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I force back my misgivings. They serve no one. “And?”
“And you’d catch me, and make me cry, then you’d do it all again,” she whispers, hanging her head as a tear escapes down her cheek. Her shoulders slump in defeat. “You left the door unlocked on purpose…”
It’s not a question and I don’t answer.
Neither is it true, but it will serve me well if both she and my men believe this was nothing but a game I was in control of all along, rather than a perilous misstep that could have put us both in danger.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
MARICELA
I’m cold, and hungry, and tired. My shoulders ache where my arms are still cuffed behind my back and my wrists have started to chafe. My butt has become numb on the unforgiving metal of this chair seat. And I have a desperate need for the bathroom, but the couple of times I’ve shouted to the guard, he’s stoically ignored me, so now I’m struggling against the humiliation of soiling myself.
I have no idea how long I’ve been here. It’s impossible to tell since there are no windows.
The bright light makes me self-conscious of my near nudity but every time I close my eyes against the leering stares no one attempts to hide, loud music starts to play, or someone jostles me to make sure I’m not asleep.
At least I’m not naked. I tell myself that on repeat, taking what little comfort I can from the fact.
At one point, I think Ciaran has returned for me, but my spirits sink when I realize it’s Callum, and all he wants are answers I can’t give him.
“What’s the Viper planning, Maricela?”
“I don’t know.”
“You must know something. You’re his fiancée.”
I shudder at the mere thought and look away. The truth is, I’d still rather be right here in this predicament than anywhere near Vito Rossi. “He wasn’t the type to confide.”
“Surely there must have been some pillow talk?”
The notion is so preposterous it pulls a dry, humorless laugh from me.
“What’s so funny?” Callum demands, kicking at the leg of my chair. “You were about to marry the man, were you not?”
“You make it sound like I had a choice,” I retort bitterly, stunned anew at how I feel so very differently about two men who look exactly the same.
Callum curls his lip into a sneer. “Didn’t you? You were all set to be wed in a massive cathedral in front of hundreds of onlookers. You could have said no.”
This time my laugh borders on hysteria. If only it were so simple. “I’d have been dead in a pool of my own blood before the words were out of my mouth. But who knows, I might have done that if it had come to it. I guess we’ll never know since you took me from there.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Callum demands, his eyes narrowing to slits as he glares me down.
“It means I was as much his prisoner as I am yours. If I’m honest, you’ve actually treated me better,” I scoff, silently chuckling at the momentary flicker of shock on Callum’s face before he pulls his stern mask back into place.
He hadn’t expected that!
Then, as if he’s considered the ramifications of my words, his face sours. “Yeah, you do seem to have my brother wrapped around your little finger, don’t you.”
It’s a statement, not a question.
His gaze is icy as he stares like he’s contemplating my entire existence and finds me lacking. “He’s so distracted by you he’s not thinking straight. Do you have any idea of the precarious position you’ve put him in?”
“I’ve put him in?” I scoff at the mere thought. “You kidnapped me. You brought me here. I hardly think I can be held responsible for any of that, though it’s just like a man to blame a woman for something she has no control over.”
“And yet you’ve still got him pussy whipped,” Callum claims.
I shake my head. “You’re delusional. How did you come up with such an idea?”
