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I’ve spent the past few hours trembling uncontrollably from the shock of what I just went through. Angel Montoya had me chained up in his secret underground dungeon, completely at his mercy... and all he did was ask me some questions.
Still, the endless terrifying possibilities of what could have happened to me—or, hell, even what could still end up happening to me—have been shooting through my mind like painful shrapnel. I’m shell-shocked, dangerously frayed, scared for my life... and completely pissed off.
How dare he?
Sure, Angel may be rich and powerful, but who the hell treats anyone like he just treated me? No one deserves that, not even him.
The only reason I even dared to give him lip was because he almost seemed to be enjoying it. I figured it was my one way out of those cold chains—keep the monster happy and he might let me go unharmed... well, not completely unharmed.
I rub my sore wrists and caress my throbbing ankles.
He barely asked me anything good about Carlos or his father. Angel must already know that I don’t have any serious connection to them. He may be a brute, but he’s not stupid, and I imagine he has an army of informants who report back to him with everything there is to know.
So, why is he fucking with me like this?
I haven’t had the energy or focus to think much about it.
Suddenly, my bedroom door is pushed open; a sigh of relief escapes my quivering lips when a portly old maid waddles into my bedroom.
At least it’s not Angel again...
“Dinner time, Ms. Catalina,” the maid announces. Her accent is thick and endearing, and her sweet tone is a welcomed change from Angel’s taunting timber.
I force myself to roll over and sit up on the side of the bed. “Dinner?” I ask, confused. I’m being fed now?
“Yes,” the maid nods. “Downstairs in 15 minutes. Also, Mr. Montoya would like if you changed into something fresh.” She shyly gestures towards my filthy yellow dress; the same one I’ve been wearing since I was dragged here yesterday.
My heart drops as I process the request. First, I’m going to have to share a meal with that monster; second, if he’s feeding me, it means I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.
Fuck.
“I don’t have any clothes,” I bite back, looking for any excuse to spend some more time away from Angel’s icy glare... and his fiery body.
Down in that horrifying dungeon, spread out against that cold wall, there was only one person who I was more frustrated with than Angel. Myself.
Thank god I had a bra on, because my nipples were pitched like tents. The last thing in the world I wanted was for him to see that. I’m sure Angel is the kind of guy who takes a mile when you give him an inch, and my little pink guys were practically begging to take his hard inches, despite my brain’s dull protests against the idea.
What kind of brute am I, to get off on something so shameful? Maybe Angel and I aren’t so different after all...
I push that troubling thought to the back of my mind as I watch the portly maid waddle over to a closet on the far side of the bedroom.
“What’s your name?” I ask, trying to distract myself from the hot waves washing up against my pelvis. I’m still shivering, but the further away I get from my time in the dungeon, the less I can remember of the fear and the more I’m overcome by something else... something that I don’t want to think about. Angel doesn’t deserve that from me, the bastard. He can’t ever know.
“Lady,” the maid bows when I finally decide to meet her over by the closet. It’s filled with a rainbow array of dresses and skirts and outfits. “My name is Lady.”
“What a beautiful name,” I mention, squinting my eyes at the selection before us. These all look suspiciously in my size.
“Not as beautiful as Catalina,” Lady giggles.
I grab the thickest, most conservative dress I can find on the rack. “I wish I was a little less beautiful right now.”
“It is too hot for that outfit!” Lady points out.
“Then I’ll sweat,” I say, stripping from my dirty yellow dress.
God, I could go for a shower right about now.
Not for Angel’s sake, of course, but for my own. I’m sticky and dusty under the thick grey gown that I’ve stuffed myself into. Still, it’s totally worth it to send the right signal. Even if Angel didn’t see my arousal in the dungeon, I want to make it clear that I’m not interested.
