Page 44 of When Sinners Hate
“I’ve worked with Carmen for a long time.”
“And she looks at me like I’m shit. Time to show me you meant what you said in that room, Abel.”
He starts the engine and races out onto the road, chuckling about whatever crap he's got going around in his head. “Not so quiet out here in the open.”
“I’m sorry, I’m confused. You didn’t want me docile and demure, or was that just a play again?” He doesn’t answer, so I sit and simmer.
My emotions are raw, and I’m still caught between the fear of what he threatened me with and how we left that room. He showed me my past – my humiliations – but also reminded me of what has given me strength, all in that room. He’s taken everything we’ve done, everything we’ve said to each other, and stripped it back. He knew what I was trying to prove – trying to do. Why wouldn’t he think there’s a plot against his family? Theykilled my brother in cold blood, yet my father still does this to me. He marries me off like a pawn in his game that he can’t even win because he’s such a short-sighted, greedy man. A man who doesn’t value anything apart from his own status, the dollars in his bank, and what power he can buy for himself.
I grumble to myself, angry and confused. That’s not what Abel values, is it? That’s not what he’s shown me. Although I’d be lying if I said I understood him. He’s a contradiction in many ways, and that he’s offering me this opportunity is still proof of that.
“Where are we going?” I ask, ready to get out of my head.
“Home.”
“We’ve been through this already. I’m a little tired to be playing any more games.”
He doesn’t answer and keeps his hands on the wheel. My eyes feel sore and sting as I close them, resting them every few minutes. There’s a wave of emotion trapped inside me that I kept to myself all through our little show. Angry, sad, vengeful tears. It rises up and falls back, like the waves lapping at the sand, and when I close my eyes, it rushes forward like the tide’s ready to charge.
Focussing on anything other than that feeling – the threat of tears and what they will mean – I stare out the window and watch as we pass through San Antonio. Although I’m not familiar with the city, I recognise enough to know we’re not heading back to the mansion in Terrell Hills.
My heart skips, and I realise I’m excited to be going back to Abel’s home. Finally, after months of being locked out, he’s letting me in. And, of course, I hate that I’m both excited and now confused about that. After everything I’ve promised myself over the years, this man has annihilated everything I’ve tried to build and is making me question it all. I’ve sacrificed for my family – for the Ortega family – yet have I ever been a part of it?I knew my doubts before Abel shackled me to them, but because of that, I have a black hole in my mind, growing with every moment about what family actually means to me.
My husband killed for his family and went to prison. He’s a defender and keeper of the family name and everyone who holds it, even if they aren’t technically all Cortezes. That would have been his downfall – the weakness I’ve been searching for to make Ortega’s revenge hurt the most. But why am I doing that? And why is the possibility of being let in by him – by his family – making me feel like a stupid teenager just picked to go to Prom by the Homecoming King? I pick my date – I make the Homecoming King. What the hell has happened?
Fuck.
We’re silent until he pulls up towards what I assume might be a house. I can’t see past the entrance and walls surrounding it, but the car's lights illuminate a wooden gate. A few seconds later, it begins to roll to the side, revealing the driveway and, beyond it, a house. He drives through the magically opening gate and follows the driveway around, past the house and down a slight incline, straight into an underground garage. Lights spring to life as soon as we’re inside, flickering as he passes two other cars parked up and swings the Challenger into the free spot.
“Quite the collection,” I murmur, mostly to myself.
We exit the car, and he takes my hand, walking me back to the garage entrance. He places his thumb on a pad and the door, like the gate, rolls into place, locking the toys inside. He leads me along a path back towards the entrance of the house. Small lights recessed into the concrete light our way. Polished concrete steps lead up to the front door, and he places his hand on another pad to open it.
The door size makes me think it must be reinforced, and just before we step over the threshold, I bend to removemy shoes. I throw them out into the driveway, watching them tumble and toss over each other.
“Didn't like them?”
“I don’t want her shoes here.” It’s a stupid thing, but it’s taken a lot to be invited to see where he lives, and I feel like I’ve earned that tonight. I don’t want to share that with anybody. Even her shoes.
The polished concrete extends inside to a reception hall floor, and the grey walls give an immediate dark and cold feel. Low lights begin to glow, but they don’t light up the space. It's more like they give you enough atmosphere to appreciate the area as it opens to you. There’s a glass barrier a few meters in front of us, with stairs leading down to one side and a corridor in the other direction adjacent to the barrier. Beyond that, a sitting space with more glass.
He doesn’t move very fast, giving me time to take in the space around me. I’m itching to explore, searching for any indication that might help me unlock the puzzle of my husband. But I’m also still reeling from what happened tonight.
“I’d like a shower.”
He puts out his arm and walks towards the corridor. We move, and I realise my feet are warm, despite walking on what looks and feels like concrete. I peer over the glass to see steps leading down into a big, shadowy room, and, as he opens the door at the end for me, I find more of the same: Greys, shadows and hard edges. The lights increase in intensity as he enters, and I watch as he unbuttons his shirt and takes it off, draping it on a chair before releasing his belt. That move, the sound as it pulls through his pants, sends me straight back to the room. Bound and vulnerable.
“No. I want to wash and clean up alone. You owe me that, Abel.”
“Owe you?”
“Yeah.”
His head tilts to the side as he scrutinises me.
“You can find me some clothes while I’m in there. Through here?” I point back to the only place for the en suite.
“Go ahead.”