Emiliano
WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU?
I think this woman is hellbent on putting her life in danger.
I’ve just parked my car outside the house and I stare at it, the white siding and black trim and shutters freshly painted. She’s somewhere inside, the black armored Range Rover parked exactly where I left it. At least I know if anyone shot at her again, she’d be okay.
I’m sitting here, trying to rein in my frustration so I don’t walk in with angry energy. Especially when her safety has become one of my greatest priorities. She’s both skittish and ballsy, so I have no idea how to handle her.
But getting a call from one of my men that she left the property alone put me in a mood that festered until I was able to head home, having had to tackle a mountain of work since I took a personal day yesterday.
Emotional fatigue on top of physical fatigue has me leaning my head back with my eyes closed.
Best to get inside and get it over with.
I’m not sure what to expect when I walk in. But it certainly isn’t what I smell. Nor is it what I hear.
Salsa music blares from somewhere in the house, and I feel like I’ve heard this song before, but I can’t quite place it .
I also can’t place what I’m smelling, but it makes my mouth water, and I hear clang of pots and pans from the kitchen.
With my boots now cast aside, I head in that direction and find Taina standing in front of the stove, her inky curls hanging down her back.
Unable to look away, I catch the sway of her hips that force her feet to move in tandem.
With a serving spoon in her hand, she catches the beat as if she’s drumming the air.
Her ass bounces with each movement, and I fight the urge to snatch her up and palm each cheek while I stroke her tongue with mine.
The man singing about not knowing what will happen tomorrow has her following suit, belting along with him in her own sweet little voice.
The same voice that asked me if I was a pussy is singing a salsa song in my kitchen as she cooks.
She dances so well, her feet appearing featherlight as she incorporates her other hand to play aerial percussions. It feels like she’s peeling back her hard exterior and gifting this home with her true self. I’m honored to witness it.
She turns fully, and the moment she notices me, she claps her hand over her chest. Immediately, I hold my own hands out, aiming to soothe her while giving her space.
“Holy fucking shit,” she yells, bracing a hand on the countertop and bending, as if to slow down her heart rate.
I’m glad it isn’t just me then. Different reasons, same reaction.
“You’re happy,” I murmur, wanting to thread my fingers in her soft curls and kiss her plump lips like it’s something we’ve done a million times before.
Honey, I’m home.
While I’m not Ricky Ricardo, Taina does have some explaining to do.
“What are you making?” I ask as I approach her, careful not to crowd her as she straightens and turns off the music playing from her phone. “It smells really good.”
“Thanks,” she mutters, hand still on her heart. “You’re here earlier than I thought you’d be. Thank goodness it’s finished.” She twists the knob on the gas stove, and the fire goes out.
“Well, I actually have someone to come home to now,” I tell her, staring into her eyes. Are her cheeks getting pink, or are my eyes deceiving me?
“I thought you might be hungry, and I was craving carne guisada , so I went and got everything I’d need and…here we are.” She shrugs before placing the serving spoon on the handmade spoon rest Mami brought over from México.
“Thank you.”
We stare at one another, and I’m still uncertain on how to express myself here.
Because I’m not angry at her as much as I’m angry about the potential of her getting hurt.
I’m also pissed that I even have to worry about her protection.
But she has to learn that even though she’s had a mild taste of it, as the daughter of a politician, she’s never known danger like this before.
“Something on your mind?” she asks, backing up until she’s leaning against the sink, her arms folded over her chest.
The defensiveness has already seeped into the energy of this exchange, and I fight to not meet hers with my own.
“Before we discuss, I want to let you know that I’m aware that you’re a grown woman who doesn’t require watching?—”
“Then why are you bringing this up?” she counters, tossing her hands in the air.
I take a beat, keeping my eyes on hers as I do so. And then I continue, maintaining my composure. Because one of us has to.
“I care about you, Taina. I’m offering you a life here with no expectations.
If you choose not to continue with me, I’ll do anything I can to help you gain your independence.
” I pause again, because I want to make sure she fully understands what I’m going to say next.
“But if you are going to continue with me, you have to be safe. Someone tried to kill you already,” I finish, my tone edging on exasperation.
It’s like she doesn’t realize how fragile life is, how much I’ve come to care about what happens to her.
“Yeah, but we don’t know why?—”
“Unless someone is pissed that your dad voted against the latest transportation infrastructure, what other reason would someone have to try to kill you?” My question echoes through the kitchen, and I pinch the bridge of my nose, more mad at myself now that I’m nearly yelling.
She’s silent, and when I look up at her, her lips are pressed together and her hands are bracing the counter behind her. If I didn’t know better, it’d look like she’s fighting the urge to run.
Truly, I just want to hug her, be understood, and then eat the food she cooked for us while I flirt with her until she smiles.
“I just want to keep you safe,” I try, determined to unfuck this conversation.
“It feels like you want to keep me prisoner,” she says, her voice quiet, and even though the words are soft, they hit me in the gut. I’ve spent too much time reassuring her that she can leave and I’ll still help her. What more can I say?
“You’re free to go! But if you’re going to stay—if you’re going to be with me—you’ll need protection.
” I turn to walk out of the kitchen, having given my final word on this.
There’s nothing left for me to say, so I trudge up the stairs and head to my room, prepared to shower.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I ignore it, beginning to unbutton my shirt as I push open my bedroom door.
When I glance at the bed, I’m reminded of what she tastes like, her tart sweetness. The sounds she made come barreling back into my brain, and I exhale through my nose, gathering my things so I can shower.
But when I turn, she’s standing in the doorway. She’s so still, I’m wondering if she’s really there or if my mind is playing tricks on me. But there’s a moment that passes between us; a palpable desire that cuts through my frustration.
“I want you to fuck me,” she says, her hands at her sides. But I notice the slight tremble in them, the quiver in her voice, how utterly small she seems with her shoulders curling in.
“I don’t want to fuck you,” I start, rushing toward her when I see her face fall. “Taina, I want pleasure you in ways you’ve never experienced before. I don’t know what hell your body’s been through, but I’m trying to take it to a place higher than heaven.”
“What if I can’t do that? What if I can’t let go enough to do these things with you?” Her eyes shine with tears, and I’m reminded how much I hate to see them tracking down her face.
The question begs to be asked, but I can’t bring myself to ask it.
What happened to you?
Because once I know, everything will change.
And whoever did it better hope they’re dead.