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All the dots were connecting in my head. Juliana’s fear of men, but yet seeking refuge in a BDSM club – now, it all fucking made sense.
Andres Garcia was a sick son of a bitch – treated woman worse than dirt. Most either eventually died, committed suicide, or were so fucked in the head that they lost all sense of themselves and stayed.
Something told me he’d fucked his daughter up – that Juliana was the way she was because of Andres.
Not wanting to make decisions for herself? It wasn’t because she was tired of fighting. It was because she didn’t know how. She’d never been allowed that privilege.
Her Daddy kink? She wanted a man to finally take care of her in the way she’d never been taken care of.
Being mute? That shit stemmed from the fact that she’d probably never been allowed to speak wherever he’d had her locked up.
And I had no doubt in my mind that she was afraid of anything being around her neck – besides my hand, that was – because he had chained her like he did to all of his other women.
He’d treated his daughter no better than he treated his women.
I fisted my hands by my side, barely resisting the urge to pummel them into the side of Adrian’s SUV.
When I got my hands on that son of a bitch, I’d smile at him as he breathed his last fucking breath if I didn’t fuck his daughter in front of him first.
Because she was mine.
And I also vowed to myself that as long as Juliana wanted me to do all of her fighting for her, as long as she needed me to take care of her, I fucking would.
She would never have another man let her the fuck down again.
