I said to her, “You need to tell me who you’re running from.”
She twisted the fabric of her skimpy tank in her hands. “I seem to have a talent for winding up in shady situations.” She looked at the ground, full of remorse.
Looking down at her red, protruding lips, I knew I’d have to jack off tonight.
I didn’t know what made me say it. The words left my mouth before I could stop them and shocked the shit out of me since it wasn’t my style to go chasing tail.
“That may be true,” I said. “From here on out, the only trouble you have to worry about is me.”
5
Eva
A chill ran up my back when I got out of the car.
Roberto made me feel uneasy. Was it the aura of danger around him, like the one you felt staring through the unbreakable glass of the tiger exhibit? Or the casual sensuality he exuded?
Desire and fear had a lot in common: a strong awareness of one’s own heartbeat, a sensation of hair-raising on one’s arms and nape, quickening breath… it was no wonder I couldn’t tell which I was feeling now.
I’d never stood this close to a man like him. The palpable menace he held in check was admirable. So long as he used that ferocity to protect me and didn’t turn it against me.
He came around and opened the passenger door for me, sliding a blazer around my shoulders as protection from the chill. Aside from his smacking my ass on the side of the road, he’d been a complete gentleman.
The spot between my legs tingled remembering how he’d brought me in line.
“Prepare to be bombarded with questions,” he spoke in his tummy tickling, low voice, “my sisters are relentless.” His affection was as plain as the nose on this face, although he uttered the comment like a complaint.
“Mamma Mia, we need to get some shoes on you!” said the fastest of the two who raced down the steps in her pink ballet slippers and stared aghast at my bare feet. With a palm on each of her cheeks she said, “Come with me, you poor thing.”
Roberto put his hand to my lower back and swooped me up in his arms, “Bring her some clothes and shoes Gia, she can bathe in the guest room. Once she’s warmed up, we’ll eat, and I’ll tell you all about it.”
The astonished glance that the two sisters exchanged didn’t escape my notice.
They walked ahead of us, up the vast, stone stairs leading into the mansion, turning their heads over their shoulders now and again to feed their curiosity.
Or check on me. I couldn’t tell which.
My chest was hollow, along with an unfamiliar, dim heat in my belly. A craving. Love and warmth rose off of these siblings in waves.
In contrast to the dark storm, the top and bottom floors of the home in front of us glowed warmly, and a two-story fountain, also illuminated, sat in the middle of the circular drive.
Once inside, Gia, dumped half a bottle of bubble bath in the giant tub and said, “I hope you don’t mind a bath. Nearly all the bathrooms here at Villa Carlotta have them instead of showers. Mama prefers it that way.”
“A bath sounds heavenly.” A flash of the crappy, plastic shower insert at mine and papi’s rental crossed my mind. No matter how I scrubbed it, the dinge never disappeared. This palatial porcelain tub wasn’t even a distant relative of that grunge magnet. We’d had to move in, out of my childhood house, the one he scrimped and saved for, when his chemo bills started coming in.
Gia brought a stack of clothing for me, cozy socks and some slippers, and a pair of pajamas for later. “Put this on when you’re dry,” she said and hung a glittery, sparkly slip of a thing on the back of the door.
“Get changed and I’ll be back to bring you to dinner.” Before turning away, she fixed her eyes on me and said, “You’re the first female Roberto has ever brought home, you know, he must see something special in you.” She winked, “Wear the dress.” She pointed at the shiny thing on the hanger.
The dress was obviously designer, even I could see that, though no name brand labels hung in my closet.
What an imposter you’ll be around that dinner table. Who do you think you are? I asked myself.
Me, Eva Montoya. Twenty- seven. Daughter of Carlos Montoya, widower of Sofia. A voracious reader. Afraid of spiders and the dark. The girl who took her fourth grade picture with her stuffed monkey and didn’t know enough to be embarrassed.
A woman who thought converse and a pair of faded jeans were the only fashion apparel needed. The country kid who found cities overrated, and believed happiness was a platter of super nachos and The Office reruns under the covers.
This reality belonged to someone else—someone who wore fashionable gowns to dinner and drove luxury cars over back roads.
That girl wasn’t me. And I’d be lying to myself to pretend that she was.
The meal included tortellini, antipasto, grilled eggplant, chicken parmesan, and asparagus with lemon. I ate until I thought I’d burst, and it was going on ten o’clock. Sagging in the velvet-covered chair, my arms drooped heavily at my sides.
“Dessert, Eva?” Roberto’s mother, who introduced herself as ‘Señora Moretti,’ asked. “We’re having cannoli.” She was polite but avoided direct eye contact with me.
I didn’t blame her. I’d be wary of me too.
Livia leaned over and whispered in my ear, “That dress looks amazing on you. You’re lucky, not have to worry about calories. I want a good body, but not as much as dessert.”
A feeling of warmth flooded my chest, and I realized watching her pile her dessert plate high with custard filled tubes, that despite being totally out of my element, this girl put me at ease. “You’re perfect,” I said.
By the time we finished dessert, I wanted to lie down. I was crashing hard from the adrenaline spike of a narrow escape from Lyle and barely registered Roberto going silent and holding me with his gaze.
“It’s time you got some rest,” he commanded.
“Let me help with the dishes.” I stood and felt my eyes drifting involuntarily shut.
“Another time. Tonight, you need rest.” He stalked over to my side of the table.
“So bossy,” commented Livia and Gia tittered.
“You’d best remember who’s in charge of this family.” He uttered the words at a clip, grabbed my hand and pulled me through the door.
Behind us, Livia got in the last word. “You might be bigger and stronger, but so long as her tiny body has all those things that you don’t—she can be the boss of you.” She crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at Roberto.
“Basta. Livia!” said the Señora.
I leapt in to dissipate the tension waving back at them. “Señora Moretti, ladies, thank you so much for dinner and for your hospitality.”
Roberto clutched my wrist and lead me down the long, luxurious hallway. The only time I’d seen a house this lavish was on the Real Housewives of New Jersey. There were chandeliers hanging from the ceiling and lit columns imbedded in the wall as accent points.
While gaping at the opulence all around, I tripped over the carpet. He caught me in his arms and pulled me into his chest. Gathering me to him, his manly scent of musk and fine wool stunned me. Gently, he pushed my chin up with one finger, his black brows raised questioningly. “Are you alright, Eva?”