Page 5 of Drawn Together

After I showered, Lupita brought me a cup of steaming-hot soup and a plate of roast beef with potatoes. I hadn’t realized how hungry I was until the smell flooded my senses. I had dinner in bed with the TV on in the background as a million thoughts raced through my mind. Liam had sent me a thousand messages, so I called him so he could stop worrying.

“When your father called me, I almost had a heart attack, fuck!” he exclaimed. “He grilled me, like I had something to do with your disappearance. My God, Marfil, I was so worried!”

“Don’t pay any attention to him. Apart from Tami, you’re one of the few friends I’ve mentioned to him, and he didn’t know who else to contact.”

Liam wanted to know everything, asking me to describe what happened, what I remembered and what I didn’t, but thatwas the last thing I wanted to do. I needed to rest. My eyes felt heavy, and despite the fact that I was now safe at home, my fear had not diminished.

“We’ll talk when you get back to New York,” Liam said.

Why the hell had someone moved me from New York to New Orleans, and better yet, how had they done it?

I played these thoughts over and over in my mind as my eyes closed of their own accord and I fell into a deep, restless sleep.

I woke up to a stormy day, as if the weather were a reflection of my mood. I looked out the window at the extension of green lawn that surrounded my father’s mansion. I always enjoyed being here; knowing that my mother had been the one to turn this large and imposing estate into a cozy home made me feel warm and fuzzy inside. The hardwood floors throughout the entirety of the house, the furniture, the fixtures. But out of every room, my favorite was the huge kitchen, where my sister and I spent most of our time as little girls, making cookies with Lupe and stealing lumps of sugar to give to the horses. It had also been designed by my mother, who believed that the kitchen was the heart of the home. Now that we were no longer at school together, the living room, with its large fireplace, had become our favorite spot to hang out during the holidays, when Gabi and I would sit around scorching marshmallows and catching up on each other’s lives.

I got dressed, quickly pulling on leggings and a sweatshirt, and went down to breakfast as I searched for the next possible flight back to New York on my phone. I had already missed a few classes, and I was going to have to talk to my microeconomics professor and pray that he’d let me retake the exam I’d missed. I should’ve been more concerned over what had happened tome, but I was still unable to remember anything. I was scared, but since I couldn’t even visualize it, it felt unreal.

I entered the kitchen to find Lupita peeling potatoes. The smell of coffee filled the space, which meant that my father must still be home. I had never met anyone as addicted to caffeine as he was. I, on the other hand, had not inherited his passion for the dark, bitter drink; I preferred a glass of warm milk with honey for breakfast.

Lupita smiled when she saw me, and before I could count to ten, she had breakfast in front of me. “Your father wants you to go see him in his office when you’re done eating, sweetie.”

I nodded, bringing one spoonful of cereal after another to my mouth, finishing my breakfast quickly and thanking Lupita. I crossed the living room, furnished with dark brown leather sofas, a thick Persian rug, a sixty-inch TV, and a long dining table where we ate on special occasions: Christmas, Thanksgiving, my birthday or Gabriella’s, if she wasn’t with her mother.

I walked the long hallway that led to my father’s office, hating every step of the way, as the walls were lined with the mounted heads of dead animals. My father was a big-game hunter who spent a fortune traveling to the most remote corners of the world in search of unique trophies to hang on his wall. I still remember the time he insisted on taking me with him. Not only did he force me to kill a deer, but he then “baptized” me by drenching me in blood from head to toe. He and his friends laughed as I stood there sobbing; I still had nightmares about it. My sister and I were both fervent animal lovers, and we were disgusted by the fact that our father spent his free time hunting them for his own enjoyment.

I knocked on the door before entering. My father was sitting at his huge desk, and in front of him stood Logan Price. Logan had been in charge of my father’s security team foras long as I could remember. Anytime my father went anywhere, Logan went with him. It was something so normal that I’d never stopped to ask what dangers he needed protection from. My father, Colombian by birth, had emigrated from Colombia to the United States at just twenty years old. He was a brilliant man, who had made a multimillion-dollar fortune out of nothing. He’d purchased land in Colombia when prices were so low they were practically giving it away, and he planted vineyards that now supplied fine wines to a large part of the southern region. He also had a very close relationship with the Colombian president, with whom he had long talks over cigars.

Yes, Alejandro Cortés was a successful man, but he was highly reserved with us; he hardly ever talked to my sister and me about his work or his endless travels. He’d met my mother in Russia, and they’d married a month later. A year and a half after that, I was born. Hanging over the mantel, right there in his office, was a framed photo of her. Paulina Kozlova had been a dazzling beauty, a gorgeous woman with high cheekbones, full, seductive lips, golden-blond locks, and large emerald-green eyes. I looked like her, though I’d inherited my father’s dark hair. My heart twisted in my chest every time I saw that picture. I hated the fact that I had only one memory of my mother: her lifeless eyes staring back at me as blood pooled on the ground all around her.

Logan turned as I closed the door behind me, greeting me with a dry “Good morning, Miss Cortés” as he pulled out a chair for me.

My father rested his elbows on the desk and looked at me. “We’ve been talking about what happened, Marfil, and the only conclusion we can come to is that someone kidnapped you and brought you here without asking for anything in return simply to send a message. To show me how easy it is to getto you and to let me know that they could do it again anytime they want.”

NoHow are you feeling, honey?My father went directly to the point, as always.

I clenched my fists, trying not to show how much it scared me to think that something like this could happen again. “But why? What’s the reason behind it?”

My father leaned back, shrugging. “Plenty of people resent my success, hate me, even, Marfil. I guess they were trying to get to me through you.”

Logan had been staring out the window, and he now turned to us with a serious expression. “Until we can figure out who it was and what they were trying to achieve by kidnapping you, you’ll need protection, to make sure this doesn’t happen again.”

No…

My father knew what was coming before I even opened my mouth. “You begged me not to hire security for you, Marfil, and I was a fool to agree. I didn’t listen to my security team’s warnings, and now look what’s happened. You could’ve been raped… or killed!”

I swallowed, feeling the blood course through my body. “But…”

My father stood up and went to the bar beside his desk. “No buts, Mar,” he said, opening a bottle of scotch and pouring himself a glass. “I’m not going to take any more chances. I never should’ve given in to you in the first place.”

I looked to Logan and then to my father. They both seemed very serious, decided.

“I can’t live a normal, everyday life if I have a bodyguard with me all the time, Dad.”

“Would you prefer to let this happen again?”

I had no good argument, and I hated having to just sit there in silence.

“Until we’ve cleared up what happened, you need to be guarded twenty-four hours a day. I’m reinforcing my security as well, and Gabriella will have a guard, too, when she comes home. She’s safe at school for the time being, but I don’t plan to let anyone take one of my daughters ever again.”