Miguel put his arm around her shoulders. “You are quite adept at public relations, querida. You would make a most admirable first lady.”
Dom lifted his eyebrows speculatively, the expression on his face clearly asking if there was something intimate going on between her and Miguel. She chose to pretend she hadn’t noticed that inquiring look.
“What are you doing here?”
Diego was furious. She knew he would be, but she did not give a damn. Within a few minutes of learning that fifteen people had been poisoned at Anton Casimiro’s dinner party, Gala had begun feeling guilty. Although she hadn’t known that the vial hidden in her designer handbag had been filled with poison, she had suspected as much. What she hadn’t suspected was that whoever had retrieved the vial from her purse had used it to doctor one of the food items at the buffet table. She had assumed it would be used in Miguel Ramirez’s champagne. Not caring what political party ruled Mocorito, what did it matter to her if Diego and his friends eliminated the Nationalist Party’s candidate? But poisoning fifteen people was something else. If they had died, it would have been mass murder.
“I came to tell you that I will not do any more of your dirty work.” Gala glared at Diego. Even though she was still afraid of him and the power he held over her, the liquor she had consumed before coming to his home had infused her with false bravado.
“Lower your voice.” He grabbed her arm and pulled her with him into the front parlor. After flipping on a lamp, he shoved her into the nearest chair and came down over her, bracing his hands on either armrest. “My mother and sister are upstairs asleep and several of the servants are still up and stirring in the back of the house.”
“You should have told me that you planned to poison innocent people. I would never have helped you do such a despicable thing.”
Diego laughed, then put his face up to hers. “No one died from the poison. Killing innocent people was not our goal. We simply wanted, once again, to show Miguel that he cannot protect his friends, family and supporters.”
“And if convincing him that your people can harm those he cares about does not stop him, what will you do then?” she asked. “You should kill him. Hire another assassin. Don’t harm innocent people.”
“We do not want Ramirez dead,” Diego told her. “Killing him would be a last resort. If he is killed, the people could turn him into a martyr and revolt. No, we cannot risk that. What we want is for Ramirez to withdraw from the presidential election.”
“Why did you wait until only weeks before the election to—”
“Not until recently did we realize there was a chance he could win,” Diego replied. He grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. “Go home and sober up. And do not ever come back here telling me that you will no longer obey my orders. Have you forgotten that I could send you to prison, just like that?” He snapped his fingers.
“No, I have not forgotten.” Tears sprang into her eyes.
He released his painful hold on her shoulders and yanked her to her feet. Their gazes connected for a brief moment and she thought she saw a hint of sympathy in his eyes. God, was she losing her mind? There was no sympathy, no compassion in Diego Fernandez. At least not for her.
He tickled her under her chin. She gasped.
“Be a good girl and do as you are told,” Diego said. “I do not want to see you in prison. There are far better places for a beautiful woman such as you.”
She shivered at his touch and hated herself for actually being aroused. There had been a time when she had thought herself in love with Diego. Years ago when she had been just a girl, she had admired her best friend’s big brother from afar.
“If you please me, I will see that you become the mistress of someone very rich and powerful, perhaps one of Hector’s ministers.”
His words were like a slap in the face. What had she expected? Diego would never see her as she had once been—an innocent. A virgin, like Seina. No, he knew about her drug addiction years ago and about the men she had given herself to in order to support her habit.
“I am willing to do almost anything you ask,” Gala said. “But please, Diego, don’t make me a part of harming innocent people. Even I must draw the line somewhere.”
He grabbed her arm and escorted her out into the foyer and through the front door. When they stood on the portico, he forced her to face him.
“Did you have any luck with enticing Ramirez? Perhaps you will be of more use to us if you can become his lover.”
She started to tell Diego that there was no chance of Miguel Ramirez being unfaithful to his fiancée, that the man seemed hopelessly in love with the American woman.
“We spoke tonight at the party,” Gala said. “And flirted a little.” She had flirted; he had not. “A second meeting might prove more productive. A meeting where there are no snakes and no poison.”
Diego laughed. “Go home, Gala, and tomorrow we will figure out a way for you to come in contact with Ramirez again.”
A true friend would not have allowed her to drive herself home. After all, she had had much too much to drink. She wasn’t exactly falling-down drunk, but she was far from sober. However, Diego wasn’t a true friend. He wasn’t a friend at all. He was a master manipulator who had no qualms about using her.
Gala managed to open her car door and get inside, but it took her several tries to stick the key into the ignition switch. Finally, she got the car started, then pulled out of the driveway and into the street. Less than two blocks from the Fernandez mansion, she heard the screeching of brakes and horns honking. Her last coherent thought was, “Did I run through that stop sign?” Then suddenly she felt a jarring impact as another vehicle broadsided her.
Seina Fernandez hid in the dark, in a secluded nook at the back of the entrance hall. Trembling, her heart hammering inside her ears, she held her breath as Diego closed the front door and locked it. After he walked up the stairs, she crept out from her hiding place just enough to look up so that she could see if he had gone to his room. Then and only then did she release her breath.
Only a few minutes ago, she had come downstairs to ask Conchita to prepare her some warm milk because she had found it impossible to fall asleep tonight. After an argument with her mother over her upcoming engagement party, she had been heartsick and longed to go to Juan for comfort. But what excuse could she have given for leaving the house so late in the evening? Slipping away to see Juan was much easier during the day. Since neither her mother nor Diego suspected she was seeing another man, they did not keep close tabs on her during the daytime.
Her life was already plagued by problems she could not solve alone. And now? Dear God in heaven, what would she do now that she had heard what her brother had done? What he had forced poor Gala to do? She had never meant to eavesdrop, had had no idea to whom Diego was speaking so harshly when she passed by the front parlor.
Why, oh why, had she not gone on to the kitchen instead of stopping to listen, wondering who Diego’s late-night visitor was? How could she deal with this information, with the knowledge that her brother was involved in the plot to destroy Miguel? She had known, since their father’s death, that Diego despised their half-brother, but she had never dreamed he was capable of such despicable acts. This was not the Diego she knew and had loved all her life. Yes, he could be domineering and controlling, as their father had been, but never cruel, never dangerous.
How could Diego have involved her best friend Gala in his murderous plots? He was actually blackmailing Gala, using her past drug use against her. There had to be some way she could help her friend, some way she could stop Diego. If she went to him and talked to him? No, that would accomplish nothing. If Diego’s hatred had taken him over the edge into obsession, talk would not be enough to convince him how very wrong he was.
And speaking to their mother would be useless. She adored