Page 42 of Guarded

“We’re nothing.” He replies, his eyes pinned on Alma.

“I don’t even know the guy,” Alma says coldly.

Efren glares at her, and I take it they are definitely not anything past enemies. When Efren is done glaring at Alma, he looks up at me, and his eyes soften.

“Ari, come, sit down!” he exclaims.

I look again between him and Alma, but she’s turned to talk to Mireya. Since I have no intention of hooking up with Efren, I ignore the whole thing and take the seat next to him. I just needed the chipotle hollandaise recipe. I wasn’t a homewrecker, but I was a foodie.

“Those egg benedicts you made. They were sooo good.” I begin.

“You liked those, huh?” He asks, his tone flirtatious.

“I loved them! I can’t stop thinking about them. You have to share your recipe.” I plead.

Efren is still looking at Alma, who is very much avoiding his gaze. When she gets up, he lets out a small chuckle. He thinks no one notices, but I do. Suddenly, I feel very uncomfortable.

“First, let’s have a drink, then I’ll get you the recipe.” He uses two fingers to summon a server over and orders two drinks.

One drink leads to three, and after the third, I realize that Efren is a natural-born scam artist. He shoos away anyone who comes and asks me to dance, which is likely to cause rumors among the guests.

I can already hear the whispers around me and the curious eyes. So many bored adults, unhappy with their own lives, held on to see what I was doing. Various YouTube gossip channels worked overtime to expose me or create a scandal. Noticing my anxiety, Efren stands to his feet and pulls me up with him.

“To the dance floor, Princess!” he exclaims, taking my hand in his and walking me to the dance floor.

It’s a cumbia, and he doesn’t pull me in but instead dances next to me like Juan did. Efren is not short, and he’s far from ugly. If I weren’t obsessed with my bodyguard, I would say Efren was the ideal guy I saw myself with. He is handsome and extremely fashionable. The vintage tan suit pants sit high on his hips with a black belt and an all-white dress shirt tucked in. His hair is combed back, and his facial hair is neatly trimmed. It was giving 1970s Pachuco coming out of Vogue magazine.

His personality is playful, and I could use a good laugh right now. We start walking back to the table when the song finishes but stop when we hear the beat—a zapateado.

My eyes widened, and I gave Efren a big smile. No one loves a Zapateado more than me. Efren flashes me a smile back before driving his heel into the floor. I follow his lead and let the music take over. There’s space between us at first, but then he extends his hand and pulls me to him.

He spins me over and over across the floor. His dancing skills were on the higher end of what I was used to. When he’s done spinning me, we dance separately in our respectful places. I am having too much fun to notice Axel striding toward me. I’m thrown off when he grabs me by the arm and pushes me to the exit.

“Axel, what the fuck!” I protest.

I don’t even look back. Who knows what scene Axel made pulling me off the dance floor? I didn’t want Efren to get into aconfrontation with my violent-fueled brother. Alma passes by us back into the dance hall with a cruel smile on her face.

“You’re drunk. Let’s go.” Axel commands.

“Axel, stop! I’m not drunk.”

“Axel, let her fucking go,” Thalia’s voice sounds from behind us.

She’s hot on our heels. Axel turns on his feet to face her.

“Stay out of it, Thalia.” He keeps pushing me to the lobby.

“Axel! Fucking stop!” I squeal.

“You know as well as I do, Thalia, if the Cuevas Family gets wind of her acting like a fucking slut the deal is off!” he growls.

Everything happens so quickly. From the time the insult flies out of his mouth to the moment, Thalia punches him in the face. I’ve gone through a million different emotions. The Cuevas Family? I replay the part where he calls me a slut, and my eyes begin to water. Axel stands down when he sees Silas coming for his wife.

“We’re not done, Ariella,” Axel says before buttoning his suit and entering the elevator. I move to a nearby bench and take a seat.

“Fuck him. Come on, Ari. Let’s go back inside,” Thalia says, moving to comfort me. I shake my head.

“Who is the Cuevas family? What was Axel talking about?” I ask her despite knowing deep down what this was about. I knew better than to expect anything less from Axel.

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