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THERE WERE VERY FEW THINGS Pilar hated more than a big, empty house. All that space with no one to share it with made her feel small, unimportant, and forgotten. So when she arrived home after school and was faced with yet another apology note quickly scribbled on her father's monogrammed notepad, she sighed and crumpled the paper in her left fist.
Her relationship with the almighty Bernardo Alfonso de Santos was discreetly tumultuous. It was complicated, to say the least. After the passing of her beloved mother, there was this unspoken rift between the two. But there was also an inexplicable closeness and dependence, as they were all that they had left in this world. Bernardo was a paradigm of his own creation. He was so much more than your average, greasy-palmed business man. He had depth and darkness like no other, yet he disguised himself as a good man. He told himself it was for the sake of his darling daughter, but whether or not that was the truth is still to be determined.
As aforementioned, everyone has bad habits. And Bernardo's was walking in and out of his daughter's life like it was some sort of train station. Pilar knows that he loves her but it seems he only shows it at his convenience. His appearances in their house are fleeting and momentary. She always feels like he is just centimeters from her grasp; like if she just reached a little farther or he stayed a little longer, everything would be okay; they would be okay.
She shook her head in an attempt to expel the bad thoughts from it. Pilar tossed the crumpled ball of half-hearted, rushed apologies into the garbage and made her way up the stairs. She was hoping tonight would be a night of great auspiciousness, but the unshakable pit in her stomach was telling her otherwise. The setting of the club offered new opportunities for trouble and scandal. Samuel's appearance at the party could tip the scales of Guzmán's anger—again. Valerio could drink or snort his way through the night, leaving him aching and groaning the following morning. Lu could be caught between the two boys, and Christian could pull a stupid, drunken stunt that would leave him in an arm sling, or worse.
With all that being said, there was one opportunity Pilar was most certainly looking forward to: the chance to see the girl from the washroom again. The one who looked as though she was cloaked in a veil of charm and venom. The one who smelled like cheap cigarettes, maraschino cherries, and expensive Gucci perfume. The one with the alluring, captivating sense of self-confidence.
