The Queens: Scarred Queen

Chapter 4

Casey shuddered and turned away, satisfied that they were finished. She strode toward the study door and waited for Alonzo to open it for her. He joined her and reached past her, his hand brushing the bruises of her arms ever-so-slightly. She stepped quickly to the side and glanced swiftly under her lashes at the man that had stood next to her side for the better part of a decade. She didn't understand him. Sometimes she thought he hated her guts and sometimes… she didn't think he hated her at all.

Alonzo knocked and waited for Ignacio's summons before ushering her inside. Casey entered the large, opulent room and took a seat across from the husband she hadn't seen in a week, not even in passing. Partially because she avoided him like he had herpes, rabies and bird flu all rolled into one. Plus, their schedules differed significantly and Casey lived reclusively, choosing to take most of her meals in her room. Unfortunately, Ignacio would insist on these meetings where she would have no choice but to see him. He was currently on the phone so she waited patiently for him to finish, crossing her legs and folding her hands over her knees.

She allowed her gaze to trail over the expensive, masculine furnishings that outfitted his office, declaring him mafia royalty among those men lucky enough to enter into his exalted presence. She knew better than to let him see the hatred in her eyes as her gaze flowed over the items in loathing. She'd had no hand in the furnishings as a wife might. She cared little for the things he chose to surround himself with. He cared even less for the things she might enjoy.

Ignacio ended his call and Casey felt the physical shift of his focus on her body like an actual touch, though she was the untouchable princess in his elite tower. Her gaze was locked on a statue that he kept on a pedestal a few feet from his desk. It was the horrific depiction of a cherub with a bow and arrow. Casey knew it must have been insanely expensive, but she didn't understand what else it could possibly have going for it.

Ignacio brought his open palm down heavily on the desk, startling her attention back to him. It had taken years of practice, but her heart no longer sped up in trepidation at his cold, twisted visage. That face. The one that drifted along the edge of her nightmares without ever stopping to feature too closely. Mostly because she didn't have enough respect left to be truly scared of him. Unlike that clown from IT. Now he was worthy of featuring in a nightmare or two.

Ignacio was twenty-three years older than Casey and she thought he looked every one of those years right now. Not from stress or worry, but from self-satisfied overindulgence. His dark, silver-threaded hair was filled in with surgical plugs and slicked back from his scalp in a sharp widow's peak. His light grey suit was not well complimented by the awful wide-collared flower-patterned shirt he wore underneath. The entire ensemble would have cost as much as the gaudy desk she was forced to sit across from. She rather thought he should've at least looked in a mirror before leaving his bedroom. He tried so hard to look old-school mafia. She didn't know how all of his associates didn't just laugh in his face before turning a gun on him. God, how she hated the man with every fibre of her being.

His lips curved in a cool smile of welcome. As though he were happy to see her. Of course, the smile didn't reach his eyes. It had never reached his eyes, not even in the early days of their marriage. "Casey, my dear. Thank you for coming on such short notice."

She nodded her head, not returning the smile. "Of course," she said quietly, her hand twitching involuntarily. She clasped her hands together, to stop the tremor before his eyes fell to her lap. As if she had a choice. If Ignacio demanded his wife meet with him then she made time for him, no matter what she was currently doing.

"What are your plans for the week?" he demanded.

His cold eyes roved over her. His look was possessive, but not in a passionate, caring sense. No, he was picking her apart piece by piece. Checking her for faults or flaws. Making sure the merchandise wouldn't embarrass him. She resisted the urge to shift in her seat, like a child under inspection. She knew exactly what he would see anyway; her appearance was flawless. She wouldn't have it any other way. If he had no complaints then he wouldn't have a reason to interview her.

She also knew he didn't actually care what her plans were for the week. He received a schedule of her calendar every Sunday and it never deviated. Lunch on Tuesdays, shopping on Fridays. She clung to the mansion with stubborn tenacity the rest of the time, like it was some kind of replacement family. She wouldn't even bother with lunch or shopping except that it was expected.

She forced herself to meet his dark, empty gaze once more and said in a level voice, "I have lunch with Maya Steel, Elvira Montana and the rest on Tuesday and then shopping plans on Friday."

"Huh," he grunted, his eyes narrowing.

What exactly did he want from her? Those were her exact plans. She never deviated from them. The only time her schedule changed was when Ignacio changed it up himself. Yet he looked at her as though he thought she might be lying to him. She tried to force her frozen brain to move, to think about what his motivations might be for this meeting. It wasn't an easy task. She'd learned from her years with him that it was easiest… or best… to just turn her thoughts off and flow in and around his life with robotic ease. He paid less attention to her that way.

Plus, the medications his doctor prescribed for her headaches helped her maintain this sense of fuzziness. They didn't seem to help much with the pain though, and she'd tried to stop taking them when she was younger and feistier, which hadn't gone over well with Ignacio. Now the meds were like an ally in her quest for invisibility.

He placed his elbows on his black marble -topped desk and drew his chair in. Folding his fingers in a way that made the light glint off his rings and throw reminders of his position of privilege and power in all directions. Ignacio stared at her with a mixture of undisguised longing and hatred that could easily have equalled her own. That look almost rocked her back in her chair. He usually took pains to mask his every expression, which was probably how he'd managed to avoid a grisly death from his many enemies despite his rampant greed. Ignacio wasn't completely stupid, much as she wished to imagine otherwise.

Casey was convinced that the only reason she wasn't dead yet by her husband's order was because he still wanted her, despite several years of growing impotence on his part. That, and she still held value to him as a figure of beauty. Something to lord over his friends and bodyguards. She didn't like feeling like a trophy on his arm, a pretty doll that other men could watch, but never touch. She wasn't allowed to speak when they were out in public together because she didn't have sufficient control over her words. Perhaps a by-product of her accident, or maybe it was just who she was; Casey didn't have enough memories left to know for sure, but she rarely controlled the words before they popped out of her mouth and thus often chose silence. Or silence was chosen for her by Ignacio. Thus, she was a kind of broken doll, mute and frozen at his side.

"There's a man," he began, his voice drawling the words, while his eyes took in every micro-expression on her face.

Panic threatened to well up and ruin her carefully controlled exterior. If there is one thing she knew to the core of her being, it was that Ignacio expected fidelity. She shook her head and quickly denied, "You know my every move, Ignacio. There's no man."

He shook his head and waved his hand impatiently over his desk, indicating she should shut up immediately. She closed her mouth, pressing her lips together and dropping her chin. He'd not had to follow his words with a physical correction in years. She'd learned from a young age what was expected of her.

After a few seconds of silence, he continued. "This man is important… very important, Casey. He's coming here, to our country to inspect my operations and make sure our association is running smooth. My business here depends on his continued benevolence." She struggled not to frown down at her lap, to keep her expression smooth. It was very unlike Ignacio to admit that his business might hinge on another person. And since when did he discuss business with her? In front of, yes, because she was invisible to him, but never with. "He seems to have taken a liking to you, my love. My sources tell me he has even discreetly looked into you, tried to find out about your past. Of course, he has found nothing, but I'm of a mind to use this information to my advantage."

Casey bit her lip to stop the dangerous rush of breath that might give away an emotion. She slowly, steadily stiffened her shoulders and lifted her head to look at her husband. She forced herself to ask the question that she knew could get her killed, either by Ignacio himself or by this mysterious man that would be her husband's equal, or worse. "And what do you want me to do about this man, Ignacio?"

He smiled coldly across the desk at her. "You will be nice to this man, Casey, and make him happy while he's in Miami."