lips together.
He crossed his arms.
And he raised his chin slightly.
Exactly the same as Vicente.
I was imitating him.
One of the bodyguards lowered his gaze.
Ramiro opened his eyes.
I stopped breathing.
Vicente was a 46-year-old man whom I had never heard scream.
I didn’t need it.
When he was upset, he would simply stay still.
And that stillness was worse.
There were businessmen who arrived smiling to meet with him and left 20 minutes later without looking at anyone.
Vicente gazed at Mia for several seconds.
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