SO COLD (18+) currently editing

Chapter 77.6

"What does your father want? Money? Power? Fame? Los blancos son propensos al terrorismo, después de todo," he made a noise in the back of his throat, "he lacks common sense, and has ruined the lives of his children, but he's made a name for himself. Un poco egoísta, ¿no?"

"I have no idea."

"Eres una mentirosa. You're his daughter. How can you be so clueless of his desires? What does he want?" he demanded, his tone was unkind, harsh.

My skin flared up in irritation. My expression became hard. "How many times must I repeat myself? I already told you."

Cebrián seemed a little amuse at my anger. He raised a finger to rub at a corner of his mouth, and then moved to rub a hand through his beard absentmindedly. "You're as sensitive as a child's bottom. Cálmese. All I asked was a simple question."

"Twice."

He took offence to my tone and his irked gaze flitted to me. He made a noise in the back of his throat, quiet for a moment, and then straightened his shoulders, spine straight. He poured himself another drink from a bottle of the finest scotch, and gestured to see if I wanted to share a drink with him. I shook my head. His small smile was derisive and after he swallowed his first mouthful, he said. "I can see you're attached to your father. I must warn you though, if he so much as threatens to harm a single hair on my boy's head, I will hunt him down like the rabid animal he is. His burning flesh will drift to the far corners of this city and his shrieks will be heard even as you sleep."

"Padre." Cole appeared, voice sharp.

"Teyo," Cebrián greeted unabashedly and raised his glass. "Bebida, hijo?"

His temper was evident. "We're leaving."

"Por el amor de Dios. Hijo eres tan sensible como ella es."

Keys were handed to me. "Wait in the car."

"It's fine," I said. "I–"

"Wait in the car, Shay."

"Fine." I didn't care if the pair fought. It wasn't my problem. I left the room without a goodbye to Cebrián and the door was closed shut firmly after me. The pair could be heard arguing almost immediately.

"There's a spare bedroom upstairs. You can stay over." James walked into the house with a smile after seeing off the rest of the guest and then upon hearing the men's voices, his forehead creased in concern. "What happened?" He closed the front door.

"A load of bollocks."

"We'll leave them to it. Want to help clean up the kitchen?"

"Sure," I followed him into the kitchen.

He flipped the switch for the light and walked across the room to the sink. He squatted, opening up the cupboards and handed over a roll of trash can liners and cleaning sprays. "Throw all the bottles in and wipe down the surfaces after. I'll make a start on the dishes."

I puffed out a liner and then after a short fuse of impatience and hearing their tempestuous argument in their mother's tongues, I said, "You mind if I shut the door?" I kicked it shut, not bothering to wait for a response. It was a matter of minutes before I collected all the empty beer cans and bottles of alcohol and empty food wrappers. I sprayed the surfaces, pushing items back into designated areas after wiping under, and was finished by the time James was done with the heavy pots and pans. "I left the tequila bottle out. There's more than half a bottle left." I tied the bag up and set it by the door leading out to the garden so that it could be taken to the bins later.