Page 33 of The Strength Of A Woman

“Yes. You get a husband. You will become just as big as he is, and then you ask him to spare my life.”

He seems serious, his words bearing the clarity a man like him would put in them, yet a faint light flickers in his eyes.

“Are you fucking with me?” I ask, angry. “You still think I’m some silly girl who’s talking nonsense to you?”

“I think that what you do is silly. You left a trail of crumbs for your grandparents so they can find out exactly where you went. They’ll know you’ve talked to me. They’ll also know you’ve warned me. And what would that do for us? Absolutely nothing. They’ll lock you up, send you to this new man of yours, let him handle you, and then come after me. I’m not afraid of them, Leilani. I’ve been waiting for them to show their true colors since I walked into the dining room that night when your grandfather offered me his daughter’s hand in marriage. You’re doing both of us a disservice. I told you I can’t help you. And please don’t come to me with this‘bigger than you’story. No one is bigger than me as long as I can pull out my gun and act faster than they do. Never forget that.”

He pushes his chair back and rises from his seat, at the same time, leaving cash on the table.

“Do you need a man to escort you back?”

“I don’t need any of your men,” I say, tears pooling in my eyes, threading through my voice. “You’re such an insufferable man.”

I rise just as fast and smoothly.

“Excuse me?” he tosses at me.

In one step, I close the space between us.

“You heard me right.”

Tears blur my vision as I finger his chest.

“I know I’ve made a laughing stock of myself with my not-so-secret crush on you. I know I came to you once, and you couldn’t figure out what that was all about. Or maybe you did, but didn’t care enough to speak on my behalf. I know you run a tight shop and maintain strict control over who enters your life. But I’m not your biggest enemy. And I wouldn’t be coming to you if my life weren’t in danger. In fact, I acted on your advice last night andspoke harshly to my grandmother. Words she’d never heard in her life. I’m learning how to fight. That’s why I’m here now. I’m not some spoiled girl set on wasting your time. You’d probably never see me again if I could regain my freedom. The thing is, unlike you, I’ve never been free. Perhaps you remember your life from before you were saddled with marrying Bianca. I don’t even have that. I have no point of reference. I don’t know any other kind of life. You think I’m rich and pampered and looking to screw everybody’s life. You know what I told my grandmother once? Do you know what would make me the happiest girl in the world? Living in a fishing village. Being dirt poor. Working some menial job. Or selling flowers at the market from a basket, the kind I’d pick from a field. I don’t want a man, Callum. I don’t want a villa. You sent me away two years ago, and for a moment, I thought you were in cahoots with them. I’m still not sure whether that wasn’t true. You probably were playing their hand. You gave me some bullshit about me needing some time alone. I don't need some time alone. I just wantmy timealone. Not the allotted time alone, as if I’m serving time. I didn’t do anything bad to anyone. Let that sit with you for a minute. I was simply born into the wrong family to the wrong parents. And now I’m paying for it every day of my life.”

My tears start falling as I make a gesture at the crowd.

“You see these people?”

He doesn’t look at them, his stare fixed on my face, glinting like the moon’s poems on the dark surface of a lake.

“They would probably envy me if they knew the kind of money I’m sitting on. They’d probably fear me if they knew who my grandfather was. They’d probably avoid me if my family managed to marry me to some monster who breaks people’s necks with his bare hands for a living and has no issue ending a party in bloodshed with a few rounds of ammunition. Yet, they’re so much luckier than I am. They have their lives. And Idon’t even want that. I don’t want to be them. All I want is to walk down the beach with my hair down and my feet bare. Sit down, stare at the sea, and go home when the stars are up, and my shoulders quiver from the cold. I’d walk barefoot to the other side of town, where people call home some modest holes in the wall, if I could. Old, dusty places with a window barely staring at the sea and only the bare necessities inside. A bed, a table, an old clock, perhaps. I’d cook dinner for myself and thank God that I had no one in my life, and he was good and merciful for granting me such a simple, lovely life. Is it now clear to you why I’m here, or would you like me to explain myself a little more?”

Biting the inside of his cheek, he looks at me with crying moons in his eyes, his lips tense and stripped of warmth. Fury colors his expression, but not against me, say his eyes as he brings a tense hand to the back of my neck, grabs my hair, and pulls me so close to him that I bump into his chest.

He burns inside his fancy suit like Etna when it's about to erupt, and his hand relaxes a little, moving from my hair to the back of my neck before sitting like a collar around it.

He presses his lips against my temple, his head tilted down, while I snake an arm around him to steady myself and not fall backward.

“Listen to me closely,” he whispers. “No one has talked to me about you,” he says in his normal voice, yet still quiet, still warm against my face. “I’ve heard some rumors I couldn’t confirm. I understand why you want your freedom. But your running to me won’t get you any of that. I’m even more convinced now that it will get both of us killed. I can’t promise you the life you wish you had. As meek and humble as it seems to be, it might not be in the cards for you. The only thing I can promise is that I’ll keep an eye on you and watch your back. It’s not much, but it’s all I can do right now. We can’t be seen together. We can’t have the people’s eyes on us like now. When people starttalking, bad shit happens. We have to figure out a different way to keep in touch. I don’t trust phones or any digital device. We’ll communicate through people. I won’t be going to that party,” he finally says, straightening and studying my tearful eyes. “Sylvia had mentioned it to me. It didn’t make much sense to me, but it sort of does now. Maybe they do want to round both of us up. I’ll take my precautions and keep you in the loop if any piece of information comes my way.”

He glances over his shoulder––nothing has changed in the background––and then looks back to me.

I must look thunderstruck as I lodge into my memory every little expression sweeping over his face.

“All right?” he asks, narrowing his eyes at me, a pinch of warmth glinting through.

His thumb moves, rubbing a small dot of skin right next to my temple, and I tilt my head into his touch as I notice something different in his eyes.

The pleasure of a man fueled by his undeniable power over a woman.

“All right,” I murmur, and my gaze slides to his lips only for a second before flicking back to his eyes.

A moment passes, his grip on me tenses, and without the slightest warning, he pulls me into his chest again and lowers his mouth to mine.

“Be smart, Leilani. Leave the rest of it to me.”

And from forming words, his lips suddenly part and curl into a soft smile, and then trail lower until they touch mine. Like a ghost, the wings of a butterfly, a rain of petals on a summer night, blown by the wind.