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“Nope. I don’t do pets and if I did it would be a dog. Dogs can be trained. They can be useful. I definitely don’t do cats.” He turns his face away so he’s not looking at her.
“Big, strong mafia man but he’s not powerful enough to deny your charms, little angel. He has to look away before he falls under your spell, because he knows he can’t resist you.” I hold her out a little further. “Look right at her pretty green eyes and tell me she’s not cute.”
He glances over at her, unable to hide the tiny curl of a grin that raises the corner of his mouth. “I didn’t say she’s not cute. I said I don’t do pets.”
“Do you want to hold her?” I ask.
“And get cat hair on my suit?” He shakes his head. “No, thank you.”
“It’s my personal mission to make a cat person out of you yet. I mean, look at that face.” I smile at her, the name coming to me. “Angel. That’s her name. What do you think?”
“Doesn’t matter to me.” He rises to leave. “I’m going to see my dad. Lunch is at noon.”
He moves to the door, pausing for a moment when I say, “How is your dad doing?”
“Better. Stable.” His tone and his hand on the door tell me not to press for more information. “See you at lunch.”
It’s not an invite. It’s a command. The door closes.
I look at Angel. “Men can be so rude. Especially the grumpy ones. I’m so glad you’re a girl. And that they brought you to me.”
He brought you to me.
I’m so confused. The hosting is wonderful. The gift amazing. The imprisonment like a vacation.
There’s even banter between us, the conversation flows. But he’s angry. Closed off. And dangerous.
I find myself attracted to my captor, my body craving more of his rough love.
My mind says do not be blinded by the kitten. Run. Find a way to get help before it’s too late…
Too late.
The words send a shudder through my body. I think of the horrible stories, the murders, the deaths we uncovered when we were researching the Bachman mafia. The messes they’ve made in their rise to power.
No one knows I got on that jet. Or that I’m in Greece. In Damian’s presence, under his roof, I’ve allowed myself to be lulled into thinking I’m safe.
Sure, I signed the nineteen-page document his lawyer presented me. Not only did it include a humiliating disclosure asking me my sexual health status, confirming I am on birth control—an IUD—as well as sharing his own clean bill of health with me, but it then went on to basically say they now own me, and if my lips ever open and spill even one slip of information about them—down to the colors of their front doors—I’ll be totally and completely destroyed.
How long does a non-disclosure agreement typically last, you ask? One to five years. The Bachman Enterprises NDA?
A lifetime.
But I’d be a fool to think the swirling scribbles of my name on a piece of paper will be enough to save me.
Do not be blinded by the kitten.
I am… most certainly…
In danger.
twelve
Damian
Giving the woman a cat? I must be crazy. Sure, I spanked her…
But pulling her up on her knees and fucking her? What was I thinking? I wasn’t, at least not with the right head. I never should have crossed that line. At least I controlled myself at dinner last night.
