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I guess I finally understood the concept of hate sex. In the past, it had always seemed like a weird, fringe thing that only super kinky people were into.
But I was really starting to hate this bastard who was keeping me from my life, keeping me under his thumb—God, that thumb—but that hatred was there, a weirdly tightened coil in my core, something wound too tight, something I instinctively knew would be incredible—unfathomable—when the pressure was released.
All that said, I wasn't sure I could live with myself, assuming I lived through this, if I knew I had been so damn weak, such a slave to my own desires. I'd had no trouble controlling them in the past. In fact, they'd hardly ever been any trouble, more of a little background chatter to everything else in my life that took more precedence.
By the time the car pulled to a stop, and the engine cut off, my shoulders were aching, my thigh muscles sore from trying to brace myself against all the rolling, and I was starting to get a raging headache from all the rampant overthinking.
There was a long pause before the trunk popped open.
I felt a wave of relief when I noticed we were in the same parking garage we'd been in the last time. At least I wasn't being thrown in some basement somewhere.
It wasn't Lorenzo's face I saw when the light streamed into my dark prison, though.
It wasn't even Chris.
Nope, it was Emilio, of all people.
"You've got a lot of spirit in you," he said, giving me that smirk that seemed so natural to him. "I've never seen Lorenzo so pissed off before," he added, reaching in, snagging my legs, pulling them out to dangle over the back of the car.
"Yes, how dare I not be a model prisoner, sitting and waiting for all the menfolk to come to a decision about my fate?"
"Yeah, I get it. I'd be pissed in your position too. This isn't your fault. And this isn't how we usually do business. Let's just hope the next meeting with your old man goes better."
"When is that?" I grumbled as Emilio grabbed my upper arm, helping me out and onto my own feet. But even when I was, his hand stayed there, making sure I didn't get away from him. As if I would get far without my hands free.
"Three days."
"You only gave him three days to find the money he owes you?"
"Plus interest. And he doesn't owe me shit personally," Emilio reminded me, seeming to want to distance himself from the whole kidnapping and imprisonment thing, even as he walked me inside, situating himself in such a way that the lone employee hanging around didn't see the cuffs as we moved into the elevator that Christopher was holding open. He didn't join us, though. Given my earlier escape, I figured he would be stationed at the bottom of the elevator from now on.
Great.
"Plus interest? My father can barely make payroll each week, and you think he can find thousands of dollars plus interest for you in three days?"
"Hey, babe, don't shoot the messenger here. These aren't my decisions. And, for the record, they're not Lorenzo's either."
"Yeah. You're all just a bunch of mindless soldiers, right?" I asked as we stepped out into Lorenzo's apartment, the man himself throwing back a whiskey in the kitchen. "No thoughts of your own. Just do what you're told. How pathetic is that?" I asked, looking over at Lorenzo, chin lifting.
"Put her in her room. I'm not in the mood tonight."
"The truth is so inconvenient, huh?" I asked as he made his way across the living room.
He stopped in the opening of the hallway, leaning down, eyes hard. "Watch the mouth, hellcat, or I will bring out the duct tape again."
With that, he went off into his room, slamming the door.
I was led to my room, and it didn't escape me that there was now a lock on the outside.
"Turn around," Emilio demanded when I stepped into the threshold. "I will undo the cuffs."
"So you can lock me in my room," I hissed, feeling the cuffs release, my shoulders crying out when I could finally swing my arms forward as I turned to face Emilio.
"Hey, not my fault you fucked up your escape attempt, babe," he said, shrugging, waiting for me to take a step inside, then reaching for the door. "Now you gotta deal with tightened security. I'm on duty tonight, so if you need anything, just call."
At this point, I'd rather starve to death than have to ask these guys for anything.
Really, what had I been smoking to have thought they were all kind of charming before my escape attempt? How was I able to distance the men themselves from the acts they had done? Some of them to me?
