Page 56 of Violent Attraction

“Años. I think the last time we did this was when Camila was still running around.”

Sounds about right and given that Camila is about to turn nineteen, it’s been almost ten years.

“I’ve missed it.” This time the smile that I give him is one that reaches my eyes.

I guess a part of me misses being the small little girl that looked up to her father.

Do I still look up to him?

Sure, but I just wish he lived life definitely and wasn’t so obsessed with being the most feared man alive. Maybe then we would have an actual father-daughter relationship and I wouldn’t feel like a transaction.

Ronaldo just nods and continues to walk us through the garden.

“What’s on your mind, Isabella?” my father asks as we walk deeper through the path.

“Nothing,” I say a little bit too quickly and when I hear a small scuff coming from his throat, I know that he doesn’t believe me.

“Dime la verdad.” Tell me the truth. I guess it’s time to have this conversation.

I take my gaze away from the man next to me and speak. “I don’t want to marry Emilio Castro.”

The words leave my mouth, and it feels like the pressure that was sitting on my chest finally elevated a little bit.

But that pressure returns when my father stops walking and somehow turns me to face him.

Anger swims through his eyes. His mouth is in a tight line and the hand that I had through the crook of his elbow is being tightly held by his.

“Are you trying to embarrass me?” He says through his teeth and if I could step back from him, I would.

I start to shake my head. “No, papá.”

There’s more that I want to say but I don’t.

“Then what? I made a deal with the Castro’s. Ah la chingada, I will not be going back on my word.”

His grip on me grows tighter, a lot more than how he held me when he broke the news of this deal. This grip is at the point of pain, and it has me cowering under my father.

“I don’t want this,” I try to start but the words are cut off when the grip he has on my hand is moved to my upper arm.

My father holds both my upper arms in his hands, almost shaking me, trying to knock sense into me.

“No mi importa. I don’t give a shit what you want or don’t want. You will marry Emilio. You will marry him, fuck him, be the perfect housewife to him, and give him however many babies he wants. You will do that for this family. You will do that for me, for this cartel. Because without this cartel you would have nothing. It’s time to show how grateful you are for this life that I gave you.”

Grateful.

How can I be grateful for a life that I want nothing to do with? A life that I wish with everything in me never existed.

His grip on my arms tightens even more. I can feel his fingernails penetrating through the fabric of my shirt and hitting my skin.

“Papí. Por favor.” I feel tears start to run down my cheeks. “Please don’t make me marry him. Please!”

He lets me go and takes a step back but only for a second. I watch as my only living parent takes a step forward, swings a hand back and strikes me on my cheek.

I feel a pain, one a lot stronger than his nails digging into me, radiating from my jaw all the way to my temple.

The tears that were rolling down my cheek a few seconds ago are coming down a lot more freely as I cradle my aching face.

He hit me.