Chapter 6 Angel
Angel
Once the papers were completely signed and filed, I led Emma back to the car. This time, she kept her arm in mine as we crossed the street back to where Omar had parked the Range Rover. She was quiet now, almost deflated in a way, but I knew that she wasn’t tamed.
Resigned, maybe, but not tamed.
I opened the door for her myself, and she climbed into the backseat without a look back over her shoulder. This may just work, I thought as I went around to the other side of the car. “What happened in there?” Lili asked, standing with her hand on the passenger door handle.
I glared at her. “I got married,” I said as if she were slow. “You did sign on the witness line, you know.”
She wanted to hit me, I could tell, and I grinned at her. “That was a hell of a kiss,” she said.
It was, but there was no way in hell that I was going to tell her that. Or anyone else, for that matter. “It was nothing,” I told her.
My sister scoffed. “A pretty intense nothing.”
“Cierra la boca,” I hissed at her and opened the backdoor. Emma immediately turned to look at me as I slid in beside her. “We’ll be heading back to the estate now,” I told her, “and I’ll present you to my father.”
Emma visibly shuddered. I couldn’t blame her for the reaction, but I had to make her understand what she was walking into. “You can’t show your fear,” I said. “When you meet him, stay calm, and if he speaks to you directly, you can answer him, but otherwise —”
“I should just keep my mouth shut?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at me.
I stared at her, deadpan. “Exactly,” I said, keeping my tone icy. “You’re my wife now. There will be expectations about your behavior.” She swallowed hard, looking a little gray. “Whatever you’re feeling, swallow it. You can’t meet Padre sobbing.”
Tears immediately welled in her eyes, as if it was in her very biology to defy me, but she didn’t weep. “If your father doesn’t like me, will I be killed?” she asked. Her voice was barely a whisper.
That dark thing that had awoken in my chest when we kissed snarled. No one was going to take her from me. No one touched what was mine. I would tear them to shreds if they tried. “You’re under my protection now,” I assured her. “To harm you would be an act of war.”
She made a distressed sound. “Even your father?”
“Padre has his honor,” Omar said from the front seat. “No one does lasting damage to the spouse of another.”
A bubble of near-hysterical laughter sprang from her throat. “Lasting damage,” she said mockingly.
I reached out and put my finger under her chin, forcing her to look at me.
“No one will touch you,” I declared gently.
The except me, went unsaid. Emma nodded, and she was quiet after that.
I tried to look out the window, to allow the scenery to distract me, but my eyes kept dragging back to her. Mi esposa.
Yesterday, the thought of a wife set my teeth on edge, and a large part of me still resented my father for forcing me into it. But looking at Emma? I wanted more of that taste. I wanted to know what she looked like spread across my bed.
My thoughts were interrupted when we passed the security booth and entered the estate. “Padre is in his office,” Lili said, looking at a message on her phone. “He’s expecting you.”
The Rover came to a stop, and I opened my door and climbed out. Emma was stock still in her seat; she didn’t make a move to open her own door. I reached for her hand. “Come,” I said.
She stared at me, afraid, for a moment, and then I watched the wall come down on her expression. It was just like before when I snapped at her for smiling: she schooled her face into something more neutral. Then, she put her hand in mine and let me draw her out of the car.
We walked into the house with her arm in mine. The distance between the door and my father’s office felt like a death march, but despite the grip that Emma had on my arm, her face was calm and collected.
My father was seated at his desk, looking through some document or other but clearly waiting on us. “Padre,” I said. “May I introduce my wife, Emma Castillo.” I looked at her. “Emma, this is my father, Gustavo Castillo, the head of our family.”
“You may call me ‘Padre,’” he said. “You’re my daughter now, after all.”
Emma jerked at that, and I tightened my grip on her arm, stilling her. Padre rose from his chair and came around his desk. “It’s nice to meet you, sir,” she managed to say with a steady voice.
Padre smiled, and for a moment, he played the part of the jovial father-in-law.
“She’s prettier than you let on, mijo,” he said silkily.
“Maybe you’ll get more out of this than I thought.
” The words dropped into my belly like lead.
He stepped closer to us, and he reached out to her.
I knew what he was going to do: he was going to grab her chin, study her like she was one of his horses or hounds.
Something hot boiled in my gut, and I yanked Emma behind me, just out of his reach.
No one was going to touch her. She belonged to me now.
Padre dropped his hand, and while his smile didn’t change, there was a dangerous glint in his eyes.
He didn’t like being denied. “Welcome to the family, mija,” he said, eyes on Emma.
She was quiet for a moment, and then she said, “Thank you, sir.” Her voice quavered just a little.
My father laughed. “Such a timid one, you’ve got here,” he said. “Come, let’s toast.” Padre motioned to the sideboard where he had chilled rum and some shot glasses. He made his way over and started pouring out the shots.
I went to take a step, but Emma seemed to be rooted to the floor. “What?” I hissed at her.
“Can I pass on the shot?” she asked, voice barely audible.
“No.”
Her face twisted with worry, but when I pulled her along to the sidebar, she came this time. My father handed us each a shot glass. “?Por los novios!” Padre announced and clinked his glass first into mine and then into Emma’s.
I slugged the shot back in one motion; Padre did the same. When Emma tipped her head back, she started choking immediately and nearly dropped the shot glass clutched in her hand. “Sorry,” she said, wiping at her mouth. It smeared the lipstick that she had put on. Fucking pathetic, really.
As the future matriarch of the family, Emma was going to need to be a proper host. She’d need to be able to toast and keep a smile on her face and not choke up the expensive liquor like it was some well variety at a bar.
I sneered but took the handkerchief from my pocket and handed it to her. “Wipe your face,” I told her, pointing to a mirror on the wall. “You look ridiculous.”
She took the piece of silk from me. Her eyes were alight with anger, but she turned and went to fix her face instead of saying anything. Maybe she can learn, I thought. “You do have your marriage license, yes?” Padre asked, pulling my focus back to him.
I reached into the inner pocket of my jacket and pulled out the tri-folded document. “Omar and Lili were our witnesses,” I said and handed it to him.
My father opened it and read over the license before handing it back to me.
He patted my face; it was his own brand of rough affection.
He snapped his fingers at Emma. “Two more shots, mija,” he said dismissively and wrapped an arm around my shoulders so that he could steer me toward his desk. “We need to discuss recruitment.”
“Padre —” We shouldn’t talk about business in front of Emma. “Maybe this isn’t the time.”
Emma put two refilled shot glasses in front of us and stepped back. “Is there anything else I can do for you?” she asked, and I could hear the strain in her voice.
My father stared at her with a shark’s gaze, and I realized that this was a test. Though, whether he wanted to push her boundaries or mine, I couldn’t tell. “Can you cook?” he asked.
“I can follow a recipe pretty well,” Emma said.
Padre looked at me, clearly unimpressed. “You let your wife be this glib with me?”
Her eyes went round. “I wasn’t —”
“Emma,” I cut her off. It was a test for both of us, then. “Apologize. Now.”
“But —” I glared at her, and she took a breath and centered herself. “I’m sorry,” she said, looking at my father. “I didn’t mean to be glib. I was trying to be honest. I am not a natural cook, but I can replicate a recipe fairly well.”
It was a good answer: my father valued the truth and couldn’t abide sarcasm. But his interest in her was waning. “At least my son won’t starve,” he said.
As if Emma would be tasked with making meals, I thought.
Lara had been handling all of the family’s meals for years.
Before her death, my mother had dominated in the kitchen, but it had been her place of refuge from everything.
It certainly hadn’t been any sense of duty as the Castillo matriarch.
“I’ll take care of your son, Padre,” Emma said gently.
She very nearly sounded sincere. What the hell?
My father’s eyes practically glittered at that, and I felt my lip curl. I didn’t like the way he looked at her. “See that you do, mija. See that you do.” His eyes cut to me. “I’m tasking you with replacing the men that you lost. I’m giving you a month.”
It wasn’t enough time to properly vet new people, and he knew it. Omar would have a fit, and I would be blamed when they didn’t meet Padre’s standards. “Of course, Padre,” I said.
“Your cousin Manny might be ready to take on some jobs as well.”
My hands curled into fists. Manny was fourteen: he’d never kissed a girl before, let alone held a gun. “I thought we were waiting until Manny was finished with high school before we gave him a job.”
Padre scoffed. “What does he need high school for?”
“I use my degree to run our clubs, don’t I? Wouldn’t Manny do well in a manager’s role?”
“You sound like his mother,” Padre sneered, which translated into that I sounded like a woman, soft.
I caught movement out of the corner of my eye and realized that Emma was still standing there.
Goddamnit, I thought. This wasn’t the kind of discussion to have in front of her.
“You’ll give Manny a job,” he said. “Something he can do after school. To make the women in his life happy.”
I forced myself to take a breath. And then another. He would be dead soon. The thought had become a touchstone. “Of course, Padre,” I repeated. “Can I show Emma the estate now? She’s been staying in one of the east wing rooms, and she’ll need to know the lay of the land.”
My father waved us off. “Fine. I’ll speak with you in the morning about this. You can tell me your recruiting ideas.”
“Thank you, Padre.” I glanced at Emma. “Ready?”
She gave a slight tilt of the head, and we headed out of the room.
As the heavy oak door closed behind us, she murmured, “You’re not really going to drag your cousin into this, are you?
” The anger that I had been holding back clawed at my insides.
I stopped walking, and she ran into my back. “Angel —?”
I turned and grabbed her by the throat, notching my fingers beneath her jaw, and forced her against the nearest wall. I felt more than heard her gasp. “Keep out of my fucking business,” I told her, voice flat. “No one wants your opinions.”
Emma, with her wide, infuriating eyes, bit her lip. It took her two tries to choke out, “If I’m going to be this family’s matriarch, shouldn’t I have some kind of opinion? Even if my husband is the only one who hears it?”
Fuck. A word should not set my nerve endings on edge. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d wanted to fuck someone so badly. You just haven’t gotten your dick wet in a while.
But that didn’t explain why I could still feel the tingle of her mouth on mine. I let her go. “Don’t push it,” I said, “or you’ll find yourself over my knee.” She let out a surprised squeak, and that was it, I was done waiting. “Come on. I’ll show you to our room.”
Emma blinked. “Our room?”