Page 9 of Revenge

“Is that a threat?” My green eyes narrow at him. He knows better. One word to my dad and he’ll be swallowing his own nuts.

“Consider it a friendly warning for future reference.” He does one last glance over my body, licking his lips as he does. A crease forms at the corners of his eyes, but he doesn’t say anything else. We stand there holding each other’s stares a beat longer before he opens the door a bit wider, allowing me just enough room to squeeze through.

I suck in a deep breath and slide past him as best I can without touching any part of him. One day I’ll be free of this life, of men like Marco who think they’re entitled to take whatever they want.

The second I step into the tiled foyer, I’m hit with a familiar smell. It’s one embedded in my favorite childhood memories, a mixture of spices and warmth.

“Hola,Mija.” My dad wraps me in a hug and kisses my cheek before pulling back. His chocolate brown eyes light up against his tan skin when he sees my mom’s bracelet on my wrist, but he doesn’t say anything about it.

“Hola,Papà.” I return his affection as Marco watches on from his corner. I consider telling my father about the earlier incident with Marco, but he looks genuinely happy. These moments are few and far between and I’ll be damned if I let a jackass like Marco ruin it.

“Tienes hambre? Maria made enchiladas. I know they’re your favorite.” He runs a hand through his wavy salt and pepper hair. At least my dad doesn’t shellac his with grease.

My lips spread into a wide smile. Times like these I’m reminded of the dad I grew up with, not the dangerous man he’s become. “Starving.” I nod and follow him into the dining room with Marco trailing behind us like the dog he is.

We sit at the formal dining table that’s big enough to seat twelve—my father at the head, me on his right, and directly across from me, the stepmonster herself. Her dyed blonde hair is pulled up into a tight bun and her makeup is pancaked onto every inch of her face, making her appear much older than she is. Marco walks past, taking his place in the corner and doing what he does best—watching.

“Nice to see you, Charlee.” My stepmonster attempts to smile, but I have a feeling the latest Botox injection isn’t allowing her to.

“Lola.” I press my lips together in a tight line and nod my head in a stiff greeting.

The servers bring out the food, saving me from faking further conversation with her, and I couldn’t be happier.

Dinner is silent and awkward. I hate it. It didn’t used to be like this, but things have changed between us since he married his latest trophy wife. I pick at my plate and manage to eat a couple of bites before my dad breaks the silence.

“How’s school?” he asks, in between bites of beans.

“It’s good.” Keeping my answers short and simple is for the best. School ismyspace, something that’s not a part of all of this, and I want to keep it that way.

“Nonsense.” He waves his fork at me. “You’re passing all your classes with straight A’s.”

Dread fills me as I lean back in my chair and stare at him. “You’ve spoken to all of my instructors?” Damn him. This is something I wanted to do on my own without the cloud of my father’s influence hovering over me.

“Sí.” He nods, like it’s the most normal thing in the world. “I had to make suremi niñawas in good hands.”

I fight the urge to scream at him because it would do no good. He’ll never understand. No one tells Diego Vega what to do, not even his own daughter.

“I remember the stress of exams. College was a tough time for me, too.” Lola nods her head and attempts to narrow her drawn on eyebrows, but they don’t move.

I snort. “College? Didn’t you just graduate high school last week?” It’s a bitchy remark, but I can’t help myself. When my temper flares all bets are off and my mouth runs away from me.

“Charlee.” My dad’s stern voice should scare me, but it doesn’t. I do have his temperament after all.

“What?” I toss my fork down onto my plate, lean back and cross my arms over my chest. “She’s the same age as me.”

“She’s also my wife,” he spits out with such venom I cradle my butter knife in my hand just in case I need it.

“Exactly.Yourwife. Notmi mamá,” I fire right back.Why the hell did I agree to dinner again?

He slams his fist down on the table so hard the dishes rattle, his chocolate eyes morphing into a sea of black. “Enough.Tu madre, God rest her soul, would be happy for me. Why can’t you be?”

My eyes flick toward Lola to find a fleck of humor behind her eyes, and I realize I’ve just been played by Botox Barbie. This round goes to her. She has her hooks in him deep, like a venomous snake, and she won’t be letting go anytime soon. This is something I will never get him to see, no matter how hard I try.

“Whatever.” I roll my eyes and sigh. “This is bullshit.”

“Careful,Mija. You’re lucky I’m letting you go to school, but I can take it all away just as fast.” There’s no missing the threat behind his words or the reminder that he still holds all the control over my life.

All of the oxygen is sucked out of the room, making me gasp for air. The shroud of tension pushes down on me like a lead weight. I’ve had enough family time for one night. I toss my napkin onto my plate and fight back the tears that want to fall. “Speaking of, I have a paper to write. Excuse me.” The screeching of my chair scraping across the marble floor is like fingernails raking down a chalkboard, but the faster I get out of here, the faster I can breathe again.

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