Cristian smirked. “All right, hermanito,” he drawled. “You can keep this one. Just make sure she’s useful to me, and we won’t have any problems.”
“Give me a month,” Andrés replied, resuming the calm, assured demeanor that so unnerved me.
“You can have three weeks,” Cristian countered. “I don’t have time for you to play with your new toy. Break her, or I’ll find another way to ensure her cooperation.”
Andrés nodded his agreement, as though their discussion of my fate wasn’t horrifying enough to make nausea curl in my stomach.
“You can’t do this to me,” I managed faintly.
Andrés’ fingers hooked through the back of the collar, pulling it tight around my throat. I could still breathe, but I was very aware of his control.
“Quiet, cosita,” he commanded softly. “It’s done.”
The world blurred with my tears, and I could barely make out Cristian’s suit-clad form retreating from the suite, his guards in tow. When they were out of sight, my tormentor pulled me against his hard body, and I sobbed into his chest.
Chapter 6
“You haven’t eaten, sirenita,” he murmured as he stroked his big hand up and down my back.
I sniffled against him, collecting my thoughts as my wits returned. I tried to push away from him, but his arms firmed around me, trapping me against his hard body. He allowed me just enough space so I could lift my face to glower up at him.
“I didn’t want to be drugged again,” I said hotly, a clear accusation.
“I don’t need to drug you to keep you compliant.” His lips twisted in distaste. “I wouldn’t do that.”
“You drugged me last night,” I reminded him.
He frowned at me. “You were hurting. I was sparing you more pain. Would you have preferred to suffer?”
“Yes,” I defied him. “Then I could have at least kept the dignity of my clothing. You stripped me as soon as I was unconscious.”
His brows rose. “Do you really think you’d still be wearing clothes if I didn’t want you to? You can’t hide from me, Samantha.”
His fingers fisted in the sheet at my lower back, and he pulled at the soft fabric until it loosened and slid down my body. I twisted in his hold, struggling to cover myself. But my movements only made the sheet shimmy down my legs, leaving me completely bare against my captor. He still wore his sharply-tailored suit. The dichotomy of power was painfully obvious: he was fully dressed, while I was writhing naked in his arms, a collar still locked around my throat in a sign of his ownership.
“You shouldn’t have covered yourself,” he reprimanded.
“So you would have paraded me naked in front of everyone? In front of your brother? How fucked up is your family?”
His jaw firmed. “I would have covered you before I invited Cristian in. I don’t let other men look at what’s mine.”
I shoved at his chest, accomplishing nothing. “I’m not your property.”
His hand fisted in my hair at my nape, tugging my head back and trapping me beneath his black stare. “You could be,” he said smoothly. “I could make you my plaything, my eager little fucktoy. And I think you would be eager, Samantha. Your body aches to be touched.”
I squirmed against him, my blood pounding through my veins. “I don’t want to be your…” The words died on my tongue. They were so vile and vulgar, I couldn’t bear to repeat them. “I don’t want you to touch me,” I managed.
“You do,” he countered coolly. “But you’re still afraid. You’re so innocent, you’re scared for me to touch your little pussy. That ends now. Your innocence is mine. Your pleasure is mine. You will accept my touch.”
“I won’t,” I hissed. “I won’t invite you to rape me.”
“I will never rape you,” he replied calmly. “And I won’t fuck you at your invitation. You will beg and weep for my cock before I give you what you want
.”
I shuddered in his arms, completely overwhelmed. In the space of a day, I’d been stripped of my rights, my dignity. And the way he spoke about breaking me with such calm assurance rocked me to my core. In his mind, my surrender was a foregone conclusion.
Fuck. That. He might spank me, but I could handle it. A little sting on my flesh wasn’t going to break me. I glared up at him, defiant.