He can’t be serious.
“Hotels don’t usually involve being detained in your room.”
He glances up at me before ripping open the foil packet.
I can’t help but wonder if we’re going to go through with sleeping together or this is about to fall apart, like my life at the moment.
“You wouldn’t have been detained if you’d have followed the rules.” He’s not the least bit apologetic. He glances me over, curious if I’m about to object to sleeping with him now that we seem to be sharing a heated debate. “Are we doing this?” he asks.
“You tell me you’re the one in charge,” I mutter.
He pins me with his stare. “The way I see it, you’ve been hiding the twins from me. You’re not so innocent, either,Tesorina.”
I reach for the storage book, the supposed bible, and toss it into the nightstand. Stuck to the bottom of the bible is that stupid business card the federal agent gave me just minutes before Antonio kidnapped me.
I had shoved it away, worried that if I’d have tossed it into the trash, someone might have gone through and discovered it.
My stomach flops.
Antonio’s gaze hardens, and his nostrils flare. His breathing is louder, thicker, angrier.
Is he waiting for me to say something and explain? I should tell him that the feds came to me. I didn’t tell them anything. How could I? Antonio took my phone.
Silence fills the room.
“Are you fucking talking to the feds?” He yanks the card and examines it to reveal the date, time, any pertinent information to interrogate me.
“It’s not what you think,” I whisper. My heart jackhammers in my chest, and I might toss up the alcohol that I drank a short time ago.
His laugh is dark, sinister.
A shiver courses through me, and I can’t help but worry about what happens next. Will he put me in his prison, interrogate me, torture me until I tell him what he wants to hear?
“Then, tell me what the fuck you’re doing with Agent Melinda Malone’s business card,” he says, reading the name on the front.
“She approached me,” I say.
I have no reason to lie to Antonio. I haven’t done anything wrong. I’m not the bad guy. He is.
“And you decided to what, spy on me for her?” Antonio asks, growling at me as he speaks. “I should have known you’d be up to no good.”
“Me?” I can’t believe the nerve of him. I reach for the bedsheets, feeling naked and exposed in front of him, and while he’s not wearing anything, either, suddenly I’m uncomfortable. “I’m not talking to her. How could I? You took my phone!”
His jaw is tight. His gaze hardened. “It doesn’t mean that the FBI agent didn’t give you another phone.”
“Go ahead, turn my room upside down if you have to. I have nothing to hide,” I say.
He lifts the message, my ass hitting the floor as he topples the bed over to make sure there’s not a phone hidden between the box spring and mattress.
“You asshole!”
When he’s not satisfied finding nothing but air, he stomps toward the dresser, tearing every piece of clothing out from the drawer.
My voice is soft, fragile. “You’re going to wake the kids,” I say.
He’ll probably wake the whole damn house with his tirade, but I doubt he cares about anyone but himself.
He glances at the children’s room, and my stomach sours. Is he going to wake the twins and toss their room?