Crowned In Blood

Chapter 2

2

Catalina

I adjusted the hem on my knee-length, baby-blue chiffon dress and pushed my hair behind my shoulder. It made me seem younger, innocent, gullible —the exact image I needed for my meeting with my father. But my eyes were defiant.

It was like my body could no longer contain itself. I listened for every step, flinched at every loud noise, was too watchful, too alert. I barely slept.

I was terrified that, somehow, my father would know. Maybe someone would tip him off. I would forget something, not be careful enough, and suddenly, everything would go to shit.

Naya, the head of the Center of Gentle Love and Hope, had told me multiple stories of women facing the same psychological response when they thought of escaping their abuser.

They'd panic at the notion of leaving, because regardless of the pain, misery, and terror they suffered, they knew their abuser. They knew their triggers, knew their surroundings, and the brain valued that information.

In the known, there was familiarity, a measure of safety, but what waited in the unknown brought nothing but fear. Between that and the possibility that anything could go wrong, it made sense why so many people stayed.

But I wouldn't.

With a deep breath, I stared at my reflection, forcing myself to calm down. Little by little, I smoothed my expression until it morphed into one of a gentle, doting, unassuming daughter. Then I made my way to my father's office and knocked on the door.

"Come in."

I steeled myself, but when I opened the door, I found my father wasn't alone.

Seated in front of him was a large, heavyset man with thick black hair pulled back into a ponytail at his nape. I recognized him as one of the people who had attended the party last night. Someone I’d gone out of my way to avoid.

Being near him made my skin crawl. The air of danger and malice around him was tangible—even in a crowded room.

The rich saw themselves as the elite. They could take whatever they wanted, own whatever they felt they deserved. Everything and everyone had a price. That's what they all believed.

But this man didn't seem like he wanted to pay. Like he'd kill anyone for simply suggesting it.

He acted like the world owed him something, that he had the right to take whatever he wanted by force. And when his brown eyes dragged their way slowly over my body before finally meeting my own, the look in his eyes said it all… he wanted me .

"Catalina, this is Fernando Salazar. Fernando, this is my daughter, Catalina."

Fernando made no move to rise from his chair, making sure I had to cross the distance between us to shake his hand. Warning signals fired off in my gut. Something was very wrong.

While my father couldn't care less about me privately, publicly, he always acted like I was his most prized possession. Disrespecting me meant disrespecting him, and that's exactly what Fernando had done. Yet my father said nothing. In fact, he seemed to be completely ignorant of the entire exchange, even though I'd seen him ruin a man for less.

But for now, I was expected to play their game.

I stuck out my hand, donning my most welcoming smile. "It's nice to meet you, Fernando."

Fernando ignored my hand for a moment, his meticulous gaze studying my skin as if I was a piece of art he could critique. Unease filled my veins, but I kept the smile on my face.

Finally, he shook my hand, his grip tight. Squeezing my fingers, expecting me to wince. If it weren't for my high pain tolerance and spite, I would have.

He released his grip, leaving my fingers with a dull ache, then kissed my hand. "It is lovely to meet you, Catalina." His voice was deep with a heavy Hispanic accent.

His kiss felt dirty. Forcing another smile, I pulled my hand from his, the rough hairs of his goatee scratching my skin.

"She's beautiful." He grinned.

"Then you approve?"

I turned to my father, the knots in my stomach twisting tighter. "Approve?"

"Yes." Fernando stood, towering over me.

I gulped at the hungry expression in his eyes. He looked at me like he wanted to crush me, break me until there was nothing left. Still, I kept myself calm, not willing to give Fernando or my father the satisfaction of seeing how afraid I really was.

I stepped to the side of Fernando, moving out of his way. But as he walked past me, he grabbed a lock of my hair and brought it to his lips.

Surprised, I instinctually jerked away.

He laughed. "Make sure she looks like this on our wedding day. I want everyone to see how innocent she is before I ruin her."

My father nodded as Fernando left the room.

My mouth went dry, my heart hammering against my ribs as I stared at my father, wide-eyed. "Wedding day? What?—"

Without glancing at me, my father tossed a file to me from his desk. "Read over this. I want you ready and prepared."

My chest tightened as I took the file and opened the folder. The pages were filled with details about Fernando—his age; where he lived. "Father, what is?—"

"I've arranged a marriage between the two of you. The wedding will happen in three days. You will study this file, which contains everything you need to know including what Fernando expects, and how you will act as a bride and a wife. Do not embarrass me.”

Arranged. Marriage. Fernando. Ruin. Embarrass. Arranged. Marriage. Fernando. Ruin. Embarrass. Arranged. Marriage. Fernando. Ruin. Embarrass. Arranged. Marriage ? —

My fingers shook, then my arms, to my chest. Through my body.

All the work I'd done, the plans I'd made, the abuse I'd taken was for nothing. Nothing! My father had transferred the ownership of my cage to that vile, horrible, detestable man.

The file fell from my hand as I threw my head back and laughed, the thunderous sound of my rapid heartbeat and my rage filling my ears. And when my eyes landed on my father, with his blue eyes looking at me in complete disgust, I threw myself over the desk.

My hands reached out to grab his neck, to choke the life from him in the same way he had done to me for years.

Two guards gripped my arms, yanking me back, keeping me from killing him the way I wanted to, deserved to. But I kept trying. I hissed, growled, thrashed like a wild animal.

“I'll kill you! I swear, I'll kill you! You fucking bastard!”

"Enough!" He jumped to his feet then slammed the desk with his palms. "Kill me? Me ? When I'm the one who has kept you alive this entire time? The one who has fed you, put clothes on your back? Given you everything you've ever wanted?"

I had no idea I'd threatened him out loud. No idea that I'd been screaming and crying, My throat was hoarse, arms held by my sides. I could do nothing but quietly sob.

I broke in front of him.

"You're a spoiled, ungrateful little bitch!" He grabbed my chin, his gaze cold and hard. "The only reason I kept you alive was to serve me. Otherwise, I would have killed you as a baby. That's your purpose. You should be thanking me for my generosity."

He threw me back like a piece of trash. "Without me, you are nothing . You're worth nothing." He sneered. "But you will pay me back for the years of money, time, and energy I've funneled into you. I need this deal with Fernando, and he wants you. You will marry him, you will bear him as many children as he desires, and you will do it with a fucking smile , or so help me, I will kill you where you stand."

His anger calmed me. It forced me to swallow my fury, carefully concealing it once more, letting it simmer under the surface. Because while I'd rather die than marry Fernando, I wouldn't give my father the satisfaction of killing me.

Instead, I spit in his face and smiled when he was forced to wipe it away.

"You’re lucky the media will be circling around this wedding like vultures, or I would beat the shit out of you." He leaned closer to me, his face only inches away from mine as he hissed, "But remember Catalina, I know how to hurt you."

"Do your worst." I went to spit at him again, but a guard hit me on the back of my head, and the world faded to black.

I awoke on the floor of my room with Fernando's file next to me. Remembering the way he looked at me, touched me, had bile rising up my throat, and I raced to my trash bin and threw up.

Three days.

Three days was all I had to come back from this, to make a new plan. To gain my freedom.

I wiped away the vomit with the back of my hand, squared my shoulders, then found they'd taken my computer and cell phone. Cutting off all ties to the outside world. Curious, I tried my bedroom door. Locked.

Fine .

I’d slipped up and had finally shown my father exactly what I thought about him, that I'd been acting the entire time. He couldn't trust me, couldn't let me roam around, knowing I'd try to escape the first chance I got. I'd doubted he’d even let me eat today.

But none of that mattered. I needed to survive, to pivot and find a way out of this. And I would, eventually. I had to.

A part of me desperately wished that Fernando might be a good person. Maybe he’d actually grow to care for and love me. But I knew that would never happen.

He was a monster, a predator, and to him, I was his prey.

Furious tears threatened to spill from my eyes, but I wiped them away. I didn't have time to cry. I didn't have time to mourn, or grieve all the things I wanted my life to be. I had to fight as hard as I could, and the best way I could do that was to know my adversary.

Taking a deep breath, I tried to keep the mental spiral threatening to send me into a breakdown at bay, then grabbed the file. Huddling myself into a corner on the floor, I opened the folder.

Name: Fernando Salazar

Age: 43

I gulped at the age difference, shook off the fear, then kept reading.

Birthday: October 16th

City and State of Address: New York, NY

Marital Status: Divorced (twice)

What happened to his previous wives? The thought that he might have hurt them sent a shiver down my spine.

Children: None

I flipped the page to photos of Fernando at different parties with an array of people, all of them rich, all in a position of power or authority. There was even a photo of him with the Mayor.

In another photo, he was getting into a black SUV with guards surrounding him. The gun at his waist drew my attention. My father always had guards, but he never carried a gun.

There was no way Fernando was related to a politician then, and I doubted a CEO would need such protection. Maybe he worked in security?

Turning the pages, I realized Fernando had several businesses. Corporations, pharmaceuticals, laundromats, restaurants. He owned half of the port of New York, not to mention countless warehouses.

Each page and photo set off warning bells, but why?

The last page was a detailed list of instructions for me as the bride, my expected demeanor for the wedding, and beyond.

I was to act as a blushing, innocent virgin bride utterly in love with Fernando. The media would be watching, and it was my job to give them the show of a lifetime.

If I failed at any time to make our union look like anything other than joyful and willing, I would face severe punishment from my soon-to-be husband.

Fernando wanted me dressed modestly, nothing revealing. There would be no reception after the wedding and I would be expected to provide him with children as soon as possible. He would tolerate a daughter, but a son was nonnegotiable. Only a male could run his mafia empire, and if I couldn't give him one, I'd cease to be useful.

My heart went into overdrive, chills racking my body.

Mafia.

No. No…

I flipped through the photos again with newfound clarity. Fernando hadn't included the images to show off his wealth or status; he’d included them to make sure I knew the truth.

I wouldn't be able to escape.

If I tried to take a flight out of the state or country, he'd know. If I tried to take a ferry into Canada, he'd know. He had the damn Mayor in his pocket, likely most if not the entire police force.

My vision blurred as tears rolled down my cheeks. There was nowhere for me to go. No plan or scheme for me to grasp onto.

My fate was to become someone else's possession, and there was nothing I could do about it.