Page 103 of The Mob: Shio Cuppacio
I had yet to go into Shio’s bedroom, even though I knew where it was. Both of our rooms were on the first floor, but his was at the end of the hall in the opposite direction from mine. I knew because that’s where he would retreat to after our workouts. I hadn’t even stuck my head in because he kept the door closed. I’d only seen the rooms I had bypassed on the walk to the gym, and one of them was his office. Shio wasn’t the type to sleep in. He went to bed late but woke up early; that much I did know because, on the days I didn’t wake up to meet him for workouts, I could hear him past my room.
Inhaling slowly, I rounded the corner and stuck my head inside his office.Bumps formed all over my arms, and a light gasp escaped my lips. I knew there was a chance he was in his office, but I was still caught off guard by his presence. Sitting behind a large oak desk that held only a big Apple computer, a worn leather notebook about the size of his hands, a high-tech printer, and piles of money. Shio looked majestic.
His chocolate skin gleamed as his muscles flexed while he removed money from its pile and placed it on the machine. Pausing in his action, he looked up at me, and I stumbled back a bit. He’d seen me, so it was silly to try to run away. Instead, I stepped into the doorframe fully and kept my eyes on him as he kept his on mine, not stopping his hand movements. I couldn’t read his expression, but I was regretting coming in and intruding on him. I was already here against his wishes, and although he’d been extremely generous with the gifts, shelter, and clothing, I didn’t want to test my luck. The sooner he sent me back to Mexico City, the sooner I would be Mrs. Rodríguez, and I wasn’t ready for that just yet.
“Solana,” he called out in a raspy tone.
I had the simplest name a girl of my culture could have, yet the way it rolled off his tongue easily made me feel way more important than I was. Shio and I didn’t interact much, but when I was around him, I almost felt like a person. My father loved me that much I knew—but I knew what I was to him. I was a woman, so that made me a pawn, a chess piece, for only his benefit. Still, I loved the man who gave me life.He was only doing what every other cartel and mob boss did in Mexico. I’d learned that my duty was to my father and what he said, went. Here in Jagoda Bay, though, I had started to feel like a human being. Seeing these American mob women enjoy their riches in a way I never had had me wondering if all I’ve learned in my culture wasfalso(false). My father let me party around Mexico City with watchful eyes following my every move, but he never attempted to better me. Instead of pushing me to cultivate myself, he preferred that I remain out of sight. Shio had given me free rein, but still, I’d been confined to these walls because I didn’t know what to make of this situation.
¿Qué haces cuando nadie te ve?(What do you do when no one is watching?)
Seeing that Shio had yet to move his eyes from me, I acknowledged the reason for my presence. "I... I just wanted to see what it is that you were doing.”
Clearing my throat because my words came out hoarse, I swallowed the other words I’d already forgotten.
Shio continued to stare at me, letting his eyes dance from my wild curls to the bodycon lounge dress, to my manicured toes. His face gave no indication of emotion, and yet, I felt naked. I was happy when his eyes landed on my face again. This felt intimate, but I was sure I was imagining it. The most he’d looked at me in a desirable way was the night of the engagement party. Other than that, Shio kept everything platonic. And although I appreciated the fact that I wasn’t placed in a house with a manwho creeped me out by lusting over me, a part of me wished he’d show some sort of interest. I had been desired by men all my life, but being wanted by a man of substance was esteemed. The American boy had discipline. His body, his lifestyle, and the relationships he had with the people he loved demonstrated that.
“I’m working. You good?”
He intertwined his fingers and placed them on the desk in front of him while waiting for me to answer his question. Another thing he always did that I hadn’t seen the men back home do was maintain eye contact when speaking. I didn’t think I’d ever master the skill because it often felt awkward. With him, I had no choice but to match his energy because if I didn't, he would call me out on it.
“Just wanted to check in with you…”
I didn’t know what I really wanted. I just knew I wanted to get out of the room and thought that since it was the weekend, he’d let me join him when he left today. The mounds of green in front of him were something I had never seen before. My first time holding American money was when he gave me the rolls of cash before walking into the engagement party. I hadn't even known how to count it and needed some help when I made a small purchase that night. I knew pesos, but the American dollar was strange to me. It was the color of lush trees and fresh turf, and each bill shared the same hue, but the faces were different.
Using his thumb to flick his nose, he pushed away from his desk. “Solana, ven aquí (come here)”, he stated instead of asking.
My bare feet moved on their own accord and didn’t stop until I was standing behind his desk, next to the black leather chair he was sitting in. Holding his hand out for me to place mine in his, I concentrated on trying to steady my breathing from us touching. I could feel my nipples poking through my dress, and if he’dnoticed them, I wouldn't know because he hadn’t taken his eyes off my face.
Shio tugged me to his side, and I got the shock of my life when he lowered me into his lap. My entire body was rigid. I was as still as amaniquí(mannequin) as I sat on his muscular thigh. This was not a respectful action, and my thoughts matched the ambiance. I did not want to be the reason for Glow to lose her happiness. I needed to find the courage to ask Shio if she and he were a thing.
“Have you ever done this before?” he asked, breaking me from the many inner questions I had.
Pushing my thoughts aside, I melted as a delicious shudder heated my body as his sultry voice spoke directly into my ear. I couldn’t clench my legs closed to relieve the pressure because then, he'd feel it. He’d know that he had me wired up with just one sentence.
“Done… what?” I asked through bated breath. I needed clarity so that I could answer his question as truthfully as possible.
Leaning in, his solid chest pushed against my back. Our fragrances blended like the chords of a musical masterpiece composed by Manuel de Sumaya himself. A delightful shiver of wanting ran through me as I felt his steady heartbeat through my back. I allowed the abundance of saliva to slowly descend my throat as I waited for what was next. Shio and I had never been this close, not since the first night when he put the gun to my head, and just like that night, I was intrigued and frightened but not scared enough to get up off his fucking lap.
“I gave you some bread without realizing you probably don’t know how to count money. Have you done it before?”
Oh, that was what he was talking about: dólares americanos American dollars).
Inspecting the neat stacks of money assembled in front of us, trying to get my mind off anything other than the closeness of our bodies, I looked from pile to pile and shook my head. “No.”
“Aite…”
He scooted the chair closer to the desk so that my abdomen was lightly pressing against it. I was sandwiched between him and the wood, and hanging by a thread internally. Reaching around me, he picked up a stack of money. He must have visited his barber sometime this morning; I could smell the fumes that only a barbershop holds, whether it be Mexican or American. I had six brothers and a father. That was very much part of my upbringingI knew it all too well.
Using only one hand, he spread the green bills across the wood so that I had a clear view of each piece of green paper.
“This…” He placed his index finger on the desk just below the first bill. “This is a dollar. It equals one.” He reached for a few more of the same paper that displayed an ugly man in a white wig and spread them just below the original one. “How many dollars are right here?”
Pausing, I tapped into the American vocabulary side of my brain. “Cinco… I mean, five.”
“Yeah. This is five dollars.” He slid his finger over to the next bill that had the number five etched in the corner. “Five one-dollar bills are the same as one five-dollar bill.” He placed another five-dollar bill below that one. “How much is this?”
“Um… Ten?”
