Page 3 of High

Crossing my arms and dragging the lapels of my suit jacket closer, I made my way along the wall, skirting comfortable couches and ducking under paintings until I came to his office. I pressed my ear to the door and eased it open a crack. No lights. I hurried in and closed the door behind me. There was enough of a glow spilling in from the security lighting outside that I could see the desk, and when I got there I fumbled around until I snapped on a lamp and breathed out a sigh of relief. There, in a golden spotlight, sat the ugly black phone I’d remembered. The desk, however much this room had changed over the years, was the same as ever. This was one thing he hadn’t replaced.

Fast as possible, I went around and grabbed the heavy old phone, dragging it closer as I sat down in Papá’s chair. I kept glancing at the doorway, and my fingers shook as I punched in the number for Thio’s cell. I held my breath as the line rang and pressed the handset too hard to my ear. He didn’t pick up. Rather than leave a message, I pushed the button in the phone cradle to disconnect and then dialed again. I did that twice more before—

“Please, please tell me it’s you, Manny.” Thio’s voice was raw. I’d never heard him this way. My heart leaped and I couldn’t stop myself from smiling, in spite of the fact adrenaline swept through me like I’d caught the tip of a twenty-foot wave on my surfboard.

“Thio, where are you?” I hunched closer to the desk and fought the urge to hide under it with the phone. “Please, I want to come home.”

He let out a ragged sigh. “Sit tight, mocoso hermoso.”

“I’m not a brat.”

“Hmm, I noticed you didn’t say you weren’t beautiful,” he teased. My stomach went all melty hot, and everything from my nipples down felt supersensitized. But I didn’t know what to say back. I never did.

“Thio,” I whispered, and he laughed. “Papá said the craziest—”

“Are you safe?”

Staring around the dark room, I shrugged. “Shouldn’t I be?”

He huffed. “Just go to your room and stay there. Stay out of everyone’s way. Let your papá forget you’re there.”

“But what’s going on?” I demanded. “I’m so tired of everyone treating me like I’m stupid.” Tears were suddenly cutting at my eyes, but I blinked fast.

“Just be on your best behavior. I’m already working on it.”

“Can we talk, now? About… whatever it was you wanted to say on the ride home?” I murmured.

“No.” He sighed, but not in the way I knew meant he was upset with me. “No, that has to be done in person.”

“Just tell me is it good or bad, what you want to say?”

“Very good.” His low voice sent tingles up my spine. I ducked my head, rubbing at the back of my neck while I smiled at the desk and fought down a new rush of warmth to my stomach. It didn’t work. All I could think about was seeing him again.

“Thio, I miss you. Do you miss me, too?”

“No more over the phone,” he said softly, but I could tell he did miss me, and I tapped my toes against the floor as I smiled so hard I was embarrassed, even though I was alone. “I’ll be there to get you s—”

The phone was yanked out of my hands, and I stared up at my father in horror as he slammed the handset onto the cradle, and then he ripped the whole phone off the desk and tossed it across the room. I shot to my feet.

He stared at me, mouth set in a thin line. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Papá, please,” I whispered.

He lunged across the desk and grabbed my wrist, but I tugged away until he had no choice except to let me go—unless he wanted to knock his computer to the floor. I scrambled around the desk to run, but I didn’t really have anywhere to go because he was between me and the door. He wasn’t trying to hurt me, I didn’t think, but the backhand I took to the face exploded pain in my head that bounced around inside my skull and left my head spinning.

“You’re my son,” he bellowed in my face. “You’ll do as I say.”

Stunned, I nodded, but he shoved me to the floor. I winced as my hip knocked the unforgiving tile, and I tried to scramble away from him but he was bigger and faster. He cursed as he caught me by the shoulders and dragged me back to my feet. He shook me once. “The things you make me do. Walk!” he yelled.

I did.

He marched me back to my room, and this time when he threw me inside, he didn’t scoop me up off the floor where I landed. The door slammed behind me, and I lay there for a long while staring at the ceiling, listening to the ocean while my heart ached. Could Papá really keep me here? That was a no-brainer; he could do whatever he wanted.

When I worked up the courage to peek outside my door later, Felix was standing across the way, his usual gun in a holster at his hip. He preferred an old-fashioned pistol that reminded me of cowboys. I didn’t think the tall, muscled man would really shoot me, even though he always wore a serious frown, but for once he gave me a small, sad smile when I raised my eyebrows at him. Felix walked over to jerk the door closed in my face. The sound of a lock sliding into place on his side had my blood running cold. When had that been installed? Why didn’t I pay more attention to things?

Stomach sick, I forced myself to go to bed. I hated this, hated feeling like I was waiting for Thio to come rescue me like I really was a princesa, but honestly, that’s exactly what I was doing—waiting. And I hoped he hurried.