She is Fatal to Death (Standalone Story)

Chapter 15 (The Menu)

She ran a hand over her big braid. She opted for a black, tight-fitted shirt and baggy, black jeans. Renata slipped into her black sandals and scurried over toward the door. When she opened the door to reveal her sister, her jaw nearly fell to the floor.

Rocio wore a black sheer, short-sleeved, cropped top. It hugged her bare breasts, outlining them for all to see. Her pleated skirt was barely there too. And with fishnet stockings and chunky wine red boots, it couldn't have been any more clear what she had to say about anyone who felt just about anything toward her outfit: go ahead and clutch your pearls, bitch.

Renata exhaled all the air in her lungs. She tried not to eyeball the markings scattered down her sternum and curving around her breasts. "I thought we weren't going to the Met Gala?"

Rocio looked down at herself. "Oh." She scoffed. "Me and Tahoma liked to match sometimes."

Renata waited for more context, and when she realized there wouldn't be any, she shook her head and stepped into the hallway. As she shut the door behind her, she asked, "who's that?"

"Oh, I'll let him introduce himself at dinner."

This was already sounding like either a disaster or the most fun she'd experienced in a while.

**********

Upon their arrival, Nirvi was at the head of the long-stretching table. She stood up from her seat. Renata didn't know what to expect, and wasn't sure whether to be pleasantly surprised or mildly disappointed.

Nirvi gestured to the seats on either side, "welcome Renata," her red eyes shifted toward her sister, "welcome back, Rocio." Her voice was deep, smooth, and calculated. There was a southern eastern accent, barely there, but it added a richness that just slid over one's skin like honey.

Nirvi dressed herself in a rose pink wrap dress. It hugged her curves and overflowed with elegance. Inky black hair was pulled up beautifully on top of her head, shaped with purposely laid curls. Her almond eyes were focused and quick. She had a thin, curling mouth and a proud, tilted nose. Renata was almost silenced by this woman's natural confidence and beauty.

Renata seated herself, feeling naked as Rocio went to sit across from her. Only then did Nirvi return to her own spot. "I hope you've found your stay adequate," she addressed Renata, "and most of all: comfortable."

"My bed was really comfy," Renata confirmed. She knew the right thing to do was to remain calm and respectful, yet another part of her demanded answers.

"Well, I'm glad. I should hope you've been looking after your sister, Rocio." Her eyes cut to Rocio.

Rocio's eyes widened comically. She pressed a hand to her chest. "Of course, I have. Nothing but the best for my baby sister." She lifted the cup in front of her. "Cheers."

Renata went to grab her own crystal glass.

"You're not starting without me, are you?"

Renata's head turned in response toward a voice that filled the room. And against her will, her eyes widened as she drank in his appearance as he strode toward them. Long black hair parted down the middle. Piercing eyes noticeable from across the room. A dark, severe gaze imprinted into a tanned face sculpted with care and passed down from each generation of warriors to the next.

"You're just in time," Nirvi responded. She regarded him with a distanced warmth. So did Rocio.

She watched as his eyes finally latched onto Renata. Whoever he was, he was dressed in the exact same outfit as Rocio, and he wore it well. He wore it instead of it wearing him—clothes as bold and loud as that tended to be the main show, but not for him.

Renata held her breath, gauging his reaction to her. Intrigue. Mischief. More intrigue. Maybe a little delight. Delight for what? She had the impression that he was refraining from licking his lips. This alarmed her, but she remained still.

Nirvi gestured to him. As he took the seat beside Renata. She didn't feel his warmth but she felt the power rolling off of him. His energy was untamable, anyone could have known that just by looking at him. "Renata, this is my son, Tahoma."

She turned toward him, but he was staring at the empty seat across from him, beside Rocio. His brows furrowed and he floated away to someplace else, to another time—Renata knew the feeling. His attention snapped back to the present. The corners of his lips lifted and it felt like the moment when a wave had reached its highest point and was crashing back down. "Hello, Renata, I've heard so much about you."

Renata felt proud of herself as she refused to be too dazzled by his striking face, his striking everything. "Really?" She sipped her drink she had been holding and placed it back down. "Like what?"

He smiled and his eyes darted toward Rocio and Nirvi. "Well, mostly from Rocio. She can't stop talking about you. Renata this, Renata that," he waved his hand and grabbed the pitcher toward the center. He tipped it and dark red liquid poured into his glass. "I was almost becoming jealous."

Renata arched her brow. "Not anymore?"

He paused his drinking. "I wouldn't go that far. Now, who's on the menu?" His eyes focused on Renata and the breath came to a screeching halt in her throat.