And yes, it is very familiar. I trace my fingers along the routes. I know them. I’ve spent years looking at them, my eyes wandering to those very same lines every time they wanted a break from whatever tome Kiki was forcing me to slog through.

There is another version of this map, nearly identical but slightly more elaborate, hanging above the double doors leading into the Sonza library.

These are the shipping routes Don Carlos controls. These are the pathways that made him one of the wealthiest men in the Viceroyalty of Peru.

I riffle through the papers, looking for something else, something damning. It takes me half a second to find it. It’s right there, under the maps.

Transfers of title. Unsigned, but plain as day. Orders to switch ownership of the routes from Don Carlos de Sonza and his heirs to Cristobal Téllez-Girón, the Marquis of Peñafiel. If these documents were filed, they would give him everything and leave Kiki’s family with nothing. There’s no way in hell Kiki’s father would sign these.

“What the hell are you planning, Cristobal?” I ask the silent room.

No answer comes. But the silence is broken by the sound of footsteps approaching the room.

“Shit.” My hands fumble as I hastily roll the map back up and slot it onto the precarious pile of similarly rolled documents. The pile teeters dangerously. Both of my hands fly up to keep the mountain in place, but one of the smaller maps slides off the top, hitting the carpeted floor with more noise than a piece of parchment—no matter how heavy—has any right to.

“For God’s sake.” With the toe of my boot—a pair I’m surprised Kiki allowed me to leave the house wearing but I suppose the light brown leather was fine enough to go with the dress—I kick the roll of parchment under the nearest bookshelf.

Hopefully, that will suffice.

A glance cast over the room tells me everything is in place, or as good as it was when I entered. I wipe my sweaty palms on my heavy skirts. But before I can leave, the sound of the incredibly well-oiled and nearly silent door hinges makes me freeze, booted feet rooted in place, my back to the door.

“Are you lost, little fox?”

The skin on the back of my neck prickles with gooseflesh.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

I know exactly who the speaker is. And I know that I am royally fucked.

CHAPTER 29

Kiki

My chest tightens as I watch Ana go. I do not like the thought of her alone in this house. Especially since I have yet to lay eyes on the man who owns it.