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CALAVERA: The Mafia’s Caged Bride 104
THE GUEST OF HONOR~ANYA POV~The mirror didn't show a bride-to-be. It showed a car crash victim in a ballgown.I stared at my reflection. The dress César had picked out was stunning...a deep, midnight-blue silk that hugged every curve and pooled on the floor like liquid ink. It was backless, sleeveless, and cost more than my parents' house.But I couldn't look at the dress. I could only look at my head.A thick, stark white bandage was wrapped around my forehead, covering the gash where César had smashed my skull against the yacht railing."It looks ugly," I whispered, my fingers hovering over the gauze. "Everyone is going to stare."César stood behind me, adjusting his cufflinks. He looked impeccable in a tuxedo, the picture of the grieving, supportive fiancé. He met my eyes in the glass."Let them stare," he said calmly.He reached into a small velvet box on the vanity. He pulled out a brooch. It was shaped like a flower, made of diamonds and sapphires. He didn't pin it to my dress
CALAVERA: The Mafia’s Caged Bride 103
THE DROWNING~ANYA POV~The yacht wasn't just a boat. It was a floating palace, glowing white against the black water of the harbor.It was beautiful, in the way a sharp knife is beautiful. I stood on the dock, staring at the gold letters painted across the hull.'THE ESMERALDA.' My middle name.My stomach turned over. It wasn't a romantic move. It was a brand. He'd named a multi-million dollar vessel after me like he was tagging cattle. It was his way of telling the ocean, the sky, and everyone in Spain that he owned me."Do you like it?" César asked. He was standing right behind me, his chest brushing my back. His hand rested heavy on the nape of my neck, fingers toying with the baby hairs there."It's... a lot," I whispered."It's yours," he said.He guided me up the ramp. I didn't want to go. My feet felt like lead. Every step away from the solid ground felt like a mistake, but his grip on my neck was firm. Not painful, just... present. A reminder.We had dinner on the upper deck.
CALAVERA: The Mafia’s Caged Bride 102
THE DEVIL'S MOTHER~ANYA POV~I wake up to silence.The room is bright, clean, and terrifyingly empty. César is gone. The space in the bed beside me is cold, meaning he left hours ago. I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.A maid brings breakfast on a silver tray. She keeps her head down, placing the coffee and croissants on the table like she is feeding a tiger in a cage. She doesn't look at me. No one looks at me. I am the thing that belongs to the master, and looking might get them killed.I eat because I have to. The baby demands it.By noon, I am wandering the garden. I need air. I need to not smell César's cologne for five minutes."Anya, querida!"I freeze.Lucrecia Navarro is sitting under a white umbrella, sipping iced tea. She looks perfect. Elegant. Like a queen holding court. She waves me over."Sit," she says, patting the iron chair beside her. "You look pale. Are you eating enough?"I sit. My legs are shaking. "Yes, Mrs. Navarro. I'm fine.""Call me Lucrecia,"
CALAVERA: The Mafia’s Caged Bride 101
~ANYA POV~The yellow dress César chose is bright. Too bright.It makes me look like a canary. A beacon. As we walk across the manicured lawn toward the cliffs, I realize that is exactly the point. He wants me to be seen.The Spanish sun is high and hot, beating down on my shoulders, but César is cool as ice beside me. His hand is a heavy weight on the small of my back, steering me, pushing me toward the edge of the property where the land drops off into the sea.We stop at a spot where a blanket has already been laid out. There is a basket. A bottle of wine. It looks like a scene from a romance movie.But then I look at the tree line.It is about three hundred yards away. A dense brushwood of pines and scrub brush. It looks empty to the naked eye. But I know he is there.Diego.My heart gives a painful, lurching thud. My twin brother is out there, looking through a scope, sweating in the heat, waiting for a chance to save me."He's watching," César whispers, his lips brushing my ear.
CALAVERA: The Mafia’s Caged Bride Chapter 100
~ANYA POV~I wake up to the sound of the sea.For a split second, I think I am back in Mijas. I think I am in my old bedroom, and my mom is downstairs making coffee, and Diego is revving his motorcycle in the driveway.Then I open my eyes.The ceiling is hand-painted wood. The sheets are silk. And the arm draped heavily across my waist belongs to the man who gave me a box of human eyes for dessert.I sit up with a gasp, scrambling away from him until my back hits the headboard.My eyes dart to the floor. To the expensive Persian rug where I dropped the box last night. Where the eyes rolled out, wet and green and staring.It's gone.The rug is spotless. No blood. No box. No eyes. The room is clean, bathed in the warm, golden light of the Spanish morning. It looks peaceful. It looks normal.Did I dream it?"It wasn't a dream, mi vida."César's voice is rough with sleep, startling me. He hasn't moved. He is lying on his back, his arm still outstretched where I used to be. He opens one ey
CALAVERA: The Mafia’s Caged Bride 099
~CESAR'S POV~I stand behind her in front of the vanity mirror.The black silk of the dress slides through my fingers like water. It is a dress made for a widow, mourning and painful. Good. Let her mourn the life she lost. Let her mourn the girl she used to be. That girl is dead.She is trembling.I rest my hands on her bare shoulders. Her skin is cool, clammy with that specific, sweet scent of fear that seems to cling to her permanently now. I watch her reflection. Her eyes are wide, dark tunnels of panic. She isn't looking at herself; she is looking at me.She is terrified.And God help me, it is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen."Your brother is watching the house," I tell her.I feel her heart stutter against her ribs under my hand. I see the flash of hope, followed instantly by the crushing weight of reality.I know Diego is there. My snipers picked him up three hours ago. He is lying in the dirt at the edge of the estate, clutching a rusty rifle, thinking he is a ghost.
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