Attraction, desire, and sinfully beautiful, Mika Santana is a devil with the face of an angel. Despite her tragic past, she's never given up her ruthless pursuits for success and vengeance which leaves little to no room for matters of the heart. But...
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The door bangs shut, and I stand there, staring at my papa in his wheelchair by the bay window. He's wearing a classic Armani cut tuxedo with a burst of light coming from the lit cigarette in his hand. I release a shuddering breath, trying to make sense of the reasonings for needing to see my papa.
Children always have those things that make them wet the bed at night.
It could be the monsters underneath their beds or closets, the dark, insects, dolls, etc. My fear was my papa. Every time he barged into my room, the night ended with tears gushing down my face. He's impossible to impress unless he loves you, and I wasn't the son he loved, wanted. I'm the runt in his batch of children, and he has made it crystal clear.
All my life, I've been chasing after the approval of my papa, and for what? He is an abomination. All of his qualities are what I loathe in a role model. But isn't it normal to want your papa's approval? They're the ones that are supposed to support you no matter what and pick you up when you fall, but Papa wants to be the reason I fail.
Because if I succeed, he will be forced to see how idiotic he was to underestimate the baby in the pack.
"Why are you staying by the door?" My papa asks, a gush of smoke expelling from his lips. "Tienes miedo de mi?"
(Are you scared of me?)
I don't give him the amusement of earning a response from me. Instead, I stride to the white cushions in the middle of the room and contain composure as I sit down. Internally, I'm trembling in my boots, but I hide behind a disguise.
My papa lifts his cig in the air with a ghostly smile. "Congratulations, Asiel." He claps his hands, the buds falling from the ends of the stick. "You managed to find a woman to marry. Better than I expected. I don't see what she sees in you. You're hardly a man, but I digress. Congratulations, my nino."
My eye twitches. "Thank you."
"Where did you meet her again?"
I clear my throat. "At the bar."
"Right!" His mouth opens with realization. "Gato mentioned she was a stripper. Everything makes sense now. Que perra. She's using you, hijo. Make sure to have the lawyers write up a prenup."
(What a bitch.)
My fingernails dig into the palm as I struggle to bite my tongue. "No offense, Papa, but what I decide to do going forward is up to me. I don't need nor have asked for your advice."
"It's my duty as a papa to watch over my hijo." He smacks his lips together, forming a straight line.
I scoff. "Since when?"
He chucks the cigarette into the trash can and steers himself beside the couch armrest. "Since forever, Mihijo. Just like how I look after my sobrinos."
