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“Blindfold. I don’t think you want me to walk you out through the courtyard.”
She swallows.
“There’s a secret passage, but you need to be blindfolded.”
“I want to talk to my brother,” she tries, the tone of her voice betraying her anxiety, her understanding of how powerless she is at this moment. But the decision has been made for her. And she will submit.
“In time. Do as I say and turn around. I’ll take it off as soon as we’re in the car.”
Tears slip from her eyes. “Why are you doing this to me? You’re supposed to be his friend.”
“I am his friend. That’s exactly why I’m doing this.”
Silence.
More tears.
I watch, transfixed. She is so wounded. And so fucking beautiful. I should have refused this task. The decent side of me knows this. Has known it all along. But the animal inside, it wants.
“Mercedes,” I say. “You’re tired. It’s been a very long night. Turn around. Let’s get this done and get you out of here.”
“I want to go home.”
“That’s not happening. Not now.”
“It was a mistake. I—”
“Turn around, Mercedes. I won’t ask again.”
She looks up at me, her lower lip trembling, stubborn pride warring against acceptance.
I set my hands on her arms and turn her, and she doesn’t resist. It’s the weight of the night. Of what she’s done. I slide the silk cloth over her eyes. She whimpers as I secure it at the back of her head, then walk around to look at her, my little captive. Her head bowed. Delicate wrists bound by thick rope.
Something shifts inside me at the sight. Something dark awakening. Wanting.
Fuck.
I swallow it down and lift her in my arms. She yelps and struggles momentarily. I tighten my grip in warning, and she stills, stiffening, pressing against my chest as I move toward the passage that leads to the tunnels beneath. Santiago chose this room with that purpose in mind, I’m sure. Save his sister from further humiliation. Protect her.
She makes a sound as I carry her down the stone stairs, tucking herself closer to me as her bare toes scrape the rough stone wall. And I know as I take my captive through the tunnels beneath the compound that tonight, the course of both of our lives has shifted. There will be no going back. Not for either of us.
3
Judge
She’s quiet on the drive to the house. As promised, I remove the blindfold but leave the rope around her wrists. Not that she’s going anywhere, but her lessons begin tonight. And I need to set expectations.
She keeps her gaze out the window as we drive the avenue of ancient, giant oaks toward the estate. She’s told me before how beautiful she finds it. Magical was the word she’d once absently used.
From the alley of oaks, the house comes into view, a classic albeit mammoth plantation home that my family built and has owned over centuries. It’s mine now. Since the passing of my grandfather, Carlisle Montgomery, half a year ago, I am the sole inheritor.
The mansion is beautiful. Elegant with balconies spanning all three floors supported by grand columns and ornate friezes in the Greek Revival style. The design is simple. Symmetry is the focus of the exterior, with a sweeping stone staircase leading to the front doors and large, evenly spaced windows with decorative shutters. Lights glow warm from within, hinting at the opulence that awaits.
It’s a very different sight from the gothic style of De La Rosa Manor.
Raul, my driver, pulls to a stop. Mercedes turns to me. She can’t hide the anticipation in her eyes. The anxiety of not knowing what comes next.
“Thank you, Raul,” I say as I climb out and walk around to open Mercedes’s door. I extend my hand to help her out, but she ignores it to lumber out on her own. She’s off-balance with her wrists bound and stumbles into my chest. I catch her, then right her. Although perhaps I should let her fall. Begin to teach her that she needs this. Needs me.
