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Another direct answer. He takes his touch away from my face and gathers my hand in his once again.
“Fair enough, I guess. All I ask is that you don’t keep me in the dark.”
“I don’t make it a habit to share my business with others.”
I glance down at the way his thumb has returned to smoothing the skin along the back of my hand. “Maybe you will make a concession for me this once.” When my eyes meet his again, there is an understanding there. It gives me hope I’m not wasting my breath. I don’t want to think too long about how comforting the slight gesture is to me. Another thought that enters my head is why? Why does he feel the need to constantly touch me?
In an attempt to lighten the dark somber pressing in on my emotions, I ask, “And me? Is this where you throw me in the dungeon or lock me in a tower so you can decide on what you will do with me?”
His strong jaw is accentuated with a seductive shadow of scruff. An air of severity lingers in the aura of power clinging to him. I half expect him to grab me by the throat right now and throw me in a hole somewhere. I know he asked Mabel to take me to my room, but that could be a ploy to get me inside. Once past the front door, I’ll be helpless.
Who am I kidding? The moment I got in this man’s car, I gave up all control.
But that isn’t what happens. His lips peel out of the permi-scowl he’s worn since the second I met him. And for a second I swear I see a fraction of a smile touch his mouth. “I have neither of those things. Will a suite of rooms do?”
I wonder if he’s talking about his room?
I didn’t think of that. I’m his to do with as he pleases. An in-home sex slave to do his bidding should have been at the top of my list of things he would want from me. My heart races and my imagination goes right along with it. One kiss from this man had my body burning from the inside out earlier. What would his naked body and rough touch along all my curves do to me?
The longer he holds my hand the easier it is to forget I’m not his willing guest. Wet heat spills between my legs at the idea of another kiss. “Why are you being nice to me?”
He lifts a brow. “Would you rather I abuse you? I’m sure I have some chains around here somewhere. I’m more likely to have garden tools, to be frank.”
He actually made a joke. “So you are a mafia man that doesn’t have a murder room, torture devices and rolls of plastic on hand?”
He waves a hand in front of him while wearing an arrogant smirk that tugs at the right side of his mouth. “Not here.”
I look around. Rose bushes are everywhere and he doesn’t seem on guard like he was back in the dingy basement full of fighters. He’s relaxed.
“This is a safe house?” I ask.
“It’s a place where you will not be found.”
CHAPTER 4
BELLA
My heart fails me for a few seconds. The brutal honesty can do that.
He’s keeping me hidden so he can figure out how to handle the daughter of his traitorous enforcer. The truth is revealed. I would not be surprised if he has an incinerator in a place like this. He can burn the bodies to ash and be done with one trouble after another. Places like this—stone mansions in the middle of nowhere—hold secrets. Deadly ones.
“Still want me to find some plastic and a couple of chains? Or would you rather I show you to your room so you can shower?” He leads us into the house through a large door, holding my hand in his. We step into a lavish foyer with a pretty carpet underfoot. In front of us is a large grand staircase with a winding wood railing that gleams under the soft lighting. It leads to a second floor and on either side of me are high arches that lead to other parts of the mansion, I presume. From the twinkling chandeliers to the intricate floral carpets, this place is beautiful. It feels like they stepped out of modern day Chicago and fell back in time.
The man I want to hate casually stands his large figure at my side and silently—patiently—waits for me to take in his home.
My mind reels. “Honestly, I would like for you to do something to make me hate you so much that I would want to kill you in your sleep.” I didn’t mean to say those exact words when I opened my mouth, but it's too late to take them back so I lift my chin and act tough.
The Beast lifts my chin with his other hand. “Or, I could show you why they call me the Beast.”
The playful tug on his lip says I might like the answer.
When I mirror his smirk, De La Rosa stares at me like I’m the only object of value in the room. “Are you always so brutally honest?” he asks in a husky rumble.
I push his hold on my chin away. “My father says I need to learn how to lie. I never got around to it. It seemed not worth my time when telling the truth was faster,” I state firmly.
As I speak, his gaze drifts over me only slightly pausing when his attention reaches my breasts.
Eyes still lingering on my body, he says flatly, “Your father.” I don’t imagine the disgust in his tone.
