Page 87 of No Sweeter Poison

“What do you mean by everything?”

“Lettie can stop worrying.” She cracks a grin. “She won’t be an aunt anytime soon.”

Right…that.

“About last night—”

She steps away and gently pushes me in the direction of the stairs. “I really think your sister needs your attention right now. Far more than I do.”

It takes everything in me not to hound her with questions. Firstly, why were they even talking about sexto begin with? Secondly, is Lettie upset, is she hurt, did some part of their “girl talk” confuse or sadden her? Lettie’s attachment to Dahlia isn’t lost on me. My sister shows love in ways that are very unique and distinct to her. From the day Dahlia showed up, Lettie has treated her like the female-figure in her life she’s always wanted. Dressing her up, running errands in the pueblo with her, sharing meals together.

I know it can’t be easy being the only girl surrounded by men all the time. Diego and I don’t exactly have a light touch when it comes to the female experience. When she got her first period I freaked out; we were in Greece on vacation and I called a doctor while Diego sent every guard on staff to the nearest drugstores where they bought every pad and tampon box on the shelf. What the Hell did either of us know about periods? We had to watch YouTube videos together to figure out how to attach a pad to the bottom of a pair of underwear.

Definitely not something Leticia would like to relive. But we did our best…I did my best. And maybe I should’ve had some sort of talk with her when she hit a certain age but she never showed any interest in romance, whether it be with boys or girls, so I assumed she either hadn’t found the right person or was somewhere on the aromantic spectrum like our cousin Chico.

Now she’s asking Dahlia about sex? I want to crawl into a hole and die.

I make my way upstairs and catch her before she enters her room.

“Hey, wait a second.”

She stops at the door and looks up.

“I want to talk to you.”

My sister nods but doesn’t say anything as she leads me into her bedroom.

Lettie has the biggest room in the house.

Not sure how she conned all of us out of the master but she lives like a queen up here with an en-suite bathroom, walk-in closet, and private balcony overlooking the terrace and pool. An alcove in the wall with a beautiful, blue and white tile pattern houses her vanity while her king-sized bed sits atop an elevated dais, covered in pillows, and surrounded by a white curtain. One might not think the girl who dabbles in poisons and fires a shot gun twice her size would have such feminine taste but Lettie hates being predictable.

She seats herself on the chaise by the fireplace and takes off her shoes. She never wears outside heels in the house—she has inside heels for that.

“I want to talk about Dahlia.”

Wonderful. No need to beat around the bush. “I agree.” I move to sit on the sofa across from her. “She told me—”

“I think you should stop sleeping with her.”

“Leticia.”

She ignores the warning in my tone. “It’s wrong. Do you understand that? We kidnapped her. She relies on us to keep her safe and you’ve gone and taken advantage of her.”

I startle, unable to comprehend what she’s said to me. “Did she tell you that?”

“Of course not, because she doesn’t realize it. Did you even take a second to consider the dangerous power imbalance between the two of you? No. And why would you? You’re a man and men so rarely ever think about those things.” Lettie tilts her head at me and during this split second of time she is so much like our mother that it’s hard to breathe. “Where in that equation do you see two consenting adults on an equal field? Because I don’t.”

She folds her hands and waits for me to say something but I can’t. There isn’t anything to say.

“I’m not saying you don’t care about her or that she doesn’t care about you. In fact, the two of you must be the most insane people on earth to have fallen in love under such circumstances,” she says. “Maybe in the beginning, in Barcelona, she said yes. But every time she said yes it was under completely different circumstances. If you truly care about her, if you want to keep her safe, then honor your word. Take Regina’s advice, go to Italy, and put an end to this for good. Otherwise, you’ll keep taking advantage of her.”

Part of last night’s debate was deciding whether or not to take Regina on her word. I’m not foolish enough to trust her blindly but I also know that Regina isn’t a liar. Whatever her reasons were for telling me, it doesn’t matter. Ibanez and Montenegro are in Italy this very moment but if I don’t take advantage now, they could slip through my fingers.

“Now or never, Alex. We may not get another opportunity like this again.”

I think about what Lettie told me for the rest of the day.

After dinner, I retreat to the safety of the study where I know no one will disturb me if I try and hide for a little while. I make a few calls to Barcelona and Abuelo, who’s in Italy right now, and begin making arrangements. First thing tomorrow morning the jet is taking me to Calabria where I’ll meet our Italian associate and old friend, Damiano Vellucci, great-grandson of Lorenzo Vellucci, who just so happens to owe me a favor. I’d prefer if Diego stayed behind with Lettie and Dahlia in case anything happens.