The younger girl blinked, clearly unsettled by the answer she hadn't expected.
Love wasn't something Daniella depended on anymore. Not after the man who was supposed to protect her had handed her over to Santiago like a business transaction. Not after her own brother had nodded along, too busy chasing his next drink, his next high, his next bet. If the blood in her veins couldn't love her, how could a stranger ever be trusted to?
The girl shifted on her feet, still clutching her boyfriend's arm. "What about you?" she pressed, her voice a little smaller now, like she sensed the answers she was getting weren't the ones she wanted.
Daniella almost laughed. "Me?" She couldn't say it wasn't love—not here, not in front of everyone, not with the ink still wet on the paper that had just chained her to Santiago. She couldn't admit it was a contract, a transaction dressed up in cheap flowers and signatures.
