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As we reach a stretch of lawn that leads to a pool house, my mind conjures up an idea to test Roman’s intentions. I turn around to look at the two men, who stiffen.
“Hey, can I go back to my apartment to pick up a few things?” I ask.
Dominic’s eyes narrow. “Like what?”
“My sketchbook, art supplies, cosmetics, and clothes.”
“Let me speak to Mr. Montesano when he returns.”
“Can’t you call him?”
“You have a roommate?”
“Yes, why?”
“Then she can keep your shit safe while you wait,” he says in a tone that suggests he won’t continue the conversation.
I roll my eyes and head toward an olympic-sized swimming pool backed by a limestone structure with columns that mirror those of the mansion.
My brows rise. Whoever said that crime didn’t pay was a liar, because Roman has to be making tens of millions if not more.
I hurry around the pool to the building, passing through the columns to a set of floor-to-ceiling windows. Strangely, the men following me wait at the other side of the pool. Maybe this place is out of bounds to the employees.
Inside is a gorgeous lounge with a wooden dining table and cream sofas, along with a huge fireplace. I continue to the doorway because I’m a nosey bitch.
As I push the door open, I lock eyes with a naked woman strapped to a chair that I can only describe as a contraption. Her arms are stretched on both sides and attached with straps to a crosspiece around its back. Its seat is split, making it impossible to close her legs.
I notice several things at once:
She wears a gag that forces her mouth open.
She’s covered in fresh bruises.
She’s bleeding on one side of her breast.
She doesn’t have a scrap of body hair.
She’s pissed.
My legs turn to lead, as does my breakfast. The room is filled with more torture and bondage equipment than a sex shop. Is this where Roman went this morning when I woke up? Is this what he’s planning for me?
“A-Are you alright?” I ask her.
The woman widens her eyes and flicks her head toward the door. Strangled noises emerge from her throat because she can’t form words through the gag. I can’t decipher if she’s warning me to run for my life or telling me to fuck off.
Shudders run down my spine. No wonder those men refused to come any further. Roman wouldn’t want them leering at his adventurous playmate. I examine her features for signs of distress, but she just looks irritated.
What kind of person leaves a woman tied up, unattended, and unable to use a safe word?
The door behind me opens, and a dark-haired man steps out, wearing only a pair of black jeans. He’s almost as tall as Roman, with a muscular physique, his chest covered in skull tattoos.
My breath catches, and my heart leaps to the back of my throat. It’s the third Montesano brother.
He turns to me, his grin maniacal. “Have you come to play?”
I step backward on legs threatening to collapse. “I-I was looking for Roman. I didn’t realize anyone was here.”
His gaze skims up and down my body, making me feel just as naked as the woman tied to the chair. “My brother isn’t here right now. If you ask nicely, I can keep you entertained until he returns.”
