Page 50 of Cryptic Curse

It’s new…and tiny and revealing.It’s candy-apple red, and the fabric shimmers as it catches the light.The plunging neckline and thigh-high slit promise lots of skin.Lots ofmyskin.

I stare at it, bile rising in my throat.

“Señorita Daniela, your father instructed that you wear this tonight,” Consuelo tells me, her gaze lowered to the floor.

Why isn’t she looking at me?Is she afraid I’ll see the pity in her eyes?

My hands shake as I reach for the dress, the glossy fabric cool against my skin.

Once I’m dressed, I stand in front of the full-length mirror, taking in the woman staring back at me.This dress is not me.The high heels are not me.The heavy make-up is not me.

This isn’t my life.

Except that it is.

Just then, my father enters my room without knocking.

“Ah, Daniela,” he says with an approving nod.“You look stunning.”

I can’t meet his gaze.Instead, I focus on a spot on the floor.

“Let’s go,” he says, offering his arm to me.

I take a deep breath before placing my hand in the crook of his elbow, and leave my room.

As we walk down the grand staircase, my father’s grip on my arm is firm, as if he knows I’ll run if given the chance.

That’s all I can think about.

Running.

Escape.

Especially when we reach the bottom of the stairs.

“Smile, Daniela,” my father whispers into my ear.

So I do.I force the corners of my mouth to turn upward, painting a picture of happiness that couldn’t be further from what I actually feel.

In the doorway to the parlor stands a man I’ve seen before.

One of my father’s colleagues.Diego Vega.

He’s tall with graying hair, probably in his fifties or sixties.

I’m only fifteen, but I know that doesn’t matter to him or to my father.

“Ah, Diego,” my father says as we approach the man.

Diego turns to look at us, his eyes lighting up at the sight of me.“Daniela.”He steps forward to pull me into a hug that lasts a little too long.

It feels invasive.Aggressive, even.I don’t like it.

“You’re even prettier than I remember,” he whispers into my ear before letting go.

A shiver of disgust passes through me, but I suppress it quickly.Over the years, I’ve become a master at hiding what I really feel.

“Thank you, Señor Vega,” I say as I force myself to meet his gaze.

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