Page 56 of Deception & Desire

“Mia. Please, honey.” He crumbles a bit as he tries to follow me.

But I shake him off. “I need you to leave me alone for a bit, okay? No more meddling. No more gifts, no more trying to pay my rent. I don’t need it. I never needed it. You can just leave me alone.”

“I’m your father?—”

“You nevertrustedthat I’d be able to handle myself. Never. I build a life for myself on the back of my own skill and my own strengths and my own work, and you think you have the right to just fly in and…and…wave a wand and put me in a safe little box away fromeverythingI ever loved.”

I swallow hard and look him dead in the eyes. “Fuck you, Dad.”

The bass thrumsin the air before we even reach the club’s entrance, a deep, pulsing heartbeat that seems to shake the pavement under my heels.

Neon lights flicker above the doorway, casting the word “Inferno” in blood-red letters against the slick black sky. The line stretches halfway down the block, a sea of people eager to drown their troubles in music and tequila.

“Are you sure about this?” I glance sideways at Carmen, who’s practically vibrating with excitement.

Her dark curls tumble over her shoulders and her red dress clings to her like a second skin. She looks every bit the confident cartel princess she is, but there’s a softness in her smile that’s pure Carmen.

“Absolutely,” she says, looping her arm through mine. It feels so oddly familiar now. “I needed to thank you for the catastrophe that was the beach house, and you look tense as shit. It’s a win, win.”

It had been slightly strange to receive her call a week ago. At first, I thought she wanted me on another job, but as it transpired, she’d just wanted to talk.

It started with her just trying to process what had happened at the beach house. But then she started to complain about Ivan, which turned into worrying that Ivan had gone missing. Then, inexplicably, she was asking me about school and my goals, and my life.

In the boring monotony that had become my life, Carmen had become something of a highlight.

Especially as Leon hadn’t been back to the brownstone all week. Not that I’d been checking (I had). I hadn’t really confronted him about anything after the blowout with my father.

He’s been busy ever since Ivan “went missing”, and I’ve honestly appreciated the space.

Somehow, this week of distance felt easier than the last. I think knowing that there would be a conversation at the end of it made it easier.

One where I apologize for thinking the worst of him.

One where, maybe, we can start to fix something that shouldn’t have been so broken in the first place.

It feels like something…important. Something to take our time over. And I can’t deny having a week to get my thoughts together has done wonders for my general anxiety over the entire situation.

“Fine, but if you get into trouble, I’m hauling your ass out of here,” I jest back.

As we approach the bouncer, Carmen barely spares him a glance. He steps aside immediately, lifting the velvet rope with a nod—the perks of her last name.

Inside, the club is pure, glorious chaos. The music is deafening, a thundering beat that reverberates through my chest.

Colored lights slice through the darkness, flashing across a packed dance floor where bodies move in a hypnotic rhythm. The air smells of sweat, alcohol, and just a hint of danger.

Carmen drags me straight to the bar, leaning in to shout her order to the bartender. “Two shots of tequila and two margaritas!”

“Carmen—”

“No arguments!” She grins, pressing a shot glass into my hand. “We’re celebrating.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Celebrating what?”

“Us. Surviving. That we’re still breathing.” She clinks her glass against mine. “That’s enough, don’t you think?”

I don’t argue. I pretend to down the shot in one go, wincing as if the burn is setting a fire in my chest when in reality, I dumped the liquid on the floor. Carmen is too preoccupied with her own shot to notice.

For the next few hours, we lose ourselves in the wonderful chaos.

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