Twisted Tides (Forged Hearts #2)

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Four

EVIE

“Girl You’ll Be a Woman Soon” by Rafferty

W e were served in our room like we were told we would be yesterday by Adalia. The food, shockingly, wasn’t bad. I would even consider it some of the best I’ve had in a long time. I expected to be served subpar meals, but then again, nothing has been what I’ve anticipated since arriving here.

We are getting comfortable the best we can, lounging on the bed, deep in our thoughts, when there is a knock at the door. I flinch, and Emma sucks in a breath. Is this it? Is it time for them to drag us out of here like cattle to the auction barn? We were not expecting anyone after our meals, and we don’t know what time it is. The sun is still shining outside.

Emma grabs onto my hand just as the door opens. Adalia enters, breezing in with her skirt flowing behind her and carrying two packages in her hands. She has a beaming smile plastered on her face, and I can’t help but wonder if she is possibly drugged. No one can be that delusional, but wait, this whole house is.

Maybe it’s something in the water.

I quickly look over at my empty glass as it sits on the counter, condensation pooling around the bottom, and I snicker, thinking how Emma is silently cringing at it. If it didn’t bother her, then we indeed have more significant problems.

“Hi, ladies. Your wonderful brother asked me to bring these to you. He is sorry he couldn’t visit but he is so busy with his father.”

I look over at Emma, whose nose is crinkled up at the tip, trying to hide her disgust but failing miserably. I stand, trying to sound excited. “Oh. I love presents, Adalia. What is it?”

Emma is now staring at me, wondering what I am up to.

Adalia practically jumps up with glee. “Dresses!” she exclaims. “Beautiful dresses.” She claps her hands. “Isn’t that great?”

“Wonderful.”

“Can we open them now, Adalia?” Emma asks, joining us, and I bet it kills her to be this type of fake nice to her.

Adalia picks one package up and hands it to Emma. “Of course, silly goose.”

Emma accepts the package and mouths, ‘ Silly goose.’

I quickly turn away to hide my chuckle. “Is that mine?” I point to the other remaining package.

Adalia nods and hands it to me. I open the package, and in it is a red fitted dress that should come to land around mid-thigh. It is short. A pair of black patent red-soled stiletto shoes complete the ensemble.

I look over to Emma. She opens her box, which holds a green halter dress with a similar style and length along with chain-style black leather red-soled shoes. She holds up the shoes, and her eyes light up.

“Not bad, Mattie.” Emma clicks her tongue.

Adalia squeals in delight. “I knew you’d like them.”

I nod in agreement. “It’s like Christmas.” I look over to Emma, and she snorts.

“Literally, green and red. Our favorite colors.”

Adalia looks over at the dress. A slight frown forms on her lips. They purse when she notices the green and red colors clashing like a Walmart Christmas portrait people mock on social media sites.

I reach out to her and grab her by the wrist to get her attention. Her eyes dart over to me, and I drop her wrist.

“They are really lovely dresses, Adalia. Will you please thank our brother for us?” This seems to make her spirits rise a bit. I cringe at my fakeness spewing forth.

“Of course!” she exclaims, clapping her hands together.

Emma and I hold our boxes, wondering what we are supposed to do now. We look at each other and then at Adalia, who is standing there.

“Um,” Evie starts off, about to say something.

“Oh, right. The dresses are for the party this weekend. We just want to ensure they fit, so I need to see them on you. I am to report back if anything needs to be switched out.”

We look at each other then walk into the large bathroom to change, and as soon as we shut the door, Emma starts to speak.

“What happens?—”

I put my hand over her mouth, shaking my head. I place my finger up my mouth and point to the door, indicating that Adalia is listening and will likely report back anything we say.

We get dressed in silence, and I glance in the mirror. The dresses are pretty, but together, they scream ‘holiday party.’ We walk out, and Adalia frowns.

“Well,” I hold my arms out, twirling a little, “What do you think?” Emma doesn’t do anything but stand there holding her hands like a little girl seeking approval from her mother.

A sigh comes out of Adalia’s mouth. “I don’t like the colors together. I am switching them to both be red. What do you girls think?”

I look over to Emma. She shrugs, and I nod. “I think that is a good idea. I do like the colors though.”

We step out of the dresses and hand them over to Adalia, and she walks to the door but hesitates before she leaves. She turns around to face us. Her eyes narrow.

“Don’t screw this up for Mateo. There will be a lot of important people at that party, so your complete cooperation is expected. Otherwise…” she trails off. Her smile widens. “Mr. Martinez has the final say on who you marry, and he might not be very cautious about whom he picks for you from the potential suitors. We have all ages with varying specifications for their future bride. Or even worse, if he allows Oro to punish you, I can guarantee that you won’t be able to walk well for about a week if that happens.”

I hear Emma gulp.

“Dinner is in a couple of hours, so be ready. Someone will be up to escort you to the dining room, so I suggest you are both on your best behavior.”

I look over to Emma as I hear the door close. I walk over, and she throws her arms around me, hugging me. We change into one of the few outfits we were permitted to bring with us and wait. We sit there in silence, deep in our thoughts, not wanting to talk about what we fear and what may happen this weekend. Without a clock or watch, we have no idea how long we sit there waiting.

Suddenly, the door opens, and our brother walks inside. We both jump off the bed and hug him tightly. I step away to look at my brother as Emma still holds on to him. That’s when I notice he isn’t hugging us back.

“Emma,” I say, and she looks at me in question, still holding onto Mateo, then notices what I noticed moments ago—the resemblance.

She steps back, looking at the man we came to love, and wondering if this is an act or something else. Did he betray us?

“Sisters, follow me.” He walks out the door, and his polished shoes click on the tile floor as we follow him down the hall.

The scary-looking guard with the gold tooth, who they referred to as Oro, is leering at Emma. His lip curls in a sinister smile as we walk past. Emma turns her head just as he winks at her, licking his lips and staring at her ass. Mateo doesn’t notice, and she doesn’t comment if he does notice. We continue to walk behind our brother in what I assume is the direction of the dining room.

Enter the dining room, where a large ornate table lies in the middle of the room under a crystal chandelier, there is a serving station with wine and champagne resting in their respective glacettes. Adalia picks up a bottle of red wine and serves Mrs. Martinez.

Mateo pulls our chairs out, and we take our seats in the spots that he selects for us. He then goes to sit across from his father and grandfather.

Adalia stands there along with the butler, who brings everything out to the table. He has a plate full of raw filet mignon steaks that he brings over to Mr. Martinez for approval. I watch with interest at the exchange. Mr. Martinez nods, and then the butler walks over to the guéridon trolley to begin cooking the steaks.

The steak is placed over heat, and brandy is poured into it to begin the flambé process. The fire roars to life, and the meat sizzles, causing my mouth to water. The smell of perfectly cooked meat fills the air, and I realize how hungry I am.

A multitude of trays line the table under heated flames to keep the food warm while the steaks are cooked to perfection. No one asked me how I like my steak cooked, but as I watch this demonstration, I can rest assured that they will be cooked perfectly to a medium-rare temperature.

Adalia picks up a bottle of wine and some champagne from each glacette and fills our cups. I select the champagne, as does Emma. I feel someone looking at me as I turn toward Mrs. Martinez. She is sizing me up with a look of distaste. Mr. Martinez laughs at something Mateo says, and her gaze moves toward him. If she looks at me with distaste, then the emotion on her face as she stares at Mateo is with a look of pure hatred.

She must sense my continued stare because she turns back to me before I can look away as she finishes the rest of her wine in one gulp. As soon as she puts it on the table, it is promptly refilled. I wonder if I should be worried about her lack of restraint. Nothing good could come of a drunk wife around my brother who has quickly taken her son’s place.

I’ve barely taken my last bite of food as I set my napkin on my lap, when I hear a throat clear. I turn to see Mr. Martinez wiping the corners of his mouth like some kind of aristocrat instead of the corrupt politician that he really is.

“Ladies, I hope you have enjoyed your stay here because it will be short-lived.”

Emma and I both look at Mateo, and his expression is emotionless. A robot would have more compassion than my brother.

“As much as I would have liked to have punished you, Mateo assured me you would behave while you were here, and he was right. This weekend, we will have a party for you where you will meet your potential suitors. By the end of the night, we will have chosen the best addition for this family to become your new husband, binding us to the Ortiz mafia connections across the border. This will solidify our ties and ensure a prosperous business venture.”

He clasps Mateo on the shoulder and squeezes. “My son is home, and I look forward to the continuation of my legacy. Now to find my son a bride of his choosing.”

Adalia perks up at this with her delusional smile plastered to her face.

The smile Mateo gives Mr. Martinez is all white teeth and most award-winning. The happy moment between father and son is short-lived as red wine drips from my brother’s face and saturates Mr. Martinez’s white shirt. The crimson color streaks the front as it rolls down the fabric and onto the floor. I hear a gasp from Adalia, but Emma and I sit there frozen and unflinching, not wanting any attention to be distracted from the wrath that will be coming.

Mr. Martinez stands up abruptly, and his chair falls back, hitting the floor with a loud thud. Mateo grabs the cloth napkin from his lap and wipes the excess wine away from his face. He is wearing a black dress shirt, so the wine coloring isn’t visible, but I can tell most of it was meant for his face.

Mrs. Martinez must be drunk or stupid because even I know to be scared, but any common sense has left the building along with her sanity. She stands up, her finger pointing at him as she leans over the table. I don’t know if she is using her grip on the table to hold herself upright or to keep from swaying at this point as she slurs obscenities at her husband.

We watch the exchange with our heads volleying back and forth as if we are watching a tennis match where the winner is an obvious unanimous decision.

“Your son. Your son!” she screeches, and I almost go to put my hands over my ears to ease the high-pitched sound that threatens to rupture my eardrums. “Our son is dead. My son is dead. He was the rightful heir, and this bitch killed him. I want her dead. I want them both dead.” She is looking between us and Mateo, but Mr. Martinez just laughs at her.

“Do you think I give a flying fuck about what you want?” He mocks her. “I want them dead.” He shakes his head. “Was their mother not enough for you? You’ve always been a jealous bitch and a lousy lay.” He looks over to Adalia and winks at her. Now my steak threatens to come up because I know that she is fucking him.

Mrs. Martinez takes her new glass of wine and begins to chug it.

“I think you’ve had enough to drink for tonight.” He takes her drink from her and places it away from her reach.

“Fuck you,” she spits at him, and he is so quick that I don’t hear the smack until a second after it happens.

She holds her cheek as anger radiates from her body. She stares at him defiantly, and I shift down farther into my seat, not wanting to see what will happen. “Fuck you!” she screams.

He nods. “Maybe that is what you need then.”

Her eyes widen almost as if the demon that took over her body has been exorcized, and she is just realizing what she did. Although, now, her eyes widen in fear.

“Oro!” Mr. Martinez yells, and the large tatted-up man enters the room.

“Yes, boss,” he says as he stops right in front of Mr. Martinez.

She backs up, realizing her mistake, but it is too late.

“I need you to show my wife what it means to be fucked.”

Oro chuckles. “Oh, I can certainly do that, boss.”

“No! No!” She begins to back up and looks around. If she is looking for help, she isn’t getting any from us. No one is saving her. Her cheek is bright red from the slap Mr. Martinez gave her.

Oro stalks toward her, and she attempts to kick him in the balls, but he anticipates the move. He leans in and punches her in the face, and she goes down like a ton of bricks. He picks her up as if she weighs nothing and flips her over his shoulder. One shoe falls to the floor as they turn the corner and disappear.

Emma and I stay there sitting quietly.

“Let this be a lesson to you to understand what will happen if you don’t cooperate this weekend at your party. If you step out of line, I’ll let Oro teach you some manners.” Mr. Martinez leaves the room.

We hear a door open. The sound of muffled cries echoes down the corridor before it disappears along with my dinner as I throw up the entire contents of my stomach onto the high-polished floor.