Page 27 of Pretty Hostage


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“In the meantime,” he continued, his tone sharpening, “Sofia’s virginity has to remain intact. If I’m going to give my word to Caesar, you will have to honor it.”

“I know,” I agreed. Adrián’s word was everything. His power and his control of this territory relied on pervasive fear, but also stability. If Adrián made a promise, he had to keep it. Otherwise, he’d get a knife in the back quickly.

I wouldn’t be the one to put his safety at risk by making a liar out of him.

A year. I could last a year without taking Sofia’s virginity. There were other ways to take my pleasure from her that didn’t involve breaking her hymen.

“I mean it, Mateo,” Adrián warned. “You can do whatever you want with her, as long as she remains a virgin. But keep your cock in your pants. No penetration of any kind. No loopholes.”

“Don’t talk about her like that,” I snapped, knowing full well what he was referring to. I might have fantasized about claiming every one of Sofia’s holes for myself, but I wouldn’t tolerate anyone else talking about her so crassly, not even my best friend.

“Don’t get shitty with me,” he said coldly. “I know you were already considering it.”

I bit out a curse. “Okay,” I allowed. “I agree to your terms. Sofia will remain a virgin until Ronaldo is dead. But she’s mine, Adrián. I won’t touch her, but this doesn’t change anything. She still belongs to me.”

“I didn’t say you couldn’t touch her,” he replied drily.

I heard a car engine rev, and my stomach dropped. The sound was far too close to be coming from the road. Someone else was on my property, and I’d left Sofia unguarded.

I ended the call and sprinted toward the sound. If the intruder wasn’t bothering to mask their escape, they must already have Sofia in their possession.

It seemed I would get the chance to kill another man before the night was through.Chapter 8SofiaMy heart hammered against my ribcage, and my stomach churned.

He’s a criminal. Mateo is a violent criminal. Oh, god…

My throat convulsed, and I swallowed hard against the urge to vomit.

The floodlights that had suddenly shined through my window only seconds ago now illuminated a nightmare scene.

Mateo’s massive body was a darker shadow against the tree line at the back of the property. I couldn’t see his face, but I recognized his brawny frame.

He moved brutally and faster than I could have imagined, given his size. I scarcely had time to draw in a horrified breath before two men were dropped by Mateo’s meaty fists.

A third man shifted something that was slung across his shoulder. Was that…an assault rifle?

In the second it took me to slap my hand over my mouth to stifle a scream, Mateo had ripped the gun out of the man’s hands and jammed the weapon into his ribs. Mateo launched himself at the injured man, and they both went down.

All four men were on the ground. The floodlights made the grassy lawn glow an eerie neon green, casting the tree line into deeper shadow. I couldn’t make out what was happening anymore, and for a moment, I feared for Mateo. At least one of those men had a freaking assault rifle.

But no shots rang out.

I pressed my face close to the window, straining to see if he was okay.

Then, a feral roar echoed through the night, sending a chill racing up my spine. Surely, that was a wild animal. It couldn’t be human. It couldn’t be Mateo.

That animal. It was what my father always called Mateo. I’d thought he was being mean and judging Mateo for his less-than-tailored appearance.

I’d liked how wild Mateo looked. I liked his thick black beard and indecently tight t-shirts. I’d never swooned for a clean-cut man in a suit the way I did for Mateo in jeans and a leather jacket.

But Daddy hadn’t been making snide remarks about Mateo’s style.

He knew something about Mateo that I didn’t. He knew that the rough-around-the-edges man I had a crush on was actually a vicious criminal capable of brutal violence.

The shadowy form of Mateo’s huge body stood tall once again. I could make out two other men struggling to their feet. I didn’t see the fourth man, the one who had held the rifle.

A few seconds later, they all disappeared into the trees.

How long until he comes back?

Because Mateo was definitely coming back for me. He had made it clear that he was holding me hostage, and he didn’t intend to let me go. I’d put a silly spin on the situation, pretending like being at Mateo’s house wouldn’t be all that bad. Even when I’d been emotionally hollowed out by the isolation punishment he’d imposed upon me, I’d still been completely delusional about Mateo’s true nature.

Why did I keep doing this? It was as though I’d hardwired my brain for denial and willful ignorance my entire life, and I couldn’t break the habit. Every time Mateo revealed something awful, I somehow managed to minimize it or distract myself from thinking about it altogether.

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