naturally tanned skin, big hickory-colored brown eyes, and a smile that could call the devil forth anytime she wants. Her shiny black hair is tucked behind her ears, while the rest is held neatly in place by a silver clip.
All of the beauty that I could ever imagine in the world hides underneath her black slacks and white dress shirt. The curves of her body are a temptation that the same devil she calls forth wouldn’t be able to resist.
“Señorita,” she says, a smirk creasing her lips as she tears her eyes away from me. I stand next to Papa, watching as she makes a show of swaying her hips on the way to serve another guest.
Sighing, I drink down my champagne in one gulp, then loop my arm through my father’s, resting my head on his shoulder.
I’ll have to talk to Anabella about Magdalena but not in the way I would hope. Instead of telling her that I would love to know what her daughter’s cunt tastes like, I’ll find a way to get her mother to chastise her for her blatant display of sexuality at such an inappropriate time, and maybe she’ll send her away.
But not so far that I won’t be able to find her one day.
I just know that for now, it’ll be easier to focus on what my life should be instead of what I wish it was.
Chapter Three
Somewhere above me, Mateo is slowly rotting while I speak to El Alcalde’s son. He’s told me that his name is Pablo Morales and that he’s “enchanted” to finally meet Papa’s daughters.
But if that were true, then Tati would be in this little semi-circle conversation as well, closing the gap instead of leaving open an empty spot.
Where the fuck is Tati?
The thought sinks into my mind now more than ever as I scan the crowd again, and she’s nowhere to be found. I only hope that wherever she is, she’s staying out of fucking trouble.
Embarrassing Papa is a no go, and if I can’t see her, I can’t get her out of any fucking mess she may be getting into.
“Well, it was nice to meet you, Pablo,” I tell him distractedly as I turn to walk away. He claps a hand around my forearm, and I look back at him, arching an eyebrow. I don’t like it when people touch me unless it’s invited, but the sharp look I’m giving him doesn’t seem to deter his intentions any.
“Leaving already? I’ve only told you my name so far,” he says with a chuckle.
“Oh.”
I blanch at coming to the realization that standing here with him seemed like hours instead of mere minutes.
I clear my throat and force a smile onto my face as I reach for another glass that floats by on a silver tray. I decide to give Pablo my undivided attention after he lets go of my arm because it seems like the personable thing to do.
Allowing my eyes to come into focus, I arch an eyebrow without meaning to. Pablo is actually a very good-looking young man. I gather that he’s somewhere in his late twenties, near thirties. His light brown hair is kept shorn closely, and the small gold chain around his neck that drops into a cross just in the middle of his chest sets off the color of his skin.
His eyes, like most of the guests here, are brown but not too dark. They look like small pools of chocolate ready to be made into solid candy bars. While his face is cleanly shaven, I can see the shadow of hair that’s creeping slowly to the surface. His body is lean, and I’m sure pleasant to behold, but the cockiness he holds himself with is the only thing that speaks to me.
Just once, I’d like to meet someone with blue eyes; it must be so different and beautiful to see, I think wistfully as I take a step away from him.
“I’m sorry, please continue,” I say as brightly as I can. But the force of faking happiness that I’m using right now is starting to make my cheeks hurt, and I’m becoming a little worried that he’ll notice.
I fold an arm across myself as I take another sip of my champagne while he begins to drone on about the privileges he has being the son of the mayor, all of the things he’s been able to do alongside his father to help the community, and how seeing the smiling faces of the citizens