Page 25

I t had been just a few days since I began working at the spa downtown, but it felt like a lifetime since I last moved this freely because I never truly had.

The Royal Spa was nestled in a high-rise in the center of Miami’s most elite district.

Everything just sparkled down to the marble floors, the chrome-accented doors, even the glass bowls filled with sliced cucumbers and floating orchids that could be smelled in the air.

The elevator ride up alone was enough to remind me that this life was unfamiliar to me… a new territory.

I sat at the front desk behind a curved marble counter wearing a white blouse with soft sleeves and a beige skirt that hugged my curves.

I had a tiny name tag pinned to my top read that read, ‘Valerie’ and it still didn’t feel like me at all.

Sometimes when the girls called my name, I wouldn’t even turn around to answer because it wasn’t familiar to me and the alias hadn’t stuck to my spirit yet, but I was truly learning because I wanted this.

“Perfect,” she beamed before disappearing into one of the back suites.

This job wasn’t hard at all, it was just..

. different. I wasn’t being watched every second and I wasn’t being used as a pawn.

For the first time in my life, I wasn’t expected to spy, seduce, or survive.

I was able to just be me… or Valerie. I felt like I was being some version of myself that had never existed before.

The other women who worked here were beautiful and poised, but they welcomed me without judgment, and I appreciated that.

Their Miami accents made me smile because it was so much carefree spirits.

They talked about brunch spots, their latest nail sets, or the drama from whatever reality show aired the night before.

It was strange but peaceful being in a room full of women who had no idea what it felt like to hold a gun.

The spa itself was a dream come true for any woman.

It had soft lighting, eucalyptus diffusers, and playlists of flutes and water sounds feeling like the total opposite of the world I came from.

A world where I had to fake strength while being pulled apart inside.

My new condo wasn’t far from the spa either and I was loving it, it was sleek and modern with white walls; a glass balcony, a stainless-steel kitchen, and a rainfall shower I could stay under for hours.

I had a bed with fluffy grey covers, silk curtains, and a wine rack.

I had my own space for the first time in my life with no uncle hovering over my shoulder and no blood on the concrete of every corner I hit, and yet.

.. even with the new identity, new job, and new apartment, there was a part of me that still felt like I didn’t belong sometimes.

It was like I’d walked into someone else’s life and borrowed their clothes and name.

I had called Dom earlier that morning to thank him once again.

He didn’t say much like usual, but I heard the truth in his silence sometimes.

He still didn’t trust me yet and I hadn’t done enough to earn that, but he gave me this shot anyway and I wasn’t going to waste it.

When I walked out of the spa that evening, the sun was beginning to set painting the sky golden hues along the skyline, and I felt proud that I made it through another day.

I was proud that I had work, and a name, and a chance to build something even if I wasn’t sure what.

My phone vibrated, one of the ones Dom gave me, and I was still getting used to it, but I appreciated the gesture.

It always vibrated as a reminder that he was protecting me or somebody was watching me.

In a way, I did feel like I needed it, and it felt like safety, even if it came in the form of shadows and not him.

As I entered my condo and kicked off my heels, I poured myself a glass of Stella and opened the windows.

The breeze carried in the sounds of traffic, music, and some laughter from my neighbors on a nearby balcony.

Yep, I belonged to the world now… not just the cartel and not just Dom.

I was slowly finding myself, and just maybe. .. I’d earn a real name again one day.

After I got settled, I floated across my polished tile floor in a pair of fuzzy white slippers, then tapped my phone to start a playlist. I wanted to hear something Latin, warmth and familiar so I played Juan Luis Guerra song, ‘Bachata Rosa’ and the first few notes instantly made my curvy hips start to sway.

Any loneliness I felt vanished just like that in this moment.

Deciding to cook, I headed into the open-concept kitchen.

There was already a stocked fridge when I moved in thanks to the Royals and I’d always known how to make something out of anything.

Tonight, I craved‘arroz con coco’and‘pollo guisado’, slow-cooked chicken in a tomato-based stew with bell peppers, garlic, and seasoning that reminded me of the chefs back home who cooked for me.

It was the kind of meal that made even the coldest home feel like someone loved you.

As the pot simmered, the aroma filled the condo and finally made the place smell like a Cuban restaurant.

I danced a little as I stirred the pot, catching my reflection in the balcony doors.

I may have looked free, but I was still bruised on the inside.

Later, I showered and wrapped my hair in a towel, then sat at the edge of the bed in a robe while searching for a Dominican hair salon near Brickell on my phone.

I needed a blowout and a fresh press, maybe even some highlighted streaks or maybe just dye my entire head.

I needed something to make me feel like the woman I knew was inside me.

I found a spot just a few blocks from the spa.

It was bright, classy, and had all five-star reviews.

I bookmarked it and made a note to stop by during my lunch break tomorrow.

I woke up early, made a cup of espresso, and dressed in my neutral-toned work clothes with beige slacks, a soft white blouse, and my nude heels.

My hair was pulled into a sleek bun for now, but I was determined to look my best by the afternoon.

When I arrived at the spa, the other girls greeted me as they always did.

A few of them commented on how calm and composed I always seemed, and how I kept myself like I belonged somewhere.

.. royal. I only smiled in return because they had no idea.

Everything to them was what they saw in front of them.

They had no idea what an underworld was or that it even existed.

They couldn’t walk a mile in my shoes or live the life that I had.

By noon, I slipped out during lunch and made my way to the salon I'd found the night before and the driver never gave me any issues. The smell of heat protectant, hairspray, and coconut oil greeted me as soon as I hit-the-door.

“Buenos días,” the receptionist said. “Do you have an appointment?”

“I was hoping to do a blowout during my break,” I answered looking at my watch. “I only have about an hour.”

“Sure, we can take you now. It’ll be $95 with the conditioning treatment.”

I politely smiled and reached for my wallet realizing that I only had forty dollars in cash.

My expression on the outside didn’t change but, on the inside, I was humiliated and even more pissed that El Blanca emptied my accounts.

I paused for a second and then I stepped outside for a moment and called the one person I knew could fix it and he answered immediately with a cough. Is he sick? I wondered.

“Dom,” I said, keeping my tone low.

“You straight?” he asked.

“I’m at the salon near my job. I… um… I need to get my hair done but I don’t have enough money. I don’t have a bank account either.”

There was a long pause, but I could hear him breathing on the other end. “Where you at?” he finally asked. I gave him the name of the salon. “Aight. I’ll make a call, don’t move.” He hung up without another word.

Not even two minutes later, the receptionist called me back inside. “Miss Valerie? You’re all set. We just received a call and everything’s covered.”

I was taken back. “Seriously?”

She smiled while waving me inside. “Yes. You must know somebody important.”

I nodded my head as a small smile crept upon my lips. “Something like that.” I said.

As I sat in the chair and felt the stylist begin parting and brushing my hair, I stared at my reflection knowing damn well this new life wasn’t perfect and I’d have some hard days, but it was mine now and somehow, even though I wasn’t sure I deserved it yet, I was going to make it work.

The Dominican blowout had my hair laid to perfection.

It was so soft and silky as my hair cascaded down right above my ass.

I was feeling like a regular woman in the city.

I stepped out of the salon with a little bounce in my heels this time, as I slid my sunglasses on and adjusted my bag before walking toward the black SUV waiting a few feet away.

One of Dom’s shadows stood by the rear door, opening it for me like clockwork.

I climbed in and the soft roar of the engine and the cool air conditioning took over as we rolled back into downtown.

I looked out the tinted window, watching the city that was so full of life.

The palm trees were swaying in the heat, couples were laughing as they crossed the street, and tourists were pulling out phones to snap pictures of any and everything.

Miami was so damn beautiful to me and the place to be, but something started to feel off all of a sudden and I got chills.

My eyes unconsciously scanned the sidewalk until they landed on him.

Sitting at an outdoor café, holding a folded newspaper, wearing aviator shades and sipping a café con leche like he belonged there.

It was fucking Hector! El Blanca’s right-hand man.

He was cold-blooded and loyal to the bone.

He was one of the most dangerous and he never left El Blanca’s side unless he was sent to kill something and as far as I knew, he was still supposed to be inCuba .

My blood immediately ran ice cold as I sat up straighter with my heart pounding in my chest. He didn’t see me and there was no way he could have behind these tinted windows.

We were at the red light, and I couldn’t stop staring at him.

My palms were suddenly sweating and my stomach twisted into knots.

“El está aquí…” I whispered to myself, panicking telling myself ‘he is here’. “It just can’t be…” I reached for my phone so fast it nearly slipped out of my fingers. I went to call Dom again and this time with trembling hands. “Come on,” I whispered. “Come on, pick up, pick up, pick up…”

After the fourth ring, his deep voice finally answered. “Yeah.”

“Dom,” I gasped barely able to get the words out. “He’s here… Hector. He’s sitting outside of Café Verde on 5th and Marble… sipping coffee. He’s supposed to be in Cuba, Dom.”

Dom paused for a second. “You sure?” he asked, and I noticed how his tone instantly changed. He sounded like a cold-blooded killer.

“I swear it’s him. I’d know that scar on his neck anywhere as well.”

I could hear Dom moving on the other end now at a fast pace.

“Where exactly you at?” he asked. I gave him the cross streets, and he said something under his breath.

“That’s too close to the downtown Royal Enterprises hub.

He ain’t here for coffee… El Blanca’s ‘bout to hit one of our biggest distribution sites.”

My chest began to heave up and down. “Dom… what should I do?”

“Go straight back to the condo. Don’t speak to nobody and lock the door. I’ll handle the rest.”

“Dom…”

“Victoria.” He snapped. “Go home… now. ”

He hung up on me and I gripped the phone in my lap telling the driver to take me home instead of back to the spa.

My heart was still pounding as the SUV made a sharp turn at the next light.

The city didn’t even know the kind of hell that was about to rain down on it…

but I did because if Hector was here… El Blanca was already watching, and they had officially brought the war to Miami.

To be continued!

Episode 3 of “The Miami King” coming SOON!