THE MAFIA KING'S LITTLE PET

Chapter 7

The next morning, Esmeralda woke up to a dull, throbbing ache in her head. She blinked a few times, her vision clearing as she adjusted to the soft morning light streaming through the windows. It took her a moment to realize she wasn’t in her room. The bed was unfamiliar, softer than what she was used to, and the scent of rich leather and cigar smoke hung faintly in the air.

She sat up slowly, her eyes scanning the room. Her wrist was bandaged, the pain dulled but still present, and her clothes had been changed into a soft silk nightgown. Her breath hitched. This wasn’t her doing, and the last thing she remembered was collapsing in the rain.

Then it hit her, Santiago.

She had been here before, years ago, when things between them had been different. Before Diego, the web of lies and deceit had suffocated her life. The room was mostly the same, though now it felt colder, more distant. The walls, once a place of solace and passion, now loomed around her like an unfamiliar fortress.

Esmeralda ran a hand through her tangled hair, her fingers brushing against her scalp, and froze. There was a presence in the room. She could feel eyes on her.

Her heart raced as she glanced around, her gaze landing on a shadowy figure seated in an armchair by the window. He sat there quietly, almost blending into the dim morning light. Santiago, his posture casual but his gaze intense, had been watching her. A lit cigarette smoldered between his fingers, the thin trail of smoke swirling up toward the ceiling.

"Morning," he greeted his voice low, almost a growl.

Esmeralda swallowed hard, the sound of his voice pulling her back into the present. "Morning," she whispered back, her throat dry. She glanced down at her wrist and then at the nightgown. “I... uh, I didn’t expect to wake up here.”

Santiago took a long drag from his cigarette, his eyes never leaving hers. “You passed out last night. The doctor came to see you, and checked your injuries.”

Esmeralda nodded, biting her lip. "And my clothes?" she asked, feeling a slight unease wash over her.

Santiago exhaled the smoke slowly, watching her reaction carefully. “The maids changed you. Not me,” he added pointedly, his tone making it clear he wasn’t going to apologize for anything. “You were drenched, and your wrist was in bad shape. I had them clean you up.”

Esmeralda felt a wave of relief, but it was quickly overshadowed by the weight of her reality. “I’m sorry for showing up like that. I didn’t know where else to go.”

Santiago leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on his knees, his dark eyes locking onto hers. "I thought as much. Diego?" he asked, though it wasn’t a question.

Esmeralda closed her eyes, trying to block out the wave of emotions that threatened to overwhelm her. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words felt stuck. How could she explain it all? How could she tell him about Diego’s lies, the fear that had consumed her, the betrayal that still burned inside her?

“I couldn’t stay there,” she finally whispered. “He… Diego… he was using me. I found out what he’s been doing. The lies, the fake contracts. And I caught him with his supposed secretary—” Her voice broke, the memory of Diego’s mocking laughter flooding her mind. “He didn’t care. He laughed like I was nothing. And then—” She choked back a sob.

Santiago’s jaw tightened. The storm brewing in his eyes grew darker. He had never trusted Diego Morales, and now his suspicions were confirmed. Diego hadn’t just betrayed their business deals, he had broken Esmeralda as well. That was something Santiago couldn’t forgive.

“I saw the files you were carrying,” he said calmly, but his voice was laced with fury. “They’re dangerous, Esme. You have to know that.”

Esmeralda nodded. “I do. That’s why I had to run. If Diego knows I have them—”

“He’ll kill you because I am certain he knows,” Santiago finished for her, his voice flat.

Silence stretched between them, the weight of the situation settling like a thick fog. Esmeralda looked down at her bandaged wrist, her heart heavy with regret and fear. She had never wanted to drag Santiago into this mess, but now it was too late. She had nowhere else to turn, and Santiago was the only person who could help her.

“I don’t know what to do,” she admitted softly, her voice trembling.

Santiago stood up from the chair, his tall frame casting a shadow over her. He stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray on the nightstand, his movements deliberate and controlled. When he spoke, his voice was firm, leaving no room for argument.

Santiago took a few steps toward her, his expression hardening with thought. “You can’t hide here forever, Esme.” His voice was cold but steady, and though his words were harsh, there was a trace of something else beneath, concern, perhaps. “Your parents… They need to know. You can’t disappear from your life without telling them.”

Esmeralda’s heart sank. Her parents. She hadn’t even considered them in her frantic escape from Diego. The thought of facing them now, after everything, made her stomach twist in knots. She shook her head, her voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t… They won’t help me. Not now.”

Santiago frowned, his eyes narrowing. “What do you mean?”

“They disowned me,” Esmeralda confessed, her voice breaking slightly. “My father… he told me I was dead to them when I married Diego. He warned me about him, and I didn’t listen. They wouldn’t understand. They’ll just say it’s my fault.”

Santiago’s jaw tightened, his fists clenching at his sides. He knew her father well enough, an arrogant, powerful man who had never approved of anyone who didn’t fit into his rigid idea of success. But still, Santiago wasn’t one to let emotions cloud his judgment. “So, what’s your plan, Esme? Hide here until Diego finds you?”

“I don’t know!” Esmeralda’s voice cracked with desperation as she looked up at him, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “I just need time. Time to figure things out, to get my revenge. I can’t let him win, Santiago. I can’t let him get away with this.”

Santiago stood there for a moment, staring at her with a mix of skepticism and something else, something deeper. He had seen this side of her before, the fiery determination, the defiance, but this was different. She wasn’t just angry, she was scared, and it was clear that she was grasping at anything to survive.

“You’re asking a lot, Esme,” he said finally, his voice calm but firm. “You want to stay here, hide from Diego, and get revenge? This is the last thing I need right now.”