The sight and the sound of her cries harden my cock all over again.
I give her another slap and she screams. That’s when I stop.
“Tristan,” she calls my name, and it snaps the sexual reverie that clouded my mind.
Instead I focus on the sound of her whimpering in my arms.
This is all bullshit. Coming back in here has only pissed me off and made me want to fuck her again. I suppose she must know that though because there’s no way she couldn’t feel the hardness of my dick. She’s lying right across it.
Furious, I drag her gown back over her ass and carry her over to the wall. I can’t do what we did earlier. I can’t do it. I can’t lose my mind like that and act like some kind of animal.
She needs to fear me. She needs to know I’m serious as fuck and she needs to tell me where her father is.
Isabella stares at me in complete shock as I pull a set of handcuffs from my back pocket. I was going to use them to scare her, now I’m actually going to use them. I cuff one hand to the rails of the window and she starts cursing me in Russian.
“You bastard!” she cries.
Her eyes snap wide when I get the tray and put it down in front of her.
“You think I’m some kind of animal?” she challenges, and tears stream down her cheeks. “How could you be so evil? What’s wrong with you. This is all so wrong.”
“You’re talking to me like you think you know how to find a chink in my armor. You fucking can’t.”
“God, I never thought I could possibly meet anybody worse than my father. But you prove me wrong. You’re worse.”
If she can say that to me then she can’t know what her bastard father is capable of. But its fine, let her think that. It’s good that she thinks that. She needs to.
“Yeah, you’re right. I am worse, and he made me this way. When the devil takes everything from you, you have to become worse than him if you want the chance to take him down,” I tell her and her gaze rivets to mine.
My answer is probably a shocker. I gave away too much and showed too much emotion. I think I got my point across though perfectly because she doesn’t say anything more as I walk out.
* * *
I sit out on the beach and the sea until it gets dark.
It’s late afternoon and the sun is just beginning to set.
Footsteps crunch on the sand alerting me to the presence of someone and I turn to see Dominic.
He comes up to me and lowers to sit.
“I guess you can’t run into the sea if you don’t want to talk, or maybe you could,” he states.
I straighten up and stare at him. “Sorry about yesterday.”
“It’s okay. I guess we’re all on edge.”
“I didn’t mean to bring up Andreas. I know you weren’t comparing me to him.”
“It’s cool. I get it though. If this plan doesn’t work, we’re screwed. It’s already late. Two days gone by and they’ve had time to look and think.”
I nod. “Yeah and she’s not talking Dominic. She says she doesn’t know where her father is, and I don’t believe it. People like them hide each other. They’ll die before they give up the other.”
I’m not sure what relationship she has with her father. She said she didn’t know if she’s ever met anyone worse than him. The statement alludes to how she must feel about him. I’m assuming their relationship isn’t good, but I doubt if it’s as bad that she wouldn’t put up a fight to protect him.
“We just have to keep trying and hope she caves. That’s all I can come up with right now,” Dominic says.
He draws in a breath and as he releases it blood runs down his nose.