Page 30 of When Sinners Hate

I’ve shared my past, giving him a glimpse into life as an Ortega, and he’s shown me the grit and reality of what Cortez has built their empire on. It's filth and misery for any of the girls whoare still in that forsaken place. They're marked for life, so even if they try to escape, they won’t ever be free.

I pick up the French press and pour a second cup of coffee. No sooner than I’ve placed the near–empty press down, one of the many house servants emerges from the shadows to clear, or in this case, replenish.

It’s as if I’m watched, under scrutinising eyes, without even being aware of it much of the time. And over the weeks I’ve been here, I’ve grown used to the way they slither out and back from whatever crevice of this house they’ve been waiting in. Melena doesn’t need to be present with me; her spies will report back to the lady of the house my every move.

By the time I’ve drained another caffeine hit, I’m bored, so I take a little stroll around the house. Refusing to stay in my assigned ‘rooms’, I peruse the main room, or the big room, where I first met my fate.

Cut crystal decanters, a tiffany lamp, all the hallmarks you’d expect to find in a house like this. Except now I know exactly how they paid for all of this splendour. Surprisingly I’ve never had a problem with what my family do for a living. Maybe because I’ve never been included in any of the inner workings of Ortega dealings, I can be naïve about the damage drugs can do to a life, or perhaps, it just isn’t as personal as human trafficking.

“Mother!” I stop still, recognising the voice calling from the hallway. It’s Mariana.

I tread carefully around the outskirts of the room and head for the exit on the other side, listening at every footstep.

“Mother!” She sounds pissed at something, or maybe just at her mother. The memory of them both at the wedding, arguing perhaps, springs back to mind. Leaving the room, I circle back towards the staircase, hoping to catch more of the show, but instead, I run into Melena.

“Good morning,” I offer. I look past her and see Mariana at the end of the hall with a look to rival her mother’s.

“Family business, Alexia.” Melena nods, and with that, a server-come-guard ushers me towards the stairs and up to my suite, sequestering me safely out of earshot. The man even shuts the doors on me.

My eyes look skyward before I count to ten and then try the door. They haven’t been locked so far, but I wouldn’t put it past anyone in the house, especially Melena, or Abel, to keep me locked away if there was something they didn’t want me to hear about.

It opens, and I walk straight back out and immediately hear raised voices. I keep my distance and listen for any words of information to help me better understand what’s causing the issues at the heart of the family. Any crack is an opportunity for me to apply pressure and splinter it further.

Maybe it’s time to get to know my sister-in-law a little better.

My steps are slow and purposeful as I descend the stairs and listen more carefully.

There’s a lot of shouting, and they both switch in and out of Spanish as their tempers flare. Age, interfering, and something about making decisions on her own. I try to keep up and can fill in the blanks that perhaps Mariana isn’t as free as she makes out she is.

I take the opportunity and head down the stairs to intervene.

“Mariana, nice to see you. I was just going to have lunch if you’re interested? Abel seems to have forgotten he has a wife already.” I shrug and smile, hoping she might take me up on my offer.

It’s obvious I’ve interrupted, and Melena’s glare punctuates that observation.

“It’s funny. I thought I made myself clear this was family business,” she seethes.

I turn to her and flick my wedding finger. “You see, it’s funny. I thought I was a Cortez now?”

“You are, Alexia,” Mariana says, smiling.

“You don’t get to speak for this house.” The snap on Melena’s tongue is scolding and reminds me of how I’ve been treated time and time again by my father. “You have a lot to do before we call you real family, girl. Don’t forget that. Now go.” Melena steps in front of Mariana.

I hold her stare before I retreat, but not to my room. Despite the heat I hated when I first arrived, it’s something that offers at least some form of dependability. My view of the gardens and pool is at least appealing, and I don’t feel like I might trash the space at any given moment if I'm there.

I unbutton my dress and lounge in one of the sunbeds, resigned to a boring afternoon.

~

I’m left on my own for the rest of the day, and there are no interruptions of shouts or screams from inside, so my amusement is non-existent. Until Abel’s shadow of a figure blocks my evening sun.

“Husband. How nice of you to make the time. Your car was getting lonely.”

His lack of response is out of character at best. He doesn’t say anything else but heads inside. And I follow.

We end up in the big room, as I like to call it now, and he’s pacing. The crease on his forehead is firmly in place, and he’s certainly not displaying his usual behaviour.

“Your mother declared I’m not part of this family today. I found it quite irritating.”