Bound To You

Chapter 11

Valeria

Gloria's hands were still shaking badly enough that I set the steaming mug of tea down on the wooden table rather than handing it directly to her and risk it spilling onto the couch. Then I took a seat next to Juan, watching him as he watched his mother intently.

It was nothing compared to Carlos, who was monitoring every detail about his wife like a hawk.

In all my years, I couldn't for the life of me remember when my father had shown this much care for my mother. In truth, it seemed as though he had no affection for her whatsoever. I had never heard him call her by a nickname, never heard an endearment, never seen him so much as give her a semi-warm look.

And right up there, alongside this observation, was another depressing parallel observation. Gloria's love for her husband. It was clear as day as she sat clinging to the arm he had draped around her shoulders, glued to his side, taking comfort in his presence which seemed to calm her breathing down faster, her trembling subsiding whenever she looked up into his eyes.

There seemed to be a silent form of communication between them that I had thought only existed in books. It was as though they knew each other so thoroughly that they could read each other's mind.

Had I not discovered romance novels at the age of fourteen and realised that my parents had no love for each other, I would've thought this borderline crazy.

The men and women in this family were entirely different to what I was used to. More in tune with the characters and relationship dynamics I had grown up reading, and only reading, about.

Gloria finally calmed down enough to lay her head on Carlos's shoulder, her husband relaxing slightly and leaning back against the pillows, taking his wife with him.

I felt Juan relax at my side.

Then I felt his gaze.

I turned to find him scanning me from top to toe, searching my face for any signs of distress.

I couldn't stop the rush of gratification no matter how much I tried.

"I'm fine," I said quietly. He looked unconvinced.

"Juan," Carlos rumbled from his place, Gloria now laying across his chest with her eyes closed, "how about you make Valeria something to drink. She has, after all, taken such good care of Gloria. We must return the favour." He smiled kindly at me.

I smiled back. "It was no favour at all!"

Gloria cracked open her eyes momentarily and gave me a small, grateful smile.

"Come," Juan said softly, extending his hand towards me. I turned to face him fully, ready to tell him that it really wasn't necessary, that I was fine-

But looking at Juan as I was now, I don't think I was the one in need of a breather.

* * *

Juan

Valeria followed me into the kitchen, keeping more of an eye on me rather than the other way around.

The realisation of just how fragile my life, my family's lives, were, was unsettling enough that, now that I didn't have the responsibility of making sure my mother was alright, the dazed blur began creeping into my head and messing with my vision.

I aimed for the kettle, fully intent upon making Valeria a cup of tea, before a hand on my arm stopped me short.

"Sit," she murmured from near my shoulder, "I'm completely fine." She sounded it too, which piqued my curiosity.

I knew I probably looked as out of it as I felt, so I took my seat and turned to face her where she was leaning her hip against the island counter next to me. "How are you so completely fine?" I sincerely hoped my question came out comprehensible.

She smiled a sad little smile. "It's not my first experience with this sort of thing."

I blinked at her.

"What?"

That not-smile remained. "Hmm. My family didn't particularly care about my safety. The bodyguards, the security, they weren't ever for me and my sister, as people. As their children. It was more for what we represented. Heirs. Assets. Tools, to further their own ends. Around the time I turned fifteen, I gave up entirely. And I convinced," she huffed a laugh, "more like demanded the head of security to teach me how to handle a gun. And fight hand-to-hand combat. Since I turned fifteen, I was the one who looked after Carla and me."

"You must miss her," I said.

Her sad smile only grew. "Yes, I do. To say we had a good relationship would be a falsehood. We were very different people. But we shared this . . . camaraderie. We were united against our parents and their . . . restrictive ideas. I covered for her; she covered for me. It was as simple as that."

I was about to ask her for more on her relationship with her sister, but-

"You needed covering?"

Any and all hint of sadness vanished from her face, leaving behind a surprisingly devilish smirk. It was not an expression I would ever have imagined I would find on her face.

And I loved every unexpected bit of it.

So much that I blinked a little, my haze clearing slightly, my spine straightening as I turned towards her fully, giving her my undivided attention.

"There's a lot you do not know about me, Juan Lopez," she murmured, the words not in the least bit insulting, "and I strongly suggest that you do not assume."

"Assume what?" I asked with a smirk of my own.

"Anything," she said with a glint in her eyes.