I stare at him, open-mouthed and grappling with what I’ve just heard. His aversion to having children is a sharp contradiction to what I’ve come to understand about this world of criminals and conmen. Family structure is a part of their hierarchy, and his men take being husbands and fathers as seriously as they do being soldiers. I can’t help but wonder why Diego feels this way, and why he would refer to his own mother as a ruthless bitch. She must have really done a number on him.
It doesn’t matter. I don’t want to have children with him anyway; they would be just another thing binding us together and making it harder for me to escape. I should be thankful, not curious.
“Okay. I can agree with that.”
Diego looks relieved. Offering me a hand, he pulls me to my feet and steps close. He smells fresh from the shower and his face is scraped clean of stubble. I feel filthy in comparison and know my hair is a mess, but he’s looking at me like I’m perfection itself.
Cupping my cheek, Diego kisses me. It’s long and slow and almost sweet. I can feel the restraint he’s exercising, his body practically vibrating with the beast he let out of the cage last night. Part of me is reassured, and part of me wonders when I might confront that beast again. I shiver, swaying into him as he breaks the kiss.
“I don’t want us to be constantly at war, gatita. I want to try to make you happy. Will you let me?”
I force a smile, even though I feel sick to my stomach. There’s something inside of me that warms at his promise, that yearns for more of this tenderness and sweetness from him. The last bit of resistance I have left pushes back against that feeling, reminding me of the horrible things this man has done, both to me and to others.
“Yes,” I whisper, my voice hoarse. What else can I say? I have agreed to yet another form of attachment to Diego and have no choice but to go along with whatever he asks of me. I can only hope that in the end he won’t consume all of me. There might be nothing left for me to escape with.
“Good,” he says, giving me another quick kiss before stepping away. “Now, relax for the day. The salve I used on you last night is in the bathroom. Keep applying it a few times a day until you feel better. Your dress fitting will finish tomorrow, and I’m booking a spa day for you the day before the wedding.”
Without waiting for me to agree—because, really, why would he?—Diego leaves the room without a look back. The door doesn’t lock behind him, but it might as well have. The second I step foot outside this room, all eyes will be on me I’m sure Diego has his men on high alert after last night. My chances of escape keep getting narrower, leaving me with fewer and fewer options.
As I sink onto the bed and bury my face in my hands, I wonder if I’m deluding myself into thinking freedom is even possible anymore. Diego is determined to keep me, and God help me, there are parts of me that want to let him.
22
Elena
My wedding day arrives far too quickly, but there’s no escaping it. I spend the days leading up it preparing myself both mentally and physically. I choose flower arrangements and add a handful of my friends and family to the reception seating chart. The day Diego and I came to our understanding, he let me use his laptop to send emails to the people of my choice, inviting them to the last-minute wedding. My inbox was flooded with shocked questions, and the only way to put them to rest was to insist that a whirlwind romance was responsible. Apparently, my insistence that Diego and I are madly in love worked. All my invitations were met with confirmations of attendance, assuring I won’t have to stare at a crowd full of strangers when I walk down the aisle.
The fitting for my dress finishes two days before the ceremony, and it fits like a dream. It’s more modest than I had previously envisioned for my wedding, but the ceremony will be traditionally Catholic so I thought it best to keep things simple. Besides, it isn’t as if this is my dream wedding. Diego isn’t the groom of my fantasies. This new