Page 7 of Through You
My breath stops when I hear him speak. His voice has changed—it’s deeper, more masculine and commanding than I remember it. I turn to face him for the first time in a long while.
Artemis.
Three
Surprise!
ARTEMIS
“Oh, come on, how about a tiny smile?” Cristina begs while giving me a look of reproach.
I don’t answer. My focus is fixed on the road, this route I know so well. I’m not feeling the least bit enthusiastic about returning to the house of my childhood, a place filled with bitter memories.
Cristina, on the other hand, looks radiant and happy. She loves these kinds of occasions.
“Why so serious?”
I leave her question hanging, unanswered. I’m not in the mood to explain, and she takes the hint. “I hate it when you switch to extreme silent mode—it’s irritating.”
But she leaves me in peace, and moves to fix her makeup even though she looks great. She is stunning in a red dress that hugs her curves perfectly. Her red hair is loose and lightly curled on the bottom. I’m pretty sure that my mother will adore her. Cristina is elegant and comes from a very good family; to my mother, that’s all that matters. When my cell vibrates in the pocket of my pants, I place the Bluetooth piece in my ear and answer the call.
“Sir.” I hear the voice of David, my right-hand man, on the other end. “Sorry to bother you today, I know that—”
“David, get to the point.”
“Of course, sir.” There’s a pause. “We have a problem: the machinery department has reported an accident involving one of the bulldozers.”
Hidalgo Enterprises is one of the biggest construction firms in the country. We have offices in various states, and I’m in charge of headquarters. The bulldozers are the most expensive type of machinery, used for large-scale excavation. I let out a sigh before muttering my reply. “This must be good. What happened?”
“It was at the work site where they’re building the new canal.
From what I heard, the bulldozer slid off a side and landed in the water. They used a crane to retrieve it, but the machine is out of commission.”
“Shit,” I say, and Cristina looks at me with worry. “And its operator, is he okay?”
“Yes, sir.” I’m relieved. “Where would you like us to send the machine? Back to the manufacturer? Or should we repair it in-house?
“Send it to our repair shop. I trust our mechanics. And keep me posted.”
I hang up right after I hear his confirmation. I can feel Cristina’s eyes on me.
“Is everything all right?”
“Yeah. Just machinery issues.”
I park the car and unbuckle my seat belt.
“I have to say, I’m feeling pretty anxious,” she confesses, and laughs nervously.
I get out of the car and walk over to other side to open the door for her.
She grabs my hand and together we head to the main entrance.
My home . . .
In the past five years, I haven’t lived here, though I have made short visits. Yet I’m overcome by a feeling of familiarity, and my mind flashes to a set of black eyes that unsettle me every time I think of them.
“It’s very quiet. Aren’t we supposed to be attending a party?”
