"You have GOT to be kidding me." I snap as I see the dress that Luka holds out for me to wear, his sharp brows tilted to a point, an eat-shit grin plastered on his lips.

My face must be almost as red as the dress (if you could call it that) that dangles from Luka's long fingers. The shiny silken material catches the light, but it looks more like a bra than a dress. The string-thick straps look like they could snap at any moment, and the red connected choker looks like a deadly torture trap.

"This is what all of DQ's women wear." Luka shrugs his shoulders, but I can still see that evil laugh in his eyes.

"First of all, that's sexist. Second of all, no."

"Well, I would wear it, but red really isn't my color." He snickers, his teeth bared like a dog.

"I'm not even going to be able to understand the conversation that will be going on!" I throw my hands up in the air, pacing back and forth.

"We've gone over this, half of the time they go in between Spanish and English, and I will be translating everything for you." Luka's voice is so irritatingly calm that I want to just punch his face until all his teeth fall out.

Just as I'm about to retort, there's a playful knock on Roman's bedroom door and seconds later, Roman enters, a hand over his eyes.

"Is everyone decent?" He shouts far too loudly. I roll my eyes.

"Yes, Roman."

He peeks through his fingers and sighs in fake relief.

"Thank god, I was not wanting to walk into something I couldn't unsee."

"Oh, hush." Luka snaps. "You know full well you'll see her when we're in the meeting." He turns back to me. "Look, gringita, this is what you have to wear, or else you won't get in. The women there all wear masks as well so your face will be hidden."

I stomp my foot slightly. "Fine. Give me the damn outfit." I snatch it from his hands, along with the ridiculously high heels, escaping into the side bathroom to change.

I hear a murmured conversation in Spanish through the door, but I'm too busy dying of embarrassment.

Get yourself together, Katya. This is how you're going to help your mom.

Ugh, why does my inner self have to be so rational?

I quickly slip on the outfit which, given how short I am, thankfully goes to mid thigh. The heels are slightly too small, the open toe almost cutting off the circulation to my whole leg.

"Everything alright in there?" I hear Roman's muffled voice from the other side of the door.

"Yeah, I'm fine." I lie right through my red stained lips. I give myself one last look in the mirror. My thick dark hair is wrestled into a tight bun at the very top of my head, and my eyes are lined with coals. I don't recognize myself, but part of me loves it. How wonderful it is to be someone other than yourself. 

"Come on, Katya." Luka's impatient groan comes through the door and I sigh, grabbing a small purse in which my phone and a small switchblade are held. 

I open the door, walking (wobbling) out on the pin needle-like heels. 

A low whistle sings from the room and I roll my eyes at Roman. 

"Damn Kate." He nods his head up and down in approval and I have an instinct to slap him upside the head. 

I rub the side of my arm nervously, not making eye contact with the tall dark boy across the room. I can feel his gaze on me, hot and sharp. But I can't bring myself to meet it, fearing the blush that I know would cross my face. I focus my eyes on the white carpet instead. 

But the sound of confident steps hits my ears and he is in front of me, tilting my chin up. His silver eyes are squinted, his thick lashes almost concealing their color. 

"Here." He whispers, as he raises a laced object to my face. I cringe back for a moment, but he chuckles, easing me slightly. 

"It's just the mask, gringita. Wouldn't want someone to recognize you." His hands reach behind my head, and I can feel his fingers expertly tying the silken straps of the mask around my head tightly. He steps back, and I exhale. I hadn't even realized I had been holding my breath. 

"There, now you're ready." He smiles at me, a crooked smile at only graces one side of his angular face. 

"Thanks." I whisper lamely, looking back down at my feet. 

"Damn, that was almost a fifty shades of grey moment." Roman's taunting voice cuts through the moment, and we both turn to him, rolling our eyes.

"Alright, Luka. We have to change and then we'll go. Kate, just go wait in the foyer. I'm sure you have plenty of thinking to do." Roman nods at me, and then at Luka, and they exit the room without another look. 

I'm alone. Maybe I always have been. 

~~~~~~

"Get ready to see Luka Vincenzo dressed to the T in a penguin suit!" I stand up from the chair in the foyer, looking up to see that they were both, in fact, in penguin suits. 

More regular suits, but everyone needs a piece of comedy in their lives. 

Luka's tie hangs undone from his stiff white collar, his black suit jacket the color of tar. He sure cleans up nicely. 

"Take a picture, it will last longer." He teases with a wink and I know I'm blushing. 

"Why wear a tie if you're not going to tie it?" I ask, placing my hands on my hips. 

And to my surprise, Luka blushes. It's absolutely adorable. 

"My abuela usually does it for me." 

I chuckle slightly, and walk towards him. I don't know where I get the courage, but I grab the two ends of his tie, and begin to loop one around the other, the black silk slipping through my fingers like water. 

I tighten it to his neck, and pat his chest lightly. 

"Perfect." I smile. 

His gaze is unreadable as he gazes down his chin at me, with an expression I can only describe as confusion. 

"Alright, you two. Vamonos." 

~~~~~~~~~

Sweat slicks my palms as we reach the door to Luka's condo, and I can hear my pulse in my ears. 

"Is it too late to change my mind?" I whisper in Luka's ear. 

Before he can reply, the opening of the door answers me. 

A tall man, skin like burnt honey, and facial hair like pepper answers. I know that it isn't Luka's father, which offers me some form of relief. 

"Vincenzo." The man nods. "Cortez." I frown, but then realize that the man is looking at Roman, who gives a foreign smirk. 

"Buenas Rivas." Luka smirks, shaking his hand with gusto. The man's eyes turn to me, or rather, up and down my body. I push myself closer to Luka, whose grip on my waist tightens. 

"This is a good one, Vincenzo. I might need to borrow her later." He says, in english surprisingly. 

Luka gives a forced laugh and I try my hardest to smile seductively. 

"They're inside, your place beside your father is open of course." I gulp, and watch as Luka's jaw jumps with nerves. 

"Thank you, Rivas." He nods at him, and we walk into the condo, my heart rate speeding like a rabbit's. The air is filled by cigar smoke, the sound of raucous laughter and clinking of glasses coming from a certain room. 

"You ready, gringita?" Luka's mouth whispers in my ear and I nod, lying as I must. 

Luka turns slightly to Roman, and they share a nod, as Roman goes first into the room. As he enters, the crowd of men around the table cheer and clap him on his back, some motioning to his wheelchair and cracking some joke. Roman laughs back, transforming into his alter ego. 

"Our turn." Luka whispers, as we enter the room. 

The room is slightly clouded by the grey smoke of cigars and laughter, but as soon as Luka enters, all chatter ends. I hold my breath. 

"Vincenzo. Come, sit." A familiar but unwelcoming voice rings through the silence, and I can feel Luka's entire body tighten next to me. I can hear his throat gulping slightly and then clearing, as his grip on my waist tightens dangerously. 

"Of course." He says, his voice deep and strange. 

He walks forward through the cloud of smoke and, there he is. Luka's father sits on a ridiculously large chair, the leather's red coloring poking out from the sides of his thick neck. 

He smiles at Luka, showing golden teeth. Seriously, I feel like I just walked into a scene from Scarface. 

A busty woman sits upon his father's lap, her hair curled perfectly, but the closer I get, the more I can see the thick layer of hairspray holding it together. She looks me up and down from behind the mask and her eyes roll back. 

Luka sits beside his father, but I am too busy being frozen to realize where I should sit. 

"Sientete." Luka hisses gently at me, motioning to his lap. I am about to object, but then I realize all the eyes in the room are on us. 

So I plaster on a fake smile and settle stiffly onto his lap, his arm going around my waist.

"Relax, chica. You can't look too stiff or they'll know something's up." He whispers into my ear, so quiet I barely hear. 

I take a deep breath and put a hand on the back of his neck, trying my best to relax the tense muscles of my back. 

"Now, everyone is here." Luka's father leans forward in his chair, leaning his elbows down on the silken table cloth, golden rings adorning his fingers. I stare at them, oddly mesmerized by the one wrapped around his middle finger. The gold is slightly chipped, definitely older than the other, newer ones on his fingers. 

The letters WB curling around the band. It's my father's old ring. One my mother had given him when they were in love. 

My grip on Luka's neck tightens. 

"My younger son, Vincenzo is here, and with a beautiful piece on his lap." Luka's father cackles, clapping Luka slightly on his back, which tightens like a pulled coil. 

"But we, of course, must discuss the elephant in the room." His beady eyes scan every face present, each of which drops to look at the table or take a drag from the cigar in their hands. 

"Where is West?" He growls, a sneer appearing on his lips. Now it's my turn to tighten up. 

The room is silent for a moment before erupting in raucous laughter, hands banging tables and women giggling nervously. 

"He said he was unfortunately occupied with other, matters." He says nonchalantly, leaning back in his chair, and taking a drag from his cigar. 

"Probably because of that bitch daughter of his." A voice across the room says, and I turn to see a lanky latino man, nose long and pointed, a gap toothed sneer appearing below his thick mustache. 

My blood begins to boil but Luka squeezes my hip, and I look down at him. He shakes his head at me and I look back ahead of me, not focusing my gaze on anything specific. 

Luka's father chuckles, and places his cigar back in the almost filled ash tray, splaying his hands over his large stomach. 

"Forget her, wait, in fact, I hear from West that she was apparently running around with you, Vincenzo." He turns his squinted gaze to Luka, who stays stoic. 

"I've seen her in la escuela, pero, no me importa. Esta fea." I know he's saying the last bit to spare my feelings, but even I understand his words. Ah, the irony. 

His father chuckles darkly, apparently pleased with Luka's answer. 

"Just like his whore wife, I suppose." 

A retort starts to bubble in my throat but Luka's nails dig into my back, warning me to keep my mouth shut. 

"She's where she belongs, I suppose." Luka says, dangerously. The whole room goes quiet as his father twirls a ring on his finger, examining Luka's face. 

"And how would you know about that, nino?" He growls lowly. 

I can't breath, fearing for Luka, myself, my mother all at once. 

Luka opens his mouth to answer, when another voice from across the room interrupts him. 

"Don't worry, father. He won't know much for long." 

The entire room turns to the voice, who had just entered and is silhouetted in the light of the opened door. But as the voice steps forward, it grows an arm, a leg, and finally, a dangerously familiar face. 

A face chiseled and scarred, with a chin holding a thick but short beard, and eyes black as night. 

Marcel.