Page 81 of No Sweeter Poison

“Do you mind? Alejandro wants to speak with you.”

We’re still dressed from earlier this evening, Diego in a tux and me in this dress that suddenly weighs a hundred pounds. I get up and follow him out of the room. When we reach the doors to the study, I walk in on my own and he closes the door behind me.

Alejandro stands at the other end of the room, suit jacket abandoned on a nearby chair, with his waistcoat partially unbuttoned and his shirt sleeves pushed up to his elbows. Both hands behind his back, he watches as the logs of wood in the fireplace turn to ash. All the windows are open and breezy late summer wind passes through. I can’t imagine why he’d want the fireplace burning in August until he turns to face me and I see what else is burning inside.

Paper.

“I need to speak with you.”

I wander over to the desk and hover near the edge. Instinctively, my hands move behind me and reach for the first thing they touch—the handle of a letter opener.

“All right.”

“Don’t think it evaded my notice that you snuck past your guards tonight after I specifically asked you not to.”

“I got lost,” I say.

“Lost enough that you were able to find your way upstairs and watch as Jean Beauchamp was interrogated?”

I lose my footing and accidentally bump into the desk, knocking over the pencil holder and losing my grip on the letter opener.

“There are cameras everywhere, Dahlia.” He lifts a hand to the ceiling. “Everywhere. You blink an eye and I’ll know. Whether it be here or at El Rey, I’ll always know.”

“Are you trying to intimidate me?”

“No. I’m trying to get you to understand that when I give an order, it’s to be obeyed.”

“You’re certainly on a power trip this evening.” I attempt to keep my breaths even but it’s difficult when he steps around the leather sofa and makes his way towards me. “Did you and all the big bad men of the city smoke cigars and stroke each other’s egos until you—”

I finally grab hold of the letter opener. We’re toe to toe, face to face, and in the time it takes me to tighten my grip on the handle, he locks his fingers around the back of my neck and squeezes. The other hand reaches for my wrist and he yanks my arm around, holding the letter opener up to the light.

“Drop it.”

“No.”

It doesn’t matter. He applies enough pressure to my wrist and I release it anyway. In the firelight, his eyes burn black and forest green, the hazel hue shifting in ways I haven’t seen it before. There’s no mistaking the flash of hurt as he speaks. “I would never lay a hand on you.”

“How do I know that?” I push against him and towards the desk as much as I can, desperate to get away from him, but not brave enough to try. “You killed that man tonight.”

“Is that why you followed us? You wanted to watch me kill him?”

I drop my gaze, unable to look him in the eye. “I wanted to know what you were capable of. Tonight was different than the other times. Before, it was to either defend me or others. But this time you didn’t just kill someone. You tortured him, you…you brutalized him—”

“I don’t need to explain myself to you nor do I need to justify the manner in which I handle people who cross me.”

“And if I ever cross you?” I can’t stop the words as they leave my mouth. “If at night, while we’re sleeping, I held a gun to your head and you woke up before I could pull the trigger. What would you do? And if I pushed you away right now? Reached for that letter opener and raised it against you. What would you do?”

Alejandro remains silent but his hand moves up the back of my neck. My hair tangles around his fingers and he tightens his grip to the point of pain but I don’t stop him. Not even when he moves close enough to brush his lips against mine.

I whisper, “Would you do to me what you did to him?”

“No,” he tells me. “I would do so, so much worse.”

There’s still time to push him away. To say no. I realize there’s something wrong with me the moment I decide not to.

“Are you afraid of me?”

“Should I be?”