Chapter 6

Camila

Closing my eyes, I concentrated on Cat and Dario’s conversation.

“How long do you plan to keep us under lock and key?”

“This isn’t a prison sentence. Things have been…” His voice trailed off.

“I understand. It’s that while Mama won’t complain; Camila—”

My skin bristled at the mention of my name.

“I don’t know how long,” Dario interrupted. “My number one concern is that you’re safe—they’re safe. You and your family are the center of this alliance.”

“The alliance,” Catalina replied, “is with el Patrόn, not my family.”

“We’re all involved.”

“You don’t need to worry about Mia out on the Bella.” My sister’s voice softened. “She’s safe.”

“I’m not worried about Mia; I’m worried about the alliance.” Dario’s volume increased. “I’m worried about you. The Russians attacked two targets, two targets in San Diego with an affiliation with this famiglia. It’s a rational concern to worry that they will try to attack here.”

“What about Jasmine?”

Dario’s tone changed, sounding even more protective. “I’ve sent Armando to New York.”

Catalina’s response was inaudible.

Dario continued, “He’s going to assess Piero’s work. I trust Armando, especially when it comes to Jasmine. If he thinks she’s in danger, he’ll bring her home.” Dario scoffed. “Don’t worry. Contessa is thrilled to have a full house to care for.”

“I’m sure she didn’t bargain for my family.”

“You’re my family, Catalina. Your family is my family. It’s why I offered Aléjandro some of our soldiers.”

“You did?” There was noticeable surprise in her voice.

“I did. He turned me down, but I offered. I have a meeting in a few minutes down in my office. It would be best if your mother and sister...”

Catalina sighed. “They’re both resting. Will the meeting be over before dinner?”

“I’ll do my best.”

“I’ll stay up here.”

My skin grew uncomfortably tight as the voices dimmed and low moans came from the other side of the door. As Dario said his goodbye, I hurried down the hallway away from their room and slipped inside the first door.

It didn’t take me long to realize I was in Jasmine’s bedroom. I scanned the colorful comforter and pillows. Within the built-in bookcases were books and pictures. Curiously, I chewed on my lower lip as I went closer. She had pictures with friends. I suddenly wondered how different it was to grow up in the Mafia than it was in the cartel.

One picture caught my eye.

It was Jasmine with a woman I didn’t know. She was pretty and petite. In a way she resembled Jasmine, but she was older with dark hair versus Jasmine’s red hair. Catalina had told me the story of Jasmine’s sister and Dario. This must be a picture of the infamous Josie.

Footsteps in the hallway alerted me when Dario left his room. I waited a minute or two before opening the door to the hallway and peering in both directions. Letting out a breath, I stepped out, closed Jasmine’s door, and walked to Catalina’s door. With a rap of my knuckles, I knocked.

“Come in,” Catalina called.

Opening her door, I stepped inside.

“Oh, Camila. I didn’t realize you were done resting.”

I looked down at the shorts and t-shirt I’d put on after my shower. “I wasn’t exactly thinking straight when I packed to come here.” I tilted my head with a grin. “You wouldn’t have any dinner-appropriate casual dresses I could borrow, would you?”

My sister’s smile grew. “Just like old times.” She stood from the sofa where she’d been sitting and gestured for me to follow to her closet.

The room, because it was too big to describe as a closet, was filled with exquisite items, from dresses to tops, blouses, skirts, and slacks. Multiple sets of drawers lined the walls and in the center of the room was a large round ottoman. “I’ll just take your entire closet.”

Catalina laughed. “Let me find my nonmaternity clothes. You can borrow as many as you’d like.” She laid her hand over her baby bump. “Obviously, they won’t fit me.”

“Any word on what’s happening on the streets?” I asked.

My sister shook her head as her smile faded. “I’m sorry we can’t go shopping or out and about in the city. Dario is protective.”

Overprotective.

“I get it.” I began pushing hangers from side to side, checking out Catalina’s clothes racks. “Papá would probably do the same thing.” I craned my neck, looking at my sister over my shoulder. “You know, keeping us safe is their way of controlling us.”

“Maybe. Remember Occam’s razor?”

I rolled my eyes. “Are we back in psychology class?”

“What does it say?”

“The simplest explanation is usually the one closest to the truth.”

Catalina nodded. “So, when Dario says he wants to keep us safe, he means…?” She left the sentence open.

“He wants to keep us safe.”

My sister grinned. “Are you finding anything you want to borrow?”

To avoid daily trips to my sister’s closet, I chose four sundresses, a nicer dress, and a couple of tops. Once back in my room, I changed into an emerald-green and blue dress, pairing it with sandals with straps that wound around my ankles. The neckline wasn’t too low for Mama to comment on, but when I looked in the mirror, I liked the way it made the top of my breasts noticeable.

My prepping was in vain—not only wasn’t Dante at dinner, but neither was Dario.

With each passing day, I felt more and more trapped within the walls of Catalina’s home. I’d spend my time in my room on my laptop or phone or in the theater room. I even ventured into the library from time to time.

The only thing that kept me from going stir-crazy was my new obsession with Dante. I’d wander the lower level of the penthouse simultaneously hoping to find him while nervous of what I’d say if I did. The few times he joined us for dinner, he was a mix of personalities. The jovial man I’d met a year ago was a bit darker, more intense.

That personality was equally interesting and even a bit more intriguing.

Five days into our visit, I sat at dinner, pushing Contessa’s meal around my plate. It was hard to be hungry when I felt like I wasn’t doing anything to create an appetite. The conversation around me wasn’t registering until I heard the shift in Dario’s tone.

“We should discuss that in private.”

It was a warning I’d heard my father say to my brother on more than one occasion. I looked around the table, wondering what exactly I’d missed. Dante’s muscles tightened beneath his Dri-FIT short-sleeve shirt. There was a sharp edge to his jaw as he stabbed the roasted lamb on his plate. Mama and Catalina were eating quietly.

It was Dario’s gaze that met mine. “That isn’t a discussion you should have to hear.” His tone was lighter than a moment before.

“I didn’t,” I replied honestly. “But if I had been paying attention, that would have been all right too. I grew up in the same home as Cat. I haven’t exactly been sheltered from the ways of the cartel.”

“Camila,” Mama whispered.

Dario nodded with a slight grin. However, it was Dante’s stare that I felt scorching my skin. My flesh pebbled as I turned to him. Lifting my chin, I sat taller. “I’m not a little girl.” I hadn’t refuted his comment when he made it nearly a week ago. Obviously, it had been eating at me.

Dario lifted his eyebrows. “Do you know who says they’re not a little girl?”

I laid my fork beside my plate. “Anyone who isn’t a little girl.”

“On the contrary. The need to announce who you are or who you’re not serves the exact opposite purpose.” He inhaled, his nostrils flaring. “Nevertheless, our dinner conversation will remain appropriate for everyone present.”

The capo had spoken. Despite the way the small hairs on the back of my neck stood to attention, I knew better than to continue the conversation. Catalina once explained that Jasmine and I were the same age. It made sense that Dario would see me as a child. I peered up, lifting my eyes as my face looked down at my plate. Dario wasn’t my concern. It was the man with the smirk across the table.