Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 72969 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72969 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Tonight, Consuelo’s eyes look different.
Kind of sad.
“Are you all right?” I ask her.
“I’m fine, mija,” she says.
On the bed, my phone buzzes.
“No time for that now,” Consuelo says as I eye the phone. “Your papa is waiting.”
In the mirror, I grin. I look like someone who belongs at a party. Not the girl who gets nervous answering questions. Not the girl who sometimes feels like she’s in the way.
“You look beautiful,” Consuelo says.
“Thank you.” I smile into the mirror.
“All right. Now off with you.”
Her eyes are glistening, as if she’s about to cry.
“Are you sure you’re all right?”
She stiffens her face. “I’m absolutely fine. I will always be here for you, Daniela.”
“I know that.”
She kisses my forehead. “Never forget. I may not be able to take care of you at every moment, but I will always be here for you.”
I’m not sure what she’s talking about, but I simply nod. “Thank you, Consuelo.”
“Your papa is waiting downstairs in his office.”
“All right. Thank you for everything.”
I leave my bedroom, race down the stairs to the first floor of our grand mansion. But then I slow my pace. I don’t want to mess up my hair.
I walk to my father’s office and knock.
“Yes?”
“It’s me, Papa. Daniela.”
“Yes, Daniela, please come in.”
I open the door.
Papa sits behind his large desk, and another man sits in one of the chairs facing him. Both of them stand when I enter.
“I thought I was going to a party,” I say.
“Yes, you are,” Papa says.
“When are we leaving?”
Papa smiles, gestures broadly around his office. “The party is here, Daniela. This is a colleague of mine, Señor Hernando Reyes.”
Señor Reyes is young and good-looking—well-built with dark gleaming eyes and a thick shock of black hair.
I nod. “Good evening, Señor.”
“Good evening, Daniela.” He turns to my father. “She is everything you said she would be, Jacinto.”
Papa grins. “Didn’t I tell you?”
Señor Reyes closes the distance between us and reaches for my hand. He brings it to his lips and kisses the back of it.
I widen my eyes slightly.
No man has ever kissed my hand before.
I’m only fifteen. Actually fourteen. My birthday is tomorrow.
“Daniela,” Papa says, “I want you to be good to Señor Reyes. Give him what he asks for.”
Apprehension slices through me.
“What do you mean?”
“The party is a small one,” Papa says. “Only two people attending. You and Señor Reyes.”
“I don’t understand.” My pulse races.
My nerves skitter under my skin. And I feel sick. Like I’m going to vomit all over my father’s office.
I quickly swallow.
“You’re old enough now,” Papa says, “to…contribute to the household.”
“Contribute to the household?” I cross my arms. “You mean by doing chores?”
Why would he need me to do chores? We have enough servants to do everything around here.
“Señor Reyes would like to get to know you better,” Papa says.
Senor Reyes takes my hand, squeezing it. “Come with me, Daniela.”
“Papa!” Fear courses through me.
“Do as you’re told, Daniela.”
Those were the last words I heard from my father before I was forced to my knees.
Before Señor Reyes whispered in my ear, “Suck my cock, bitch, or I’ll fucking kill you.”
I didn’t lose my virginity. That was ripped from me later, by Señor Vega.
But this was the night my life changed forever.
The night my body was no longer my own.
31
HAWK
Seventeen Years Earlier…
I don’t know what I did wrong.
Mom barely looks at me anymore. Not unless I break something or forget to say thank you to one of her friends. Then it’s like I exist all over again, but only in that sharp, annoyed way. Like I’m an interruption she didn’t plan for.
I used to try harder, but none of it mattered. She still sighs when I walk into a room, like I’ve brought too much air with me. Like I’m something she has to tolerate instead of someone she gets to love.
Dad’s not much better. He’s always somewhere else—on a phone call, on a plane, on another continent.
Ted’s the only one who sees me. He’s my dad’s assistant, technically, but I think of him as more like an uncle. My dad hates the earring, says it’s “unprofessional.” When I told Ted, he just laughed and said, “Stars are professional in space, aren’t they?”
Ted remembers stuff. Like how I hate mushrooms but love strawberries. Like how I draw spaceships in the margins of my homework when I’m bored. Like how sometimes I don’t want to talk, just sit and be around someone who won’t make me feel weird for being quiet. He also gets me. He doesn’t just say “life isn’t fair” when I go on about something that I think is wrong.
He doesn’t tell me to toughen up when I get upset. He doesn’t roll his eyes or say, “You’re too sensitive.” He just listens. And when I told him once that I didn’t think my mom liked me very much, he didn’t try to argue or fix it. He just said, “That’s not your fault.”