His Territory

28

- Lucia

The house was undeniably gorgeous. I hated to admit it, but I could tell Adrián had picked it with me in mind.

The kitchen was a professional chef's dream, with gleaming stainless steel appliances that looked untouched: a double oven, a fridge with French doors, and white marble countertops wrapping around the room. Boxes still sealed with new gadgets—a coffee maker, air fryer, and toaster oven—sat on the counter, lined up in a row. I raised my eyebrows, impressed despite myself.

But I wasn't about to unpack and make this space feel like home. I needed to keep my focus on finding my phone and reaching Cristian. I continued wandering through the one-story house, absorbing the sleek décor—creme-colored furniture in the living room, light walls, and a massive flatscreen resting on a mantle above the fireplace, still boxed. In the corner, a small stack of boxes labeled For Mía caught my eye.

Curious, I walked over to them. Adrián's pet name for me, I thought, shuddering slightly. I carefully opened the first box, planning to return everything to its place so he'd never know I was snooping. Inside were the old throw pillows and blankets from his—no, our—old living room, all meticulously folded.

He didn't pack this himself. He doesn't have the patience to fold, I thought, almost smiling despite myself.

I opened the second box and saw the items from my old desk: notepads, pens, a few books, and two framed photos. The first frame was empty. The second held a picture of Adrián holding me in front of his old house, his hands planted firmly on my waist. I sank down onto the floor, staring at the image, memories flooding back.

"Lucia!" One of the guys called out as I approached the porch. He waved, nudging the man sitting next to him, and our eyes met. Adrián's face lit up, and he let out a yell as he jumped up, knocking over one of the plastic chairs. He didn't even bother picking it up, just stumbled down the steps until he was standing inches from me.

He was tall, maybe four inches above me, and when I looked up, my forehead met his chin.

"Mira! La 'busadora está aquí," he sing-songed, prompting chuckles from the other guys on the porch.

"Abusadora, abusadora," he started chanting, circling around me slowly. "Bendita sea la hora en que te encontré." His hands landed on my waist, and he attempted to sway me against him.

The others laughed as I grew more uncomfortable, trying to lean away from him. He brought his mouth to my ear, grazing his tongue along the edge. "Soy Jadiel, ¿quién eres tú?" he whispered.

I moved forward, putting space between us. "Lucia. I'm here to clean," I replied, hoping to end his attention.

At this, he paled, backing away. "You're Adrián's girl?" he asked, switching to English.

I blinked slowly. "No, I'm not his girl. I'm just here to clean the house."

The guys on the porch burst into laughter, and suddenly Adrián was on his feet, sauntering over with a grin. "Nah, baby, you are my girl," he said.

Adrián towered over Jadiel and me as he took my arm, pulling me away. "Come here, Lucia," he said, his tone soft but with an edge that made me follow without question. "Give me a little spin." He twirled his finger, and I obeyed reluctantly, feeling like a doll on display.

The guys hooted, and Adrián shot them a glare. "Ay, mamahuevos, she is my girl. Keep your eyes to yourselves."

He tossed his phone to Jadiel, who barely caught it. "Take a picture, quick," he ordered, his eyes meeting mine.

He stepped forward, and suddenly, I was in his arms, my legs instinctively wrapping around him for balance as he gripped me tightly, his hands sliding to my waist and then down to my hips. He squeezed, holding me steady, his face close to mine, breathing in my scent as he chuckled, a low, rough sound.

Then, he turned to his guys. "Listen up! You touch her, you die. I don't care if she's holding water and you're dying of thirst. She's mine, you get that? Your blood's on the line if you so much as look at her. ¿Claro?"

His voice boomed down the block, and I had to admit, something about his fierce possessiveness was—well, it was attractive then. I was an idiot to think it meant anything more.

I let the memory slip back into the past, closing the box and standing up. His handsome face, his strong build—none of that changed the ugly truth of his character. I set the boxes back in place and turned my attention back to my mission.

Jadiel.

A realization hit me like a punch. He'd taken that picture the day Adrián claimed me as his own. But now, he was in California, running with Cristian's crew. How had he ended up there? And why did he look so familiar when I'd seen him before? My thoughts spiraled, but I pushed them aside. I needed to find my phone.

After combing through several rooms, I finally found an office. A desk was littered with papers, and a laptop sat open. I approached it, easing into the plush leather chair. I scanned the papers—mostly shipping invoices—before moving on to the drawers, yanking them open, one by one. In the second drawer on the right, I found it. My phone, hiding under a stack of notepads.

My heart raced as I turned it on. 4% battery. I held my breath, praying Adrián wouldn't return as I quickly unlocked it and opened my messages. I typed frantically to Cristian:

He has me. Not the house in Queens. In New York by the water. Don't reply, don't call—he has my phone. Help.

I hit send and deleted the message from the chat, hoping he'd see it before Adrián checked my phone. I slipped it back into its hiding place and eased out of the chair, exhaling with relief. If nothing else, at least Cristian knew I was alive.

After ensuring the office was as I'd found it, I wandered back to the bedroom, sinking down onto the bed. I curled up without bothering to pull up the sheets, closing my eyes as exhaustion settled over me like a blanket.

This nightmare had to end soon.