I didn’t understand him at all. The way he touched me was sick, perverted. But he wasn’t slashing me to ribbons as his brother had intended. Should I be relieved that I’d been saved from torture and a gruesome death at Cristian’s cruel hands?
I shook my head sharply. Of course not. Despite Andrés’ claim that he wasn’t going to rape me, he’d still locked a collar around my throat and chained my naked body to his bed. There was nothing merciful about his promise of punishments if I didn’t behave.
Dex will find me, I reasoned desperately. Or Jason. They’ll work together. They’ll come for me. Of course they would. My friends wouldn’t rest until I was rescued.
But what would I have to endure before they arrived?
The bathroom door opened again, tearing me from my whirring thoughts.
Andrés stepped back into the bedroom, wearing nothing but a white towel slung low on his hips. His body was even more clearly on display than it had been in his sweatpants. I could see the dark trail of hair leading from his navel down to…
I sucked in a breath and tore my eyes away from the glimpse of his erection, straining against the towel.
“You can look at me,” he invited. “There’s nothing to be afraid of.”
A shrill, maddened giggle bubbled from my throat. “Right. Nothing to be afraid of. Only the huge, scarred, scary man who’s chained me to his bed.”
“Do my scars
bother you so much?” he asked, his voice dropping and becoming rougher. “Am I so terrifying to look at?”
I pressed my lips together, locking in a stream of frightened babbling. Every time I allowed myself to speak in fear, I revealed too much. Better to not say anything at all.
He let out a low, rumbling sound of displeasure. I cringed and kept my eyes trained on the floor, not daring to look at his terrifying arousal.
He didn’t speak again. I listened to the soft padding of his feet against the plush carpet as he moved through the room. The whisper of fabric against fabric told me he was getting dressed, but I still didn’t glance up in his direction.
After a few minutes, silence stretched between us, and I could feel his eyes on me. It finally ended when he grunted once and started walking again. I glanced through my lowered lashes and watched his shiny black leather shoes retreating across the room. When he opened the door that I’d assumed was the exit, I finally looked up in time to see his suit-clad form filling the threshold. Behind him, I got the brief impression of a lavish sitting room, and I realized there was more to his living quarters than this bedroom. He’d mentioned a suite. How many rooms would I have to get through before I reached freedom? What obstacles would stand in my way, once Andrés was gone?
Well, for one, there was the collar around my throat and the chain that locked me to the bed.
My short period of speculation for escape routes abruptly ended when he turned to look at me one last time. One corner of his lips ticked up in a satisfied smirk, and his dark eyes raked over me.
“Good girl,” he praised, his tone warm with pleasure and lilting with gentle mockery.
I realized I was still sitting exactly as he’d left me: hands on my knees, back straight, breasts thrust out. My jaw dropped, and he chuckled before closing the door behind him.
Too late, I crossed my arms over my chest and huffed out an angry breath. My show of defiance was wasted; Andrés was no longer there to witness it. And would I have dared to defy him if he were still in the room with me?
With a little exasperated growl, I fisted the chain and jerked at it. My only reward was an aching palm where the metal links bit into my skin. I reached for the padlock that kept the chain tethered to the ringbolt in the bedpost. I pulled down sharply, trying to break it.
I didn’t have a hope of snapping the lock on my own. I might have been able to pick it, but I’d need tools for that. I stood and tested my range of movement. I could walk exactly two steps away from the bed before the collar tightened around my throat. Even if I stretched and reached my arm out to the point of discomfort, I couldn’t touch the chest of drawers. There was no guarantee that the keys to the locks were kept in there, but it was my best bet.
After a few minutes, I sat back down on the bed, frustrated. I might as well be in the cage, for all the freedom I had.
I shivered and pushed that thought away. My situation was dire, but at least I hadn’t been caged like an animal.
Gatita. Andrés had called me a kitten. I might not be familiar with much Spanish, but I knew that word from elementary classes in the language when I was young.
Did he really see me as some sort of unruly little pet he could train into obedience?
The way he’d touched my body made it very clear that he saw me as a woman.
But I fully suspected he still intended to train me. He’d claimed that I belonged to him. At least, I would until Cristian decided to let me go.
He had to let me go. He’d given me to Andrés to get the truth out of me, and I’d convinced Andrés that I was a federal agent. He’d said he believed me. Surely he’d talk to his brother, and Cristian wouldn’t be so reckless as to keep me captive?
I’ll get out of this, I thought desperately. I might not currently be able to escape on my own, but my friends would either locate me, or the Moreno brothers would see reason and release me before the full power of the FBI came down on them.