8. Maricela
I was competitive even as a child.
Losing a game was unimaginable. Even my father couldn’t take away from me the desire to win in everything I did.
This persistent desire to win and get what I want makes me impulsive. It hasn’t changed over the years, either. This is one of my biggest faults.
My impulsiveness leads to mistakes. I have always believed that every decision I made was for the best.
Like eating a piece of cake even though I knew the beatings would come and I’d probably throw it up. At least I knew what it tasted like.
Challenging a bunch of boys at school because they made fun of my hair? At least they didn’t think I was a coward.
Letting my sister marry a mafia man? At least she would be protected for the rest of her life, and nothing bad would happen to her.
And I already know the words I just impulsively tossed out were also a mistake. I try to convince myself that it wasn’t one. That I’ll give these two kids a better world, one without bloodshed and violence. But that’s a lie, and I know it. I know I can’t promise them anything.
Yes, I have money.
Maverick has paid me well, and I’ve spent little of it. But even if I could provide for them without financial worry, I can’t promise them a safe life because the world isn’t safe. I know that better than most.
I never knew how to move the pieces on the board the right way. Despite life’s attempts to teach me valuable lessons, I always end up losing.
Yet, the fact that I’ll take them from a definite future marked by blood convinces me it’s the right choice.
The reason I want them is completely selfish. My heart is beating again because of these two children. They gave me back the will to live. The will to protect them. To be there for them.
But I know I won’t be able to achieve it, now more than ever, because I made another drastic mistake.
My impulsiveness caused me to demand what I didn’t deserve, and that gave him power. And the man who now stands above me—as only he knows how to do—will use my desire to have them against me.
“The kids, huh?” he says in that voice I don’t recognize yet know too well.
Something changed in him. This man had always been godlike, even as a teenager.
I almost can feel him running after me the day I surrendered my body and soul to him, to my bully.
My relationship with Killian was volatile because we both were like two flames from different worlds, never meant to collide.
Now, we’ve changed. His flame got bigger, stronger, and harsher while mine is gone altogether. He took life by the balls and became this untouchable man who oozes power from every fiber of his flesh.
Just like Ares, Killian accepted his role and became the best. His father is ill. Ronen gloated about it once. I assume, with the goal of giving me divine justice. It didn’t. The damage was already done.
“Give me one fucking good reason to give them to you, Little Ghost.”
Ghost. How fitting.
I try not to hide my reaction to his tone. It’s useless.
“Don’t swear around them.”
I dare to look at him while I’m chastising him for daring to speak like that in front of two kids.
Another fucking mistake.
Fuck.
The man in front of me is much more than a near god. Ares and even Zeus themselves would bow under his power.
He become bigger and stronger since I last saw him. His hair is no longer disheveled, but where it was always lush and thick, his recent cut gives him elegance. The man in front of me apparently doesn’t hate barbers or hairdressers anymore. How much has changed in four years?
“Still like what you see, Little Ghost?” he taunts as if nothing has changed.
“They’ll be far from a world of monsters,” I say in answer to his first question with the steadiest voice I can master.
“Is that what you think of me?”
I ignore the blue storm that tries to consume me.
“Well, You’re not wrong, Little Ghost. I am a monster. If you still recall, I’m the monster who gets what he wants.”
“And what do you want?”
“I want you on your knees, begging for my cock, choking on it until I decide I’ve had enough, and maybe then I’ll give you what you want.”
Ronen opens his mouth as if to argue, only to think better of it. What he planned to say, I don’t know, but I won’t allow it.
“You won’t get what you want,” I reply, full of false conviction. Foolish, as always.
He stands there with no emotion whatsoever, and I add, “I don’t care for you anymore.”
A lie.
“I want the kids.”
A truth.
“And another thing I want is the truth,” he says as if reading my mind. “Where have you been? Why did you leave? The Maricela I know wouldn’t run away because of a video some bitch showed her.”
“A bitch you’re still with if what Juli has told me is true.”
“Are you jealous, Little Girl?”
“The little girl you knew has been wiped out. You were right about calling me a ghost. That’s all I am now.”
“And why is that, Maricela?”
“None of your fu—” I stop myself the second I feel the tiny inhale of breath on my chest. “Freaking business.” He smiles.
Fuck. Those smiles were never good for me.
Something I don’t want to admit stirs my chest. A pang of hope from the child that still lives in me. The one that never died, despite what I did.
“We’re going to do the next thing, Little Ghost.”
I’m a ghost. A shell of a person.
“In order to have the kids with you, you’ll need to do whatever I say. Each word out of my mouth will be an order that you will obey. Do I make myself fucking clear?”
I just nod.
“Good. Now we’ll take care of the kids and their needs, and so help me God or any deity out there, if you even think about escaping, I will put a truck in your asshole.”
“The only place you didn’t get to touch?” I can also play this game. Ronen chokes from his place on the chair beside me.
“I’ll see to that as well. Prepare yourself to move in with me as soon as the kids are released from the hospital.”
“I’m not going to live in the same place my sister was murdered.” I hope this excuse will fly.
“I don’t live there anymore. You and the kids will move into my penthouse.”
“Really?” Connie asks abruptly, her blue eyes so similar and yet so different from her uncle’s.
The color is the same, but the innocence in the young eyes remains. Her mother’s death has damaged parts of her, but her age will work in her favor if she’s kept from the evil of the world. She won’t be, though. Of course, she won’t be.
“All right. I’ll stay with you if you want. With you and your brother.” I ignore him.
Refuse to look at him, even though I can feel how he comes closer with the excuse of going to Connie.
The mint scent that I was so used to is stronger than it is now, richer with notes of cardamon, leather, and a hint of tobacco added. In all these four years, no matter what environment I was in, I never smelled anything like the scent of his skin and the luxurious cologne he used.
“Can Uncle Maddox live with us, too? He’s funny, and he loves me.”
“Your Uncle Maddox has his own floor, but you can see him every day if you’d like.”
The girl’s gaze shifts momentarily to the uncle in front of her. I don’t know what she sees there, but she doesn’t seem to be satisfied by his answer.
“What about Nonna Bella? She’s petty.” The mention of Isabella makes my hands shake, which results in Amado waking up.
“Did you mean to say pretty?” Killian asks.
Connie nods, and I can’t hide my satisfaction. Even if I don’t get to play a part in their lives, they’ll be just fine with him. I can see that now.
“Uncle Liam and Uncle Killian always fix my words,” she grumbles.
“We correct you,” Killian says, correcting her once again.
“I speak good?” She looks at me for a reaction, so I nod.
“You see? You’re just bad, but not like Daddy. Daddy is really bad. Daddy... He... He’s a bad dad...”
One tear rolls down her cheek, and as if that’s all she’s been waiting for, the girl sobs again in a voice that echoes and gets her little brother crying, too.
“Connie. Little Angel... Do you want me to sing you another song?” I try to speak softly but loud enough for her to hear me over their cries.
“You know, when I was little, your mother used to sing me songs.”
It’s a lie because I’m the one who used to sing all the time. The singing soothed me while Serena tended to my wounds.
“Mommy can’t sing.” Present time.
How do you explain to a four-year-old what death is? There will be time to talk about her mother’s death, so I start singing a lullaby that I heard when I was in Colombia.
Sleep, my baby. Have no fear. Auntie is going to find you a nightingale.
If the singing doesn’t sound pleasurable to you, I’ll buy you a singing toy.
And if the singing toy doesn’t sound right, Auntie will rock you in her hands all night long.
Amado calms down, clutches my messy curls in his tiny fists, and tries to say something, although it’s incoherent. I continue to sing until Connie’s strong crying also turns into little whimpers.
“Daddy did something bad,” she whispers, as if to herself.
“He did,” I whisper back.
Lies will not help in this situation. I have seen all the stages of grief. I have experienced them more than once. She needs to accept that her parents are no longer with her.
“And she won’t come back to me again.”
“No, she won’t.”
“But you’ll be with us?” This one comes out as a question.
“Me and all your uncles who love you very much.” A small nod is all we get before she cuddles her hands against her chest and closes her eyes as if to fall asleep again.
“Is it okay for her to sleep so much?” Ronen asks after what feels like an eternity.
“Grief is exhausting,” I explain.
“Do you agree to my conditions?” he asks again, more softly than before.
I sigh. “What are they?”
“Sell yourself to me, and you can stay. Refuse, and I’ll hold you by force. Choose wisely.”
“Amado should probably eat soon. Do you know if Serena breastfed him? If so, that could be a problem.”
“Little Ghost, don’t ignore me.”
“Did Serena breastfeed Amado?” I ask again, louder this time. I remember her not being able to breastfeed Connie because she had no milk.
Ronen says, “Babe, he must have started eating solids by now. He has front teeth, doesn’t he?” I pinch the boy’s lips softly, which brings on a smile and see two little teeth peeking at me. “We should ask one of the nurses or maybe a doctor.”
“Maricela.” A warning. A threat.
“I’ll go call them. Can you stay with Connie for a moment?”
“Sure?” Ronen doesn’t sound sure.
I get up, intending to leave the room, only to be stopped when a big hand covers mine, reminding me of my size. He could crush me.
He would never hurt you, a voice in my head argues.
He did,I argue back. His scent envelops me. Almost instantly, I hear a monster laughing maniacally in my head.
“You will never forget my touch. I’ve destroyed you. I ruined your cunt. I trampled on your life and your body. Shout louder, slut!”
“Maricela. Little Girl.”
“Don’t call me that. Don’t touch me. You have no right. You never did,” I shout and quickly leave the room, leaving him behind.