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“We’re going in there?” I ask, shocked.
Angel is searching for something in his jacket pocket. The mystery that surrounds him grows larger with every passing second. Before I’d seen him at the gala, I’d never even heard the name Angel Montoya. Now, all of a sudden, he’s in the celebrity section of the newspaper and we’re stopping just out front of a paparazzi-crowded restaurant?
“Yeah,” Angel grunts, pulling something out of his pocket.
My cheeks go hot at the thought of being photographed by all those people, especially with Angel at my side.
My gaze darts back and forth between my ‘date’ and the flashing tunnel of paparazzi ahead. Knots turn in my stomach as I realize there’s no hiding. If I go out there with Angel, then there’s a decent chance that Marcela will eventually come across a photo of the two of us together, seemingly living it up in the fancy part of town.
She’ll think I’ve been ignoring her for some handsome rich dude...
Fuck.
If she only knew the half of it—but how could she? I’ve been radio silent, and not by choice.
“Hey, can I call my friend before we go in?” I can’t imagine Angel will go for it, but I have to try.
“No, put this on.” Angel hands me something and I instinctively take it. A lush black box fills my palm; I hardly pay it any mind.
“Please. Look, I won’t make a fuss. There are just a lot of photographers out there, and I don’t want my friend Marcela to get the wrong idea. We live together, and she hasn’t even heard from me since you took me...”
Angel raises the palm of his hand, the mob boss equivalent of a shush. It makes me so angry. I’m not one of his lackeys, he can’t just order me around...
But of course he can. He practically owns me right now.
... I wonder what would happen if I opened the passenger window and started screaming for help?
“If this goes well, then I will let you call her. Now, put the ring on.”
Ring?
I’m distracted from my escape fantasy for a moment as my attention turns to the item in my hand. With great caution, I open the classy black box.
The shine on the ring inside is so bright that it nearly blinds me.
“What is this?” I ask, shielding my eyes from the luxurious glow.
“It’s an engagement ring,” Angel replies, matter-of-factly.
“How romantic,” my rolling eyes are fixed on the glittering white gemstones.
“Do you like it?” he asks, the coldness suddenly melting from his tone. It only lasts for a split second, but Angel seems genuinely interested in my thoughts on the matter.
“It’s... It’s...” I’m too distracted by the opulence to take a shot at the sudden tenderness in Angel’s usually closed off demeanor. “It’s incredible,” I say, letting the truth spill from my lips.
“Why are you giving it to me?”
The tenderness falls from Angel’s gaze and the conniving business man returns. “Because we’re getting married.”
15
Angel
Is it wrong that I feel a hint of jealousy towards an inanimate object?
Since we sat down at our table in the VIP section of Platillos, the most happening restaurant in all of downtown Cali, Catalina has barely been able to take her eyes off the ring I gave her in the car.
I’d rather it if her gaze was turned on me, but another part of me is at least