"Make sure she never leaves your sight," Mariano loosened his grip on the phone and stared out his office window at the glitter of the morning sun on the Ocean. "You, plus two guards."
"Understood." the receiver replied.
He disconnected the call and glanced at his watch. He and Aurora were running late for Maximo's funeral. Thankfully, aunt Latoya, Gabrielle, and their handful of guests already left for the private ceremony. The guest list had been limited to immediate family and close family friends only and was strictly by invitation.
Aside from keeping the media out of his business 'cus he hated their guts, Laura's conspicuous absence from the funeral wake last night had left them theorizing. Her absence at the funeral today would only draw them in like flies on rotten meat. The news from yesterday's event had made the front pages of newsletters today with his ex-girlfriend's unexpected visit, Laura's absence, and Aurora's second appearance on mainstream media since she married Maximo five years ago, being hot topics.
He'd had enough.
Mariano reached for the intercom and dialed his butler who picked on the second ring.
"Is she ready?" He asked.
"I'm not sure, sir." the man replied. "She hasn't left the room, and didn't respond when I went to call on her."
"Is she aware of the god-damned time?"
"I made mention of it after delivering to her room at the crack of dawn, dresses that are suitable for the occasion, sir."
Mariano sighed, dropped the call, and tucked his personal phone in his pocket. It was time to go hurry her up himself. He couldn't remember if he'd told her about the funeral arrangements for this morning, but Latoya should've mentioned something. They spent the evening together, yesterday. And even if she didn't, the butler just said he did. She had no business wasting his time.
He took the steps two at a time and strode down the hallway toward the guest room. The door was wide open, and he halted in front of it, not wanting to intrude.
"Aurora?" he called. "You in there?"
"What?!" came the grumpy reply, two rooms away.
Mariano turned toward the master bedroom, frowning slightly as he moved into his own living space and took in his surroundings. There was his massive, four-poster bed with a sturdy iron headboard. The black duvet brushed the corners of the dark teak nightstands on either side. The walls were painted black and adorned with abstract paintings and an iron candelabra his late mom had gifted him before she passed.
There was a faint scent of roses in the air, and Mariano followed it almost unconsciously as he moved through the bedroom toward the large walk-in closet in the far corner.
"Aurora?" he called again. "What the hell are you doing in my—"
The words died in his throat as he froze in the doorway of the closet. Aurora looked up from her spot in the center of the space and scowled at him.
That and a pair of blue skinny jeans that accentuated her calves and her pert little ass were the only things she wore.
Well, pretty much. The bra left little to the imagination, flimsy and lacy and made of some sort of pale silk that showed every inch of flesh and the nipple beneath. He felt an overwhelming urge to gather her in his arms and carry her to the bed.
"Take a picture. It'll last longer," she muttered confrontationally.
He turned his back respectfully. "What the hell are you doing, practically naked in my bedroom?"
"I see you've suddenly gone blind." she reached for one of the sweaters in his closet. "I have pants and a bra on."
He wanted to point out that her nipples were perfectly visible through the so-called bra, but bit his tongue.
"That wasn't the question I asked," he said thickly.
"The tub in the guest room of your massive beach house is clogged. I had to wander into some other one. Also, I needed to borrow a sweater from you." she assessed the material she'd taken. "This one seems nice.
He turned around to check out the sweater she took and also to ask why she thought skinny jeans and a sweater were the appropriate fit for a funeral. The sweater was almost over her head when he turned to find her back to him.
Whatever he wanted to say, died in his mouth again. And this time, it wasn't because he saw something remotely attractive.
Permanently etched on her back, were deep scars that dominated the area below her shoulder blades and above her waistline. They were old and scattered around what he last remembered to be a region that was as smooth as silk.
"What the hell?!" Mariano boomed.
Aurora pulled down the sweater and turned back to him in surprise. It was the first time she'd heard him raise his voice to anyone. He was always deadly quiet and in complete control.
"What?" she asked.
Registering the surprise on her face, he took a second to breathe and work on his tone before speaking again. "Who did that to you?"
Genuinely bewildered, she asked. "Who did what to me?"
"The scars on your back,"
There was barely a heartbeat between her question and his reply.
His eyes hooding, he continued, "He did that, didn't he? That bloody bastard put his whip on you too."
He saw red.
The scar and the memory of how she'd gotten it, came rushing like a floodgate of terror that had been let loose. Trying not to give away just how upsetting its reappearance was, she said coldly, "I don't want to talk about it," and stalked past him.
"Answer me, Aurora!" he barked.
"What for?!" she came around quickly. "He's dead! Dead! Maximo is dead now, and that's all that matters. So except you have superpowers to bring him back for a good beating, or at least to ask where he hid the darn disk, I do not wish to talk about it!" she stomped her feet.
"Oh, and about the funeral, count me out of it. You can tell your guests anything you wish. I'm not acquainted with anyone of them anyway, I'm sure I won't be missed." she marched out of the room.
"And where are you going?" he went after her.
"Not to the cops, don't worry. I'll try to find the disk and get back my sister from you and your kidnapper mafia boss, friend!"
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