Twisted Tides (Forged Hearts #2)

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter Thirty-Seven

EVIE

“Son of a Preacher Man” by Dusty Springfield

“ H ere you go, ladies.” Adalia enters the room without knocking. Her sheer, flowing dress billows about as she rushes in with two packages—two boxes I recognize from the other day. She places them on the bed, looks at them, and then back at us. She lifts her hand to the packages. We watch her with curiosity.

“As promised, here are the dresses, both red this time so we don’t have the ‘holiday theme.’” She makes air quotes and rolls her eyes. “I remember the words you spoke when I brought them in for you to try on.”

I open the boxes to see that the dresses now match. “Thank you, Adalia. That was very kind of you.” I give my best attempt at sincerity, and she beams at our praise.

With her head held high, Adalia turns to walk out the door with a flourish of iridescent fabric trailing behind. Before she exits, she turns to us.

“You have someone coming in. Make sure you are waxed and made up before you slip into your dresses. I suggest you don’t give them a hard time.” She waves, and the door shuts behind her.

“Pfft, I was almost going to say she isn’t that bad.” Emma snorts as we stand in our robes, dumbfounded at the exchange just as another person enters moments later.

This time, a young woman enters wheeling a cart in front of her, and a bag is slung over her shoulder. She doesn’t speak; she just goes about her business while we stare at her.

She gently places the bag on the vanity and opens it, and a multitude of makeup and hair products spill forth. Next, I notice the heated wax on the silver cart, which makes me sweat. She grabs a stick and places it into the waxy mixture, then sets it down, testing the readiness of the substance as she claps her hands together in glee, ready to inflict pain on someone’s lady parts. As if there was any question about her role in this room, she immediately clarifies it.

“I’m going to help you ladies prepare for your party. Who wants to get waxed first?” She looks excited, and I look like I’d rather bathe in the hot wax as punishment.

The question lingers in the air as neither of us answers. She looks from me to Emma and then back again, wondering when someone will answer her. I glance over at Emma, who is standing there open-mouthed.

“I’ll go first,” I volunteer for what I suspect will be a Brazilian wax. “How do you want me?”

She points to the bed. “Lay on your back with your knees bent and legs open like a butterfly.” She demonstrates the motion with her hands. “Let your knees drop outward.”

I do as she says, and Evie looks away, pretending to look over her dress to give us some privacy.

“Yes, that’s it.”

Moments later, as the hot wax spreads over my most sensitive areas. The hair is removed in one quick sweep. Before I can think of it, I feel the sting, and my eyes fucking water.

“Oh, wow. That was intense.” I shift uncomfortably.

She nods in understanding. “We are almost done.”

I look up at her. “Really?”

“Nope. Just a few more passes, though.”

I almost pass out with the thought of continuing this for a few more rounds. I think my skin has gone numb as a protective mechanism. I didn’t know I even had hair there. I must have cleared my mind with my meditation techniques.

Before I know it, Emma is in my place, and the cool, soothing gel really did help to alleviate the minor discomfort of having all my hair ripped out at the follicle.

Emma howls, and I hold her hand, looking away out the window.

“So dramatic, babe.” I look down at her as she just glares daggers at me.

Before we know it, we are dressed, hair done, and makeup, too. I take in my appearance in the floor-length mirror and admire her grooming work. I look refined and sophisticated in the outfit. I look every bit the mafia princess worthy of a maximum payout for her hand in marriage.

I just hope Mateo comes through for us. We haven’t seen him since that horrific night at the dinner where Oro carted Mrs. Martinez away before our eyes. I shudder at the thought of him punishing her. Although we weren’t present to witness what happened to her, the screams that came from the room were enough to imagine the horrors she endured as part of her punishment.

The young woman is putting away her things, and we watch her, wondering what we do now.

“Is someone coming to get us?” I ask, and she raises her head to look up at me before continuing to put away her accessories.

She shrugs. “I don’t know. I was just told to get you ready like your life depended on it.”

I recoil at her choice of words. She doesn’t seem to notice my reaction. She leaves precisely how she came in—without acknowledging us. As she opens the door, we can hear the commotion of an event consisting of chatter and a band playing classy lounge music. I imagine guests walking around with a cocktail or champagne as Emma and I await certain doom.

A knock at the door lets us know that our time has come. Emma winces at the sound, and I hold onto her arm for comfort. She squeezes it in return, thanking me for my support.

In walks Mateo, and boy, is he a sight for sore eyes. Emma is about to run up to him, but the scared look in his eyes lets us know that that is a bad idea.

I hold her back, stopping her from going any farther and for him to have to physically reject the affection. There are bags under his eyes, and it looks like he hasn’t slept in ages.

“Are you ready, my sisters?” he asks with a pleading look on his face.

I answer for Emma and me. She is incapable of words at the moment. I don’t know what she thought was going to happen. He has a part to play, and so do we. We just have to trust that everything will come out okay.

To put your blind faith in someone is hard. You just have to trust them to come through, and not seeing anyone this week has really made it hard not to feel abandoned. Yet here we are, placing our faith in our brother to end this war that has been a long time coming.

I shake Emma’s arm, and she looks at me. Her eyes harden, and I smile.

“Let’s do this. Lead the way, brother.” I motion with my hand in front of me.

He nods, a slight smile to his mouth as he turns around, and we walk out to the party where shit is about to get real.

We walk down the hall as the music and noise get louder. “Walk behind me, please.”

As we arrive at the grand staircase, we are met by Mr. Martinez and his father, Ramón. Mr. Martinez looks us over with his hungry gaze that makes me want to vomit, but I won’t show him any weakness. Mateo and Ramón move to flank Mr. Martinez on each side of him, thereby hiding us from view.

“Can I please have your attention?”

The music stops, and the crowd grows silent. I can’t see anyone from here, but I know there are many guests present for this. The faces blend into one another as if they are melting.

“I’d like to welcome you to my home and, for some of you, into my family. You know my father, but you may not know my son, Mateo. Much like the prodigal son, he has returned home, and I welcome him with open arms. He is my true heir, and he brought us our very special guests for tonight. They are quite lovely, and I know that two of you here tonight will be fortunate enough to make this collaboration worth every penny. I will pass this over to my son to make further introductions.”

He slaps Mateo on the back and hands him the little microphone. He smiles widely with excitement.

“Hello. As my father introduced me a moment ago, I am Mateo, his son. Thank you all for coming, and I look forward to doing business with you in the near future.

“Without further ado, I know that you are here for the lovely women we are offering tonight, so I’d like you to meet them.”

Mateo motions for us to come forward, but I cannot move. I am the center of attention, and the hushed whispers make the perspiration drip down my back. Marcus is at the top of the stairs and pushes us forward.

“My sisters, Evie and Emma Ortiz Taylor.” Mateo holds out his hand for us to take, one on each side of him.

The music starts up again with a bass riff and a flute, lightly fluttering notes in the background. The singer belts out jazzy vocals as we begin our walk down the long staircase toward an uncertain fate.