Page 38 of Gilded Cage (Kovalyov Bratva 1)

“I don’t give a fuck what it is,” he snaps. His smile falters for a split second before it’s back in place again. “It makes you look like a forty-year old spinster.”

He stands there for a moment glowering, like he can’t decide which aspect of my appearance to insult next.

Before he can, someone approaches.

Papa’s demeanor shifts at once. Just like that, he’s back to being the consummate host. The perfect gentleman.

“Ah, Juan! Allow me to introduce you to my daughter, Esme.”

I recognize the man instantly.

Juan Garcia.A local senator with a filthy reputation. His name has been tied to several national scandals in the last few years, each uglier than the last.

He’s a stout man, eye level with me in my three-inch heels. He looks even sleazier in person than he did in the tabloids.

Curled mustache. Scraggly beard. Dyed-black hair that’s scarcely more than a few wisps like dying weeds on his shiny bald head.

“What a beauty,” he murmurs.

He ventures so close that I feel the need to scoot away.

Of course, I know that if I do, Papa will rage at me later for it. So I stay where I am and keep my good-daughter mask on.

“Señor Garcia, it’s lovely to meet you,” I say, offering him my hand.

He takes it, but he doesn’t shake it. He just holds my hand in both of his, one finger rubbing back and forth against my knuckles.

“You make me sound like an old man,” he says with a mousy smile. “I insist you call me Juan.”

“Juan, then.”

He moves even closer to me. My skin crawls.

“I hope to get to know you very well, my dear.” His voice is a raspy purr.

And then to my utter relief, he lets go of my hand.

But not before he leans in and gives me a kiss on my cheek.

I imagine a rash erupting where his lips have been.

“I’ll be in touch,” he tells Papa, before moving across the room.

We stand still, smiling politely until he’s gone.

Papa’s smile drops from his face as soon as Juan disappears into the next room. He looks at me pointedly, but he doesn’t have to say anything for me to get the drift.

That wasn’t a casual meeting.

It was a first step towards an arranged marriage.

I feel bile rise up in my throat. The urge to throw up is so strong that it takes me by surprise.

“I just… I feel a little sick.”

Papa’s eyes churn. “If you embarrass me tonight, girl, you will live to regret it.”

I swallow hard and stare right back at him.

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