Page 10 of Making the King

Shaking the memories from my head, I look out the window. The sky is clear, making it all too easy to see the stars as they shine so brightly.

“Te amo mi corazón,” I whisper into the night. “I love you so much your absence hurts.”

So far, I’ve done a good job of avoiding certain things in my mind. Like, who am I without her? She was my heart, my conscience—everything that was good inside me died with her.

The price for Julietta’s freedom was my soul, which is forever blackened.

I feel my eyes misting, but I don’t allow any tears to escape. Julietta told me to be strong, to never bend to anyone, and to take control of my destiny.

“No one can keep someone like you down, Cara. Give them hell and then get the fuck out of there. Promise me you’ll find a way to be happy.”

“I promise,” I murmur as I look up at the stars.

Unconsciously, I close my hand around the cross hanging from the necklace my sister gave me before she died. I still don’t know how she managed to keep it in prison without anyone knowing.

A sinister smile stretches my lips as I recall the two women who tried to take it from me. Needless to say, one of them didn’t live to tell the tale, and the other never bothered me again.

I reach for the cigarettes on the floor and light yet another one. The ashtray at my feet is already full, so much so the ashes I flick into it land on the floor. The dutiful daughter still living somewhere deep inside me wants to get up and empty it, but that’s not happening. No way in hell am I risking waking my darling husband.

With a sneer on my lips, I look down at the laptop resting on my legs. When Rochus first mentioned I’d be doing bookkeeping, I hoped there’d be an easy way to get my hands on some of their money so I can get the hell out of here. Sadly, I’m only given access to the fucking expenses, which is hella boring.

Since I’ve already completed the shit I’m expected to do, I take full advantage of having the laptop and start snooping through the other docs and sheets. It only takes me a few minutes of looking at the strip schedule to spot an error.

“Estúpido,” I mumble to myself.

One of the girls—or Diamonds, as they call them—is listed for a shift on a day they’ve also given her time off.

“Do you ever fucking sleep?” I stiffen as Rochus turns to his side and switches on the bedside lamp.

Despite my best intentions of ignoring him, I look up from the laptop. The white sheet he clutches when he’s deep in slumber is barely covering him, so his torso and one leg are on full display.

My heart skips a beat as I involuntarily take in his toned physique. He really isn’t bad to look at. Such a shame all those muscles and enticing grooves are wasted on someone who was willing to buy and marry a child.

I don’t actually care about my age, that’s the least of his offenses as far as I’m concerned. Whether I was sixteen or twenty-five, he bought me, and that’s something I can never forgive, let alone forget.

Rochus clears his throat, and as I look into his grinning face, I know he notices me checking him out.

Puta.

“None of your business,” I sneer, finally remembering to answer his question. “And if you think I’m going to let my guard down around you, you’re badly mistaken.”

He nods like that’s what he expected me to say. “Are you at least going to shower and change your clothes today?”

I want to shrink in on myself, embarrassed he’s basically telling me I stink. He’s probably right. It’s been three days, and I’ve barely eaten or drank anything, trying to avoid the bathroom as much as possible.

It’s not just that I can’t look at bathroom tiles without remembering my sister, it’s yet another time where I’d be vulnerable.

“Come on,” Rochus says, sitting up on the bed. “Is there… I mean… do you need help to shower?”

When my expression turns murderous, he immediately holds his hands up.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he rushes out.

Pretending not to notice the curious way he looks at me, I refocus on the laptop. I highlight the error in the schedule and leave a comment with a suggestion of who can fill in without it messing with the other schedules.

Within seconds, there’s a reply to my comment from someone named Cain. Curious about who he is, I click on his profile picture. Though he looks a little older, it’s clearly the guy who was at the church on my fucking wedding day, the one paying my dad.

Good catch, Cara. I owe you!

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