Page 1 of Veiled Amor

ONE

“Time to banana and split this gilded prison.” – Lucia Mercado

Kismet. Fate. Serendipity. An act of God.

Whatever you called it, it came knocking on Lucia Mercado’s door that night, and she wasn’t one to look a gift horse in its eye. Eh, mouth. Whatever the saying was.

There was an excitable tremble to her chest she hadn’t felt in a long time.

But when one was escaping, there was no time for reminiscing about a time in her life where she committed a crime that only one other person knew about. Andhewasn’t inclined to talk to her about it either.

Clothes flew everywhere as she dragged them out of the tall, white dresser.

Be quiet.

She had to be quiet.

Though, she knew no one would hear.

The house she lived in was the size of two football fields with overlap. Her bedroom was on the east wing, and only the staff came across, but never this late.

It was hard to stay silent as she shoved dresses, panties, bras, and flip-flops into a roller case, because she wanted to bubble with laughter.

Lucia wanted to throw herself on the bed she’d slept in since she was a child, and howl with giddy joy.

Wait. She’d need more than flip-flops. She added sneakers and two pairs of ankle booties along with jeans and sweaters.

The dream played on a loop for some weeks.

Trampling through her subconscious, waking her with sweaty needs humming through her bloodstream.

It usually drove her crazy and put her in a dreadful mood for the rest of the day.

Not today.

Thank God her subconscious was a filthy bitch.

If not for the dream, she never would have stomped out of her bedroom to fetch a glass of water. And if not for the need for a cooling down, she wouldn’t have overheard a conversation her father was having in the echoing entrance hall.

A conversation about her.

Nicholas Cole, renowned Kingpin, cold-hearted criminal, and the wolf of Miami, was planning to use her as a bargaining chipagainin one of his business deals.

It was all Lucia heard before she sprinted back to her room on silent feet and began packing.

So much for fatherly love.

But that had always been in short supply ever since her mom died when she was four-years-old. She tried to tell herself she couldn’t miss what she’d never had. But it still stung to hear him talking about her like she was a thing.

Nicholas Cole’s love always came with a price, and for a long time she’d fought for it.

Her image, obedience and lack of opinion were top of his list.

Vanity meant a lot to Nicholas.

She couldn’t get fat, God forbid. Who would buy her then?

Someone always micromanaged Lucia for every morsel she put inside her mouth or the clothes on her back.

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