We meet up to a stand with trinkets, books, and other small things. It’s tucked away in a corner, shelves built into the building beside it. It’s a much bigger space than the other stands have, and there is so much to choose from that giddiness courses through me when we step beneath the tent.
“Have your way, niñita. I’ll be waiting out here. Let me know when you finish so I can pay. I have a phone call to make.” He releases me, and I step forward, smiling a little. “Go,” he insists. “Before I change my mind.”
I playfully roll my eyes. He hates revealing that tender side, but I won’t dwell on it. If it’s what makes him feel good—keeping it only between us—then so be it. I won’t push or budge. Because I like him like this. On my side.
I like this mutual respect.
I like that he is willing to do whatever it takes to make the ones he cares for happy. He may not say that he cares, but I’m a firm believer in showing rather than telling. And he’s shown it a lot so far.
Draco Molina is a lot deeper than I thought. He isn’t the monster I assumed he was. He’s hardcore, tough, brutal—but it’s all for a reason.
And I’m realizing that perhaps he has every right to be the way he is.
He has every right to make everyone call him the boss. He owns who he is and he doesn’t back down. Everyone looks up to him. Men want to be him, the most wanted, most powerful man in the world, whether the rest of the world knows it or not. He defies all laws but his own.
The man I thought was a monster in the dark is everything I never knew I craved. I should get to know him. I should . . . try with him, at least, because he’s trying with me. Daddy saw something in him, and I think I’m seeing it now too.
He can protect me. He can help me. He is slowly but surely trying to heal me and repair the damage he caused. His effort isn’t invisible to me. I notice it, and like a fool, I know I’m taking it for granted.
Because despite all he’s doing, it’s still not enough.
15
I have a lot of dresses to choose from, but tonight I decide to wear something a little more formal. It’s a sleeveless midnight blue cocktail dress with midnight blue heels and gold jewelry to accent. I bought the jewelry from one of the market stands too, along with the gift I have for Mrs. Molina.
My hair was done by Juanita, one of the housemaids who is also the nurse around here. I didn’t know she was good at doing hair, too, but when Draco brought her in and she offered, I let her.
She styles it half up, half down, so that it swims at my shoulders, braided into two French braids at the middle and leading into full, brown waves that cascade down my back.
“I love it.” I smile at her through the mirror. Though I say it in English, she beams, clearly noting that I am more than happy with what she’s done.
She takes off to let me finish getting dressed. Before I know it, there’s a knock at the door, and Draco steps in. When he catches sight of me, his eyes grow round and he stops where he stands.
His eyes travel up and down repeatedly, as if he can’t believe I’m the same woman he had tied up in the shed, or the same woman that almost killed him nearly a week ago.
He looks at me like the name he calls me—reina—and I can’t help myself. I blush. “Is it too much?” I ask, looking down at the points of my heels.
“No.” He steps forward and extends his arm, reaching for my hand. “You look fucking amazing, Gianna.”
My upper lip quirks up. “Is everyone here?”
“Not yet. And that’s a good thing. I want you to come with me to the terrace for a quick drink.”
I nod and hold his hand tighter. He leads the way out of the bedroom and I shut off the lights, my heels clicking as we descend the hall. He keeps straight, going toward the doors that lead out to the terrace.
The sun is sitting on the horizon when we step out, the breeze gentle. It toys with the ends of my hair, ruffling the loose strands of Draco’s.
There is a table covered in white linen in the corner. On top of it is a heavy-bottomed decanter filled with red wine and two wine glasses beside it. Draco lets me walk ahead of him and then he shuts the doors.
“Can’t wait until tonight to drink, huh?” I laugh.
He puts on a small smirk, walking toward the table to pour wine into each one. “Just one glass. In the form of our own celebration.”