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37|Forestalling
~Roman~
The last time I saw Romero was on his wedding day. I went with Abuela and on behalf of Abuelo José. I still remember that day perfectly in my head. The most beautiful woman of her generation, Isabelle Santillan, wore a mourning face on her wedding day. That’s how much she detested to wed this man.
I wonder what happened to her. The last news I heard of her was that she moved to London the day after her wedding. This man is known for being a womanizer. I’m no saint, but this man is ten times worse.
“Mayor,” I kept my voice leveled, “how have you been?”
His midnight black eyes bored holes into mine while he flashed me his politician’s practiced smile, the kind that fooled the people of Las Mencía. “I&rsq
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