Kiss Kill Vanish by Jessica Martinez Page A

been bought,” Emilio finally mumbles.
    â€œWhat are you talking about?”
    My head rises and falls with him several times before he answers. “Lucien’s working for someone. He’s babysitting you.”
    â€œI don’t understand. I thought—”
    â€œHe showed up right when you ran out of money, and now he’s got you dependent on him, right? He’s keeping you here in Montreal, away from Miami but not wandering around the world like you would be otherwise. He’s keeping you safe. And let me guess, beyond that less-than-passionate kiss in the car, he’s never actually tried anything with you.”
    I’m spinning trying to keep up. Emilio saw the kiss, but that hardly seems like the important part. Nothing makes sense.
    â€œOr has he?” Emilio asks.
    â€œNo.”
    â€œHe’s never wanted to paint you naked, then?”
    No. He’s right. It’s one of the absurdities that became clear at Les Fontaines, and I’ve been cataloging them all, haven’t I? Subconsciously I’ve had to, because snowflake after snowflake they’ve been floating down around me and piling up to something too real to ignore.
    â€œNo,” Emilio answers his own question for me. “His boss wouldn’t like that.”
    Anger burns in my gut. Lucien is a liar. I thought I despised him, but this new pain, even after the deeper betrayals of tonight, is sharp and real. Did I actually let myself pity him? I squeeze my eyes shut. I want to kill him.
    â€œVictor,” Emilio says calmly. “He works for Victor.”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œTrust me. That’s the explanation you want.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    Emilio thinks for a moment. “Lucien works for someone. Better your father than one of his enemies, or someone who thinks keeping tabs on you could be useful at some point. But it’s been too long—they’d have already used you as a bargaining chip. Or killed you.”
    I cringe. “But why would my father hire Lucien to watch me? If he knew I was here, he’d come get me.”
    â€œI don’t know,” he admits. “Victor’s been to Spain three times in three months looking for you. Or maybe just pretending to look for you. Maybe he wants you to come back on your own, and maybe he wants you kept safe until then.” Emilio sounds doubtful. He brings his fingers to my hair and pulls them through. I can’t remember the last time someone did this. After so much isolation, being touched feels sweetly painful. I hold my breath.
    â€œExcept he never knew why you left,” Emilio says.
    â€œYou never told him I was in the closet that night?”
    â€œOf course not. But he sent me here,” Emilio says softly. “To an art show he knew you’d be at—if I’m right and he was paying Lucien to watch you.”
    â€œBut he can’t have known I was in Montreal this whole time,” I repeat pointlessly, no argument, no reason. It’s just unimaginable.
    Emilio doesn’t answer, twirls a piece of my hair around and around his finger, distracting me with the gentle tugging and his touch on my neck. I can’t follow his hole-ridden logic when he’s doing that.
    â€œThis is a test,” he says evenly. “That’s what it is.”
    â€œFor who?”
    â€œMe.”
    â€œWhat kind of a test? Why would he be testing you?”
    â€œIt’s what he does. Loyalty has to be proven.”
    â€œBut he knows you’re loyal.” I look up at him. “Right? That’s why he made you shoot . . .” I don’t want to say his name. Now that I know it, I don’t ever want to hear it again.
    Emilio is staring into the radiator, lost in his thoughts and a handful of my hair. “Do you think he knew about us?”
    â€œNo,” I say, without thinking. But then I do think. I’d always assumed Papi would go ballistic if he knew