Page 49 of Knot Yours

“I wish… I can’t. You have to know that I want you more than anything, Austin, but I have to make the choice my parents were unwilling to. Since I can’t escape this life, I choose to protect you from it. You may not understand, but it’s the best gift I can give you. Goodbye, Austin.”

Marisol

“Please don’t call again.”

I hit the button to end the call and slump into my father’s chair. My heart shatters as I wipe the tears from my face. Seconds later, the heavy office door swings inward, and I rush to compose myself. My father’s footsteps approach the desk, but I don’t even lift my head.

“This man must have gone to great lengths to find you. No one should have been able to get that number.”

Without looking up, I nod. “Austin is a fierce and resourceful protector. He is worried about me.”

I regretted the words as soon as I spoke them. My father will know too much now. He proves it by asking, “If you feel so strongly for this protector, why are you letting Cruz court you?”

He’s disappointed, and I don’t have it in me to yell at him again. I don’t feel anything anymore. I’m numb. Sighing, I answer, “My life is here. Austin is in Virginia, which is not safe for me. I’m accepting Dario for the same reason I came home. For protection.”

“What will Dario protect you from that I cannot?”

Being an orphan. Pushing out of his chair, I stand on unsteady legs. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

I leave my father’s office and walk to my room, where I cry myself to sleep.

A gull squawking past my window wakes me sometime later. My eyes feel puffy, and my spirit is no less broken than before. I need to get out of this room, this house.

I know I’ll be watched, but I need to see the water and put my feet in it, if only to pretend I have some semblance of freedom. If I thought I could, I’d swim out to sea and catch a boat off the island—foolish, wishful thinking.

My meager belongings don’t include a swimsuit. When Austin whisked me away to his house, I didn’t see the need to pack one. So, I find some athletic shorts and a crop top from the things I left here years ago.

I’m quickly running out of clothes since most of mine are back in Virginia. Apá would take me shopping if I asked, but shame keeps me from making the request. As much as I don’t want to, I reach for my phone to contact Dario.

I won’t call him since I loathe the sound of his voice. A text will be sufficient. I left Virginia with only an overnight bag. I need clothes. Can one of your men take me shopping tomorrow?

Though I can’t see him, I feel Dario’s grin at me asking his permission for anything. Of course. I’ll pick you up at noon. We’ll go to lunch, and I’ll take you shopping.

My blood runs cold at the thought of being near him again. “Mierda.”

I wouldn't have asked if I’d known Dario would be my chaperone. Now it’s too late. My phone slips from my fingers onto the soft bedding, and I drag my feet to the framed mirror.

I lift the hem of my shirt, dropping it to the floor. Dark bruises mark my skin, left by Dario last night. I gently probe the tender areas, knowing I’m looking at a picture of my future.

The charity event at the Cruz estate was like many I’ve attended through the years. Endless champagne flowed, delivered on trays by sharply dressed servers. Refined sharks in tuxedoes circled the floor, making their best effort to appear more affluent than the next. Women in fancy gowns weren’t in short supply, all serving as arm candy for the wealthy and influential men in attendance.

My role was to be like them, the demure trophy catch for one of Puerto Rico’s most eligible bachelors. Throughout the evening, if I weren’t smiling bright enough, laughing happily enough, or sufficiently engaging during introductions, Dario would pinch or dig his fingers into my ribs. He was careful to only abuse areas where the fabric of my dress would hide the marks.

The bruising on my legs came from the ride home. I sat as far away from Dario as possible in the limo. That was until he grabbed my thigh and forced me closer. I fought against his wandering hands, suffering for my efforts.

If it weren’t for me being delivered back to my father’s house, I’m sure my refusal would have been met with much more severe punishment. A black eye, choke marks on my neck, or a split lip. Eventually, Dario will win, and when I wear his ring, he won’t have to behave for appearance’s sake.

The crop top and shorts still fit when I pull them on, but they fail to hide the ugly bruises. Dario Cruz will kill me one day.

The bleak outlook of my future saps my desire to sit on the shore. I no longer want the reminder of what I lost and will never have again. I rip off the revealing clothes, pull my leggings and tunic back on, and sit on my balcony until time to join my father for dinner.

I’m quiet during the meal. At least a hundred times, I consider telling Apá the truth, but that would start a war, one I would surely lose, no matter the outcome. I’m not giving up yet, but if I’m going to get out of Puerto Rico, I’ll have to figure out a way to do it by myself.

The sparkling chandelier casts dozens of tiny rainbows on the white tablecloth. I’m mesmerized by the sight and happy to be hypnotized by the glittering light.

“You’re quiet,” Apá says softly.

I didn’t miss the grief in his voice. I hurt him deeply. Though I’m sorry, I can’t take the words back. It’s better just to move on. “I’ve been thinking.”

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