking in with the last horse on the property. An old gelding that simply refuses to die.
Reggie watches me as I walk closer to his enclosure. He knickers softly when I feed him carrots, and then he’s nudging me with his big nose until I’m sitting in his stall with him.
I catch a glimpse of one of the new guards doing his rounds. The young man nods at me as he walks through the stables, and I wonder how long it will be until he hears about my argument with Papa.
The man that my father once treated as a distant enemy, Matias now works with him very closely. Too closely, if you ask me. He’s been here for weeks, shoring up security with his men. They’re younger, faster, sharper.
Matias moves around our estate with the energy of a scary guard dog.
Papa’s staff scramble to do his bidding, to earn his favor.
I try not to notice his comings and goings, but it’s hard.
It’s like being in a museum and not admiring the art.
I’m obsessed with his walk, of all things.
Unhurried and in charge, like whatever is about to happen must wait for him in order to take place.
I wish my walk could command respect like that. For people to take what I say seriously. For Papa to understand that when I said I wanted to do something, I meant it.
Gravel crunches outside as the groom, Carlos, moves around the stables. I don’t bother looking up. He stills right outside of Reggie’s stall, and it takes me a minute to realize he’s looking in, staring at me.
I sit up and nearly jump out of my skin when I realize the wide shadow belongs to Matias.
Good God. I’ve summoned him.
He stares at me wordlessly before stepping into the stall, greeting Reggie with a strong pat on his glistening neck.
“You have a good horse here.”
I eye him warily, trying to read the expression on his face, but meeting his gaze kind of feels like staring into the sun.
“Did Papa send you to bring me back?”
“No.” I wait for a beat, waiting for him to clarify, only to choke back a surprised squeak when he lowers himself on the hay next to me.
“Did you…did you hear about the argument?”
“Everyone with ears heard.” I whip my head to watch his profile, the trimmed facial hair that just makes him look more rugged.
“So what? You feel bad for Papa?”
“I don’t feel bad for him.” His words take a moment to register. He doesn’t feel bad for him…
“I don’t need your pity.” I reply. “Besides, we’re supposed to be acting like we don’t know each other.”
My heart stutters when he chuckles quietly, low and gravelly. “We don’t know each other.”
“It didn’t feel like that in the church.”
“Mm.” He hums, nodding once. “That was before you became my buyer’s daughter. Favorite daughter.” He tacks on, meeting my gaze and daring me to contradict him. Oh.
Oh. My gaze widens as I process this, and in the short second it takes for that to happen someone sets off a swarm of butterflies in my stomach. I struggle to meet his gaze, struggle to even breathe.
“You alright?” He asks, peering at me carefully, like I’m the spooking horse in the stall.
“I’m fine.” The words fall out before I can stop them. They’re true enough, I guess. Even though I’ve just wasted the last three years of my life on a degree I won’t ever see. And even worse, Papa just told me how little he respects my hard work. I know it wasn’t much, but it was mine.
“Are you alright?” Something in his tone tells me he won’t ask again.
“I…I guess I will be. Eventually. I’m freaking out about something stupid.”
“It’s not stupid.”
“I was looking forward to just being a college student for an hour or two. Not Antonio Hernandez’s daughter. After Mama died, my dad never lets his guard down. Living like this…kind of feels like a prison sometimes.” I can have anything I want…within the confines of this house.
How have I lived like this for so long?
“You probably think I’m some poor little rich girl looking for something to complain about.”
“I don’t.” He says softly, almost like we’re back in that church again. It feels like I can tell him anything. So I do.
“You know, I only had one friend in school as a kid. Just one. All the others thought I was a little too awkward, I guess. Her name was Cindy. And just when I started to feel like I had something going on…Mama died. Sylvia and I were homeschooled after that. I never saw Cindy again.”
“Hm.” He says quietly after a beat. “I had Santos.”
“You met him in school?”
“No. In a group home.” I whip my head to look at him, but he motions for me to keep going. No follow up questions, I guess.
“It sounds weird, but…I was really looking forward to maybe meeting new people. Maybe…make some new friends?”
“You’re looking for your Cindy.” He says simply.
“Yeah, I guess I am.”
“What are you doing here then? You need to go in there and fight for it.”
I laugh disbelievingly. “I did. It didn’t work. And, as you so kindly pointed out, we almost brought the house down.”
“I’ve seen photos of your mom. You’re a breathing, walking reminder of her. With how sad and heartbroken you look right now,” I meet his gaze, gulping at the severity in his eyes. “A man has to be blind not to give you anything you’ve always wanted.”
He eases to his feet, and then reaches for me. My heart skips a few beats when he takes my hands in his and tugs me to my feet. He has the strong hands of a man that works all day. Steady and a little rough.
I like the way they feel on me.
The dry pad of his thumb grazes over my chin, tugging until I’m looking straight up into his eyes. His gaze almost warms for a moment, and then it’s back to that inscrutable, bigger than life gaze of his.
“Go back in there, and don’t leave until you get what you want.
” He reaches up, picking a stray piece of hay from my hair, his expression suddenly a million miles away.
“You see, you went about it the wrong way, Florecita. There’s no need to have a screaming match when a couple of well-placed tears will do. ”
I stare up at him through my lashes. “Isn’t that a little manipulative?”
He laughs darkly. “How badly do you want it?”
With renewed energy, I march back to the house and stand outside Papa’s office with straight shoulders. By the time I walk out, I have everything I asked for.
The class, two days a week.
And Matias, to be by my side for every single one of them.