Adelheid 'Adel' Toledo

Adelheid’s hands tightened on the wheel, knuckles whitening as the garish neon lights casted a mockingly bright and colorful light on her face. Her opponent was already celebrating, one woman in each arm, swaying to the loud music his car’s speaker blasted in the streets. She knew why she had lost, had been distracted by a fine lady resting near a car. Those eyes, those lips and Dios me perdone those breasts, enough of all three to get her attention off of the race. The party would be short lived, though, and she wasn’t about to repeat Siegfried’s mistake. That old fool had tried to hide in some shadowy alley to dodge the cops, only to end up tangled up with his rival in ways best left unsaid. But Adelheid didn’t have a rival —not really— and so she was safe, more or less.

Her eyes flicked toward the party again, her pockets now considerably lighter, the sting of half a grand slipping from her grasp.

Anselm would have her head for this.

She sighed, but wisdom prevailed. It was better to drive away, smarter to cut her losses for the night. Besides, someone had mentioned an afterparty, and who was she to say no to a party?

---

"What did you just say?" Anselm’s voice was cold, almost surgical, his words slicing through the blaring noise of the party. She could hear the muffled chaos from the other side, but he didn’t need her to repeat herself—he had her dead to rights. He only asked out of courtesy, as if to ensure he didn't immediately strangle her over the phone.

But she said it anyway.

“I lost. Half a grand,” she gritted out, her jaw tightening, frustration tasting bitter on her tongue.

There was the faint rustle of fabric, probably the soft click of a glass against his desk. Anselm was likely with his little doe-eyed pet now, whispering empty promises into her ear, watching her drink them down like some cheap cocktail. It made her skin crawl, the way he had that girl dancing to his every whim, so easily controlled. She sure enjoyed the ladies’ attention too, but not like this.

"Adelheid, let’s pretend tonight was a rough one. Let’s say you were sick, under the weather. And let’s also say that next week you’ll be back in top form. That this little slip-up will never happen again. Because if it does—if I ever find out you lost again because you had your mind buried in some flag girl’s chest instead of focusing on the fucking race, I’ll make sure you’ll never get anywhere near either of those things again. Got it?"

A tense silence lingered in the air before Adelheid’s teeth ground together, her hands trembling as she swallowed her pride.

“Yes.”

“Say that again, Adelheid.”

“Yes, Anselm.”

His tongue clicked with displeasure, a sign she wasn’t off the hook yet. She could practically hear him shaking his head, eyes narrowed, calculating.

“Yes, sir.”

"That’s better." His voice softened, almost pleasantly. "Now go."

The phone went dead with a final, harsh beep, leaving her standing in the void. For a moment, she just stared at the screen, her heart drumming in her chest. She pocketed the phone and moved toward the door. Her hands were still shaking. Mierda, necesito un trago. (Shit, I need a pick-me-up) She needed a drink— badly.

She cut through the crowd, drunk bodies stumbling into one another, lost in their own little worlds. Everything blurred as the alcohol hit her system, a liquid fire that soothed the sharp edges of her thoughts. The syrupy sweetness burned on her tongue, dulling the incessant buzz of Anselm’s words in her mind. The numbness was a welcome relief, a blanket that muffled the chaos within her. She was a stranger to herself, floating between worlds, until the beat of the music became her anchor.

Then she was on the dance floor.

How the hell did she get here? She didn’t remember. But it didn’t matter. She needed the music to shake her bones, the heat of the bodies around her to pull her under. She needed to drown.

Her mind spun, or maybe it was her body, but she couldn’t tell. Her eyes scanned the crowd, unfocused, until they landed on her.

A shiver ran down her spine, snapping her back to attention. She had sobered up instantly. Her pupils widened, desire shooting through her. This girl —God, I need her tonight. That face, those lips, her body... she needed to see it shudder, hear her beg, feel her fall apart. In an instant, she was moving, hands reaching for the curve of her back, pulling her close, her lips curling into a hungry, dark smile.

"Hey, cariño," she purred, her voice low, drawn out like honey.

Now that she was close enough, Adelheid took her in, every perfect inch of her, the glow of desire sparking inside her. Stunning didn’t even begin to cover it. She was everything Adelheid needed in that moment.

"You look way too pretty to dance alone," she murmured, already tasting the anticipation on her lips, savoring the sweet promise of what could come.

Because one thing was for sure: Adelheid wasn’t leaving without her.