I tugged at my shirtsleeves and straightened my tie, checking my appearance in the mirrored wall of the elevator.
Ruby blood dotted the collar of my crisp white shirt, and the side of my neck looked like it had been mauled by a very small, very rabid dog.
I barked out a curse and slammed my palm down on the stop button before pushing my thumb against the small panel that allowed access to my penthouse. I would have to change before my meetings began, and I was already cutting it close to the first one. That meant I would barely have time to get an update on the situation from Raúl.
Good luck at your meetings. Carmen’s malicious smirk and saccharine well-wishes suddenly made sense.
My booming laugh filled the elevator, spilling out into my living room when I stepped into the penthouse.
Very naughty, kitten.
My palm itched with anticipation, and the pull toward the bedroom was nearly overwhelming. I could hardly wait to spank her for her smart-ass behavior.
But there were much more pressing matters to deal with. Carmen was safely locked away in my bedroom, but the sharks were circling outside.
Now that Pedro was dead, I controlled the sole cartel that trafficked Rodríguez’s Colombian cocaine into the States through Mexico. For years, I’d managed the land routes, while Pedro Ronaldo had ruled over the port of Lázaro Cárdenas, overseeing shipments by sea.
All of the territory was mine now, but Pedro’s former friends could make things difficult for me. I needed to act fast to determine who would swear fealty and who needed to be eliminated. Even now, there would be several plots against me, ambitious men trying to find a way to use this tumultuous time to their advantage.
Luckily, my walk-in-closet had two entrances—one from the bedroom, and one from a second, larger master bathroom than the half bath I’d instructed Carmen to use. I’d already shut the connecting door to the bedroom, so I wouldn’t have to lose face by sheepishly returning to change my shirt. She would never know that I’d come back to get cleaned up.
As I gingerly placed a small bandage over the angry red bite mark on my neck, I grinned. This was more fun than I’d had in ages. No one challenged me like Carmen. And now, I had her all to myself. Caged for my amusement.
I could hardly wait to finish with the day’s political maneuvering, so I could come back up here and punish her thoroughly for her naughty behavior.
Chapter 6
Carmen
I hissed a string of curses as I made my way to the bathroom, each step like walking on razorblades. How had I managed to run for hours when my feet were this fucked up?
Stefano must have been right about the adrenaline. Fear was a hell of a drug.
I could do with some good drugs right now. Even though my feet were bandaged, they fucking hurt.
Making it to the toilet was a mercy, because it allowed me to sit down. I lingered far too long, dreading standing.
The thought of Stefano returning to find me in this embarrassing situation sparked my defiant rage, giving me the resolve to get back on my feet. Whenever he did decide to come back, the bastard definitely wouldn’t knock.
Which meant I had an uncertain amount of time to explore the limits of my prison. I didn’t know how long he would be gone, but I couldn’t risk walking around for more than a few minutes. I fully believed the son of a bitch’s threat to punish me if I exacerbated my injuries.
He’d given me a warning, and I would choose to heed it. I had to play this game with him, assess his moves and countermoves, and get a feel for how he operated. Once I understood him well enough to manipulate him, I could start maneuvering toward my inevitable escape.
After the tumultuous events that had passed between us this morning, he’d revealed a devastating amount of information about himself. My complete emotional breakdown and disassociation had been genuine, but his response had given me far more intel about him than he had gleaned about me.
I’d managed to keep a lid on my horrific secrets; I’d contained the details of my hellish captivity with Miguel Armendariz. Stefano thought my intense emotional reaction had been a natural fear response to the prospect of rape.
And instead of forcing himself on me, he’d chosen to comfort me.
That revealed a weakness: Stefano wouldn’t harm me. There was a limit to his retribution, so I could push at his tolerance levels without fear of physical damage.
I might have been reluctant to believe his assertion that he wouldn’t violate me, but he had made no effort to conceal his main objective: to earn my surrender. He wanted to toy with me, to indulge in a battle of wills that he was so certain he would win.