Corrupt - Elena M. Reyes Page 0,31

looking at me, but her eyes are miles away. At this moment she truly looks her age, young and impressionable. Sheltered and suffocating. “It was amazing to just be another kid in a crowd. To take goofy pictures and eat junk food and laugh with my parents as we rode every single attraction in the park. There were no crowds crowding or men in polyester suits trying to get my father’s attention or approval. For the first and only time in my life, we were just an average family on vacation.”

And as the last word slips past her perfect lips, the truth hits me in the chest. There’s more than lust and want and revenge singing in my veins. There’s an uncontrollable need to protect and take care of her.

To give her back what’s been taken.

I’m going to give this precious girl her freedom.

I’m going to make her crave me as I do her.

12

ONE, TWO, THREE.

One, two, three.

The instructor claps her hands with each count, signaling the three couples on the floor to start the rehearsed steps to a simple salsa choreography. And while they do so, while I play the part of the audience this afternoon, my mind lingers on my phone call with Alejandro last night.

I don’t know how he knew I needed him, but I’m more thankful for that call than he’ll ever know. Heartbroken and full of painful anxiety that made it hard to breathe, I’d been cursing my name when the phone rang.

He made me forget.

He made me laugh.

He cared.

“Again, from the top.” The instructor’s eyes cut to the couple near the back mirror and sighs. “Please try to keep up. This isn’t a club downtown or for giggles; dancing is an art and should be respected as such.”

Beside me someone snickers, but I pay them no mind and try to refocus on the class.

These are new students. People of affluent wealth. Most are stiff as a board.

However, there’s one dancer that stands out—the son of a world-renowned surgeon who’s come to Colombia to participate in a medical exchange program before opening his practice in Uruguay.

I know this because it’s the first thing he shared with the class, pompous smile on his face. His eyes have also been searching mine out for the past twenty minutes, a tinge of frustration seeping through when I rebuff him.

I’m ignoring him. He’s annoyed. It’s a game I’ve learned to excel at with the unwanted attention that comes from my position as the first daughter.

“Very good, Gabriel. That’s exactly how you feel the music.” She looks pensive for a moment, her feet still moving to the beat. “I’d like to see you dance with a more advanced student. Solimar?”

“Yes, Señora Garcia?” I answer, a feeling of dread settling in. More so when Gabriel’s face gives a smug expression. He knows who I am. My family. “How can I be of assistance?”

“Come here and take your place with Mr. Castillo. I want to see what he can do given free reign.”

“Of course.” My smile is fake, but so perfected over the years that they can’t tell the difference. That, or they don’t care. Something that over the years I’ve come to understand.

If it benefits a person, they are willing to overlook another’s misery. Because who cares, as long as it doesn’t affect their end goal.

His smirk is nothing like the one Alejandro effortlessly wears. “You ready, beautiful?”

“It’s Miss Quintero. Please remember that.” My voice is low but he hears, and the smarmy smile only broadens as I take his hand and hold the position.

“Of course. My apologies.” His arm goes around my waist, pulling me in closer when the alarm in the studio goes off. Thank God.

“Everyone out. We’ll cancel today and reconvene tomorrow at the same time,” I hear her call out, but I’m already using the opening to step back, rushing away and toward my bag on the floor beneath the chair I’d been sitting on. The exit to the building is outside the room’s door and down the hall, and I curse my need to please others in this instance. My security’s usually across the street waiting for me, something that I’ve asked them to do so that others don’t feel uncomfortable, but as Gabriel calls out my name, I regret it.

“Solimar, wait up.” His shout catches the attention of the last stragglers still around. They look but continue on their way; not even the instructor seems to be around. One second I’m walking with the crowd,