There is a part of me that hopes Santos will be back at the hotel when I arrive. I tell myself it’s because he’s the devil I know a tiny bit more than the others, the lesser of all the evils. I’m not sure that’s the truth, though. Because I’m feeling something new with him—something akin to hope.
Regardless, that hope is short-lived because the only person to greet me apart from a soldier I don’t recognize is Ana. She’s sitting in the middle of the couch with much the same expression as she wore earlier, her arms still folded across her chest. The only difference is she’s holding a glass of wine in her hand. She swallows the contents when she sees me. I get the feeling she’s been sitting here seething all this time.
“Had fun?” she asks with a smile so fake she’s not even trying to mask her true feelings.
“No, actually, I didn’t. Thanks for asking.” A glance at the bottle tells me it’s almost empty. I’m going to assume she drank it all. I walk past her to my bedroom only to find the door open. I’m pretty sure I closed it before I left. I peer inside but don’t see anything amiss. There are no drawers overturned. The bed isn’t tossed apart. But when I turn back to Ana, the smug expression on her face tells me she has been inside. “Did you look through my things?”
“Why would I do that?” she asks demurely.
I almost start to argue with her, but what’s the point? I open my mouth but close it again and just shake my head. She’s not worth it. I walk into the bedroom. I plan on closing the door and locking it behind me, but she’s there before I can with her foot jammed between the door and the frame.
“What? What were you going to say?” Ana asks.
“Nothing. Get out, Ana.”
“He’s mine.”
“Who? Caius? Yes, he’s all yours. Congratulations. You really snagged a winner in Caius Augustine. Get. Out.”
“He’s the older brother. He should have what Santos has.”
“What?” I shake my head. “You’re drunk. Go to bed.”
“Yes, Your Royal Highness. All high and mighty just like you used to be. You’d think you’d have learned your lesson, Mad Elena.”
I look at her, and maybe I’m too angry to be hurt, or maybe I’ve just gotten better at putting fury first because that’s the predominant emotion right now. Hearing her call me that again makes me angry. “This isn’t high school anymore. Your friends are gone. It’s just you all alone, just like I was all those years. And you’re fucking pathetic. Grow up.”
“Me? I’m pathetic?”
I take a deep breath in and remind myself it’s not worth it. She wants a fight. I’m not going to give it to her. I turn and cross the room to the bathroom. If she wants to follow me in, fine. But then I stop because there, tossed over the back of a chair, is a jacket I recognize. With a gasp, I rush to pick it up. It’s his. I have no doubt. When I bring it to my nose, I can smell his scent on it. But I smell more, too.
“Is he here?” I ask, spinning to face Ana.
She grins. “He was. But he had to rush out. I guess his wife isn’t that important to him.”
“What the hell is wrong with you?” I try to push past her, but she stands squarely in front of me, blocking my path.
“Let me tell you something about the Augustines, Mad Elena. You may be valuable now, but that won’t last. They’ll get what they need from you sooner rather than later and then you’re gone.”
“And what? You’ll take my place? Is that why you colored your hair to match mine? Is that why your makeup looks just like mine? The lipstick, car-crash red, right?”
Her face flushes, and I know it’s true. The thought of it just makes me feel sorry for her, though, because she is pathetic and it’s sad.
“You know what? I don’t want any of this. I never did. I don’t deserve it, and believe it or not, neither do you and I mean that in the best way,” I say.
Before she can answer, I walk into the bathroom and lock the door. I switch on the tap and take a few minutes to level my breathing and my heartbeat. I look at myself. With the back of my hand, I wipe away the deep red of my lipstick. Car-crash red. It smears along my cheek, and I think how apt the name is. I look like a car crash.
My eyes grow moist because what happened with Ana and I all those years ago didn’t have to happen. Even though I understood why she turned on me, it was something completely out of my control. But when her father lost a chunk of money to mine, she punished me. It didn’t have to be the way it was. We could just have been friends. I wanted that. I want it now. Not with her. She can never be that. But I want a friend. I don’t think I’ve ever had one, not really.
But I stop myself there. I’ve had enough pity parties for myself over the years, and I’m done with those. I wipe away the tears that fall, not caring that I’m smearing eyeliner because none of that is worth thinking about. You can’t change the past, and I’m fine without friends.
I have Odin and he has me, and we’re all each of us needs. I look again at the jacket in my hands, bring it to my nose. His cologne, the one I know intimately, is layered with cigarette smoke and alcohol and something else. Perfume?
Just then, I hear the deep rumble of his voice and I don’t want to think about what feels like hope swelling in my chest when I do. I pull the door open just in time to see Santos stalking into the bedroom, Val on his heels.
“Santos!”
He stops when he sees me, looking confused as he takes in my dress. Had he forgotten what tonight was? I lift my gaze to Val’s, and he looks worried. I realize why that is when Santos stalks toward me.
He’s drunk. He is completely out of his head drunk.