Electra stares at Hector. Confusion sits expressively on her face. She’s unable to understand Hector's claims. She looks between the useless, mute Paul and Hector.
“Are you confused, my beauty?” Hector asks in his deep, guttural voice. A sound Electra is beginning to hate.
Hector moves to lean against the counter. One elbow rests on the countertop, his other hand caresses his chin, all the while keeping his eyes on Electra.
“He owes me.” His thumb gestures to Paul. “And now I own this place.” He says, waving his hand over the space of the workshop, before clutching his jaw again.
“That’s impossible!” Electra argues.
Hector scoffs. “Impossible is a strong word, my cherríe. And I don't like it. Because nothing is impossible with Hector. I get whatever it is I want.” His eyes trail her a
