Trust me Not | ✓

21 • ménage

A/N

I'm so sorry for the late update, I went out drinking with my friend (things happened lol) and got shit faced to straighten my tilted axis.
Also remember MEN *insert throw up emoji*
I'm done with them, this year is about loving myself !
Neways I hope you enjoy reading about de la Garza family

as always
love lilac

༝༚༝༚

c h a p t e r

21

ménage

♔

n i c o l á s

I PUT THE CIGARETTE BETWEEN MY LIPS.

Placing either of my hands on the stone railing, I looked over the de la Garza estate from my gallery, the lush green spread across a wide area. I eyed the gardeners trimming the red carnation bushes.

My mother, however, was more fond of the Spanish bluebells. Rows of them covered all the stony pavements across the gardens, their fragile and droopy petals lining almost every corner of the mansion.

I pulled up my lighter to light the stick in my mouth. My thoughts went to the bated breathing I had heard over the phone, the apprehensive heaving.

I felt the corner of my mouth twitch in memory at Myra's house, her lips parting when I declared our relationship to her parents.

Much to my delight, Vikranth's face contorting at my words was definitely worth it. I blew out a puff, soaking in the drug as the heaviness in my head lessened.

Now that I was back in Spain, I had to check on things and people before I left. I knew that Pedro and I were neck to neck in this battle, but Mateo's silence was equally deafening.

Just because he wasn't making any noise didn't mean he wasn't one of the most ruthless leaders in the Nuestra Familia. He could do anything for the family, anything with not much to lose. Making him equally dangerous.

"Príncipe", drawled the rough voice of Arnold as he appeared beside me.

I turned my head towards the older man, whose jaw was wiped clean, making him appear younger than he was. His hair was trimmed to an appropriate measure according to house rules, and he had dawned on a simple black shirt and pants, something other than the usual suit and tie, probably due to the heat.

I nodded for him to go on as I continued to take deep drags.

"Don quiere hablar contigo." His hands were tucked behind his body. Unlike the Arnold in America, for whom my words were the last ones. On Spanish lands, my father's word was an ultimatum. Whatever loyalty I had thought of earned from him dwindled in front of the Don, and despite my awareness of the change, it irritated me.

[Spanish. Don wants to speak to you.]

I wanted Keith.

"Bien", I replied curtly as I returned my focus to the cigarette that was almost at its butt. A slight ruffling noise announced that I was once again alone in my room.