CHAPTER ELEVEN

When I returned from my jog, the house was silent; neither my grandmother nor my uncle had returned yet. I was relieved by their absence. I ascended the stairs thinking about Mateo's declaration, that he’d be having dinner with me tonight—without specifying a time. How was I supposed to explain that to my uncle and grandmother? I didn't care what they thought, but I dreaded their inevitable barrage of questions. I hardly had the answers myself. I had yet to know why this man had taken such a vested interest in me. I could only take his words with a grain of salt.

As I approached my bedroom, a sense of dread gnawed at me. Entering, I silently prayed that the stench of burning flesh had finally dissipated. I had disposed of the severed hand Mateo had sent to me by tossing it into the fireplace, unable to think of any other way to handle it .

Returning it to him was out of the question and touching it any more than necessary was unthinkable. Thankfully, the smell was gone—an experience I never wished to endure again. But now, on my bed, another satin-wrapped gift box awaited me, its presence unmistakably linked to Mateo. A wave of unease washed over me as I stepped further into the room and closed the door. How had his messenger managed to place it here before my return?

Then again, if he was having me watched they could've come right in after I left. With cautious steps, I approached the bed, eyeing the box suspiciously. My heart pounded as I reached out and picked it up, feeling its weight. I gave it a gentle shake, listening intently. There were no unsettling sounds, no telltale signs of another gruesome surprise. Relieved but still wary, I carefully set the box back down on the bed. I hesitated for a moment longer, then began to untie the satin ribbon, my fingers trembling slightly .

Another wave of relief washed over me when no severed parts appeared. Inside was a stunning black dress, elegant and meticulously designed by Alexander McQueen, the tag still attached, indicating its exorbitant price. Alongside it was a pair of heels, their signature red soles gleaming. Nestled beside them was a small note card with a simple but commanding message: " Be waiting outside by 7.

A quick glance at the clock revealed it was already 4:30. Setting the card aside, I carefully lifted the dress from the box, still in disbelief at the unfolding events. I knew that getting entangled with him would irrevocably alter the course of my life yet again, but at this point, the choice felt like it was out of my hands.

I sat my cell phone down on the bed and stared at my reflection in the mirror with a frown. “Aren’t you guys supposed to talk me out of this?”

“We’re supposed to talk you out of bad decisions, not smart ones,” Melody replied.

“Have you not heard anything I’ve said?” I replied, frustration creeping into my tone.

“Listen, babe, Mateo Escuro doesn’t casually tell a woman he’s taking her to dinner.”

“He doesn’t do dinner, period,” Melody added .

“Mel’s right. He just jackrabbits them into the headboard and then they disappear.”

I turned away from the mirror and toward where my phone sat on the bed, my heart skipping a beat. “I’m sorry, what do you mean they disappear?”

“Exactly that. He fucks them once or thrice and then they’re gone,” Peyton said bluntly.

“What Peyton means,” Melody clarified, “is that he doesn’t date exclusively. The few women he’s been seen with aren’t from here. They’re all models or something he collects when gallivanting around the world.”

Even though I knew I shouldn't let their words affect me, I couldn't help re-evaluating myself in the mirror. Doubt began to seep in as I compared myself to these other women. I was a far cry from ugly, but I also wasn’t on their level and lacked their confidence.

“So, he’s never been engaged? That’s unbelievable. He’s in his mid-30s. ”

“None of them have. It's what makes the Escuro men so elusive and desirable. Any woman who captures a ring from one of them will be immediately catapulted into a life of luxury and security,” Peyton explained. “And just an FYI, you’re just as gorgeous as any of those other women."

“If not more so,” Melody added.

I appreciated their attempt to soothe my insecurities, but the doubt lingered. Melody's voice softened as she shifted the subject. "Have you taken your medication today?"

I nodded, then remembered they couldn't see me. "Yeah, I took it," I assured her. Checking the time, I saw it was already 6:20, and my nerves twisted tighter. "I have to go soon."

"Remember to share your location with us," Melody urged. "And don't let him take your phone. "

Right. I wasn't sure how I'd prevent that exactly, but I'd worry about it later if I reached that bridge. "It'll be in my clutch."

"Condoms. Bring them with you and make sure he wears one," Peyton layered in.

"Excuse me? I don't even have those, and that won't be necessary."

"She isn't sleeping with him, Peyton. Jesus," Melody interjected.

"Hey, I know the guy sticks to premium outlets, but still, better to be safe than sorry. You remember what else we said?"

I couldn't forget it. They'd been lecturing and advising me for the past forty minutes. "I know to be careful. And I know he isn't a nice guy. The last part is a given."

One of them scoffed.

“El, listen, he was brought up by one of the most despicable and revolting men of our time. He's currently in the process of inheriting an empire from this same vile man. He's involved in everything from laundering to kidnapping, trafficking, and drugs. That’s just some of the obvious stuff. And the police either work for him too or are too chicken shit to get involved. Saying he's not a nice guy is an understatement," Peyton drawled.

Now probably was not the best time to mention that he had given me a hand as a sign of, how did he word it? Devotion.

"Just to play devil's advocate, most guys around here don't fit the description of 'nice.' They operate by the rules of the underground. My father may not be handing out hands as gifts, but he's a crooked lawyer who for sure has blood on his. He does love my mom and me though," Melody pondered aloud.

"Yeah, Mel's right. Your dad was a ruthless boss. And you know my dad is good at hacking; he's probably gotten a few families killed. So, we're both right."

“I hate we can’t creep and watch over you. You’ve got to be careful, Elena," Melody pled .

“And whatever you do, don't be swayed by his dreamy eyes, charming dimples, and giant dick,” Peyton warned.

“Seriously?” I huffed exasperated. “I get it. I know to be careful,” I assured them just as I heard voices drifting up from below.

I withheld a sigh, knowing I needed to go down and face the first obstacle of the night—my uncle and grandmother. I ended the call after one last round of assurances. Seeing it was now 6:40, I couldn't delay any longer. I grabbed my clutch and gave myself one last once-over in the mirror before heading toward the door. Bracing myself, I stepped out of my room and began making my way downstairs.