Punished (Calavera Hotels #1)

Chapter Sixteen Adrian

I head to the shower after Mireya leaves. A very cold shower. I don’t have time to take care of my dick, and at this point, we’ve come to an agreement that Mireya is worth waiting for. After last night, I’ve decided she will be mine. Her dreams are mine, her moans are mine, and her punishment will be mine to carry out. The plan developed while I watched her sleep next to me. It was something about the way she drifted back to sleep. The softness of her face, her chest rising and falling with each breath, and her pouty lips mumbling my name. She was as desperate for me as I am for her. I need to have her. I need to punish her for what she did and remind her who she belongs to.

I get dressed and make my way back to the kitchen when I see my mother and Patricio sitting at the table. She looks better than yesterday, but Dr. Aguilar said it could take a month before we get all the drugs out of her system. Patricio spreads jam over a piece of toast for her. He is still in his clothes from last night. They both look up when I walk in to take a seat at the table.

“Ama, how are you feeling?” She looks up and offers a faint smile.

“I’m good, mijo. I’m tired, but I’m happy to see you.” She reaches across the table and her hand grabs a hold of mine. She looks up to the ceiling, trying not to cry. I have witnessed her like this a dozen times. It had been a cycle every time she used. She was always sorry, but only until the cravings returned. Then she was desperate and using again. As if he can hear my worry, Patricio looks to me.

“We need to find a more suitable place for your mother to recover.”

“I wasn’t talking to you. I was talking to my mother.” I stare right at him as my jaw clenches. He wants to take her to his fancy estate, with his staff and luxuries to keep her busy. He wants to be her knight in shining armor. Over. My. Dead. Body.

“Your mother needs help, Adrian. I’m not saying she has to come home with me, but she does need to be around professionals. I can find her a high-quality rehabilitation facility, where both her physical and emotional needs can be assessed.” He’s not backing down .

“You’re not her fucking savior, Patricio.” I’m not backing down either.

“Adrian. Patricio is right. It might be better if I go with him until I can check myself into a facility.” I look at my mother’s exhausted face. Her voice soft and her eyes pleading.

“No! This family shut you out! And you think you’re safer around him than you would be around your own fucking son? If you hate me so damn much, just say it!” The words fly out like bullets.

She stands up and reaches over the table and slaps me across the face. I immediately feel the sting, her hand sharp against my face.

She stares at me, and I see where my words hurt her the most as tears fall down her eyes.

“I am the one who told Patricio to get me out of here. How do you think it makes me feel to have my own son see me like this? To see me weak and broken. I was supposed to take care of YOU! I am your mother, Adrian, and I was supposed to take care of you.” She breaks down and sobs as Patricio moves to comfort her.

There’s a strange feeling pulling in my chest. It’s like I’m that ten-year-old boy again. The one who put so much pressure on himself to rescue her. The loneliness I felt as a child and the promises I made myself to never feel that weak again.

“Ma, I’m sorry. I just—” I can’t find the words, and my voice cracks at the thought of her leaving me again. “I just want to help you.”

“I know you do, but you can’t do this for me. I have been running for so long, and I am tired, Adrian. I’ve spent every day since you got locked up regretting the person I’ve become. The type of mother I was to you. I have let the past control my present, and I don’t want it to control my future.”

“There are dark things in my past that I have been running from for far too long. Things you are old enough to understand now, so we can take the next step forward. So I can take the next step forward. The first thing you need to understand is nothing that happened to me was Patricio’s fault. I hid things from you, and I hid you from them.” I give her my full attention. It’s the first time she has ever talked openly about her addiction.

“I was afraid of your biological father. What he did to me broke me, and I had no way of escaping what he did when I was carrying his child. I didn’t want you. I tried to tell my mother, and she didn’t care. As a devout Catholic woman, she would not entertain any other option.” She squeezes Patricio’s hand tighter. Her face is blank, like retelling this is a step toward finally staring her demons down. I was her demon.

“I’m sorry.” The words fall out as a plea. This whole time I had been trying to save her, she had been running from me–the embodiment of her trauma. This whole situation is fucked up. I was forced on her. Something she never wanted. The ache in my chest tightens.

“When I saw you, Adrian, my feelings changed. I was selfish. I wanted to keep you. I wanted you to save me. Patricio was ready to raise you as his own son, and I saw light at the end of the tunnel. He was willing to give all this up. It was a hard decision, but at the time, I thought it was better for me to do this alone. I didn’t want Patricio to sacrifice anything for me. I knew I’d destroy him in my sadness. I pushed him away, and I leaned on you. I’m sorry for that. I never wanted you to grow up feeling unloved, but I could never give you the love you deserved.”

I want to be sad. I want her to love me. I want to be angry. I want to die. I want everything and nothing, all at once. I watch as tears fall down her face, and all I can think about is how damaged I really am, but she was allowed her truth. Even if that truth shattered me. There it was. I had never been loved, and I would never be able to love anyone. I want to think about her, but I’ve spent my whole life thinking about her. I was a little boy, working harder on her recovery than she ever did, just so she would love me, and in the end, it did nothing. I would always be a reminder of my father.

“Adrian, are you okay?” Patricio asks.

“Don’t worry about me. You did your part already. I don’t need shit from you or you,” I say, as I point to each of them. “I loved you, even when I had no idea you could never love me. You fucking tore me apart, and I still went to the gates of hell to find you. I see now that may never be enough.”

“Adrian, please don’t be mad at me for speaking my truth.”

“Go. Get out! Let Patricio save you and forget I ever existed!”

“Adrian!” She stands in protest, but I’m already out the door.

I need to get the fuck out of here. I see where she is coming from, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less. I never knew what I was expecting in finding her. That I could make her love me. Nothing I did would ever matter to her because I am still the son of a monster. It’s not only her that looks at me like that, either. I see everyone and hear the whispers. They are worried I will be as ruthless as my father. Why not give them what they’re waiting for?

I am halfway into a bottle of Patrón when I hear a knock on my door. I spent most of the day walking around to clear my mind before stopping by the liquor store. I had several missed calls from Patricio, followed by a text message.

Patricio: We just left. We need to talk when you’re ready.

I take another sip of the liquor and let it burn down my throat. When I open the door, Mireya stands and takes me in. I watch as her eyes observe the darkness in the house. The darkness in me. She takes a step in. That’s her first mistake. She must not have gotten the memo to steer clear of the devil’s bastard. She notices the empty room in the back and looks at me as I take my seat on the couch next to my bottle. Peso Pluma’s version of Fuentes de Ortiz blares from the speakers behind me, and I pull out a cigarette as I stare at her.

“I don’t think they allow you to smoke in here.”

“Ask me if I care. ”

Her eyes shift, and she nervously scratches her arm. She’s still in her work uniform, but I haven’t been able to get the images of her from last night out of my mind. The way her fingers slid in and out of her wet pussy. Her little moans as I pumped my dick. I want to take her to my bedroom and tie her up so she can never leave me. So, no one can ever leave me again. I stare at her and blow out the smoke in a satisfying exhale.

“Is everything okay?” she whispers, taking in the half empty tequila bottle on my coffee table.

“I don’t know, Mireya. Why don’t you tell me?” I say, giving her a long, hard stare. I am tired of the bullshit games we are playing, tired of trying to figure all this shit out on my own. She had a part in that setup. I want to see if she is willing to own up to it or hide behind a lie. I want to rip all the band-aids off today.

“Maybe we need to talk, Adrian.”

“Great. Let’s start with why you lied and said you were with Bryan the night I got arrested? Or why don’t you tell me why your mother was the last person seen with my mother?” Her eyes shoot toward me and her eyebrows furrow.

“I… didn’t know about my mom.” She rocks back and forth as I stalk closer. My six-foot frame towering over her.

“I had no idea what Bryan was doing that night. I didn’t know you were involved until it was too late. I was… I was just doing what I was told,” she says, looking up at me, her pouty lips trembling and her eyes searching mine.

“And you’re such a good girl… Do you always do what you’re told?” She backs into the wall and I cage her in. My knuckles tracing along her jawline and slowly grazing down her neck, over her pulse, that familiar vanilla scent overtaking my senses. I let my knuckles roam to her breasts and stroke lazy circles around her nipples. Her eyes shut as she takes in the sensitive touch.

“Do you think I deserved to be punished for something I didn’t do?”

“No,” she says in a raspy breath.

“Do you think you should be punished for lying?” I grab her breast and squeeze it.

She arches her back and whimpers. All fear washes from her face, replaced with something that will damn us both– desire.