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His words are like a slice to my heart.
He doesn’t trustme. Seems rich coming from the man who kidnapped me.
“Understood.” I stand, shoving back my chair.
He grabs my forearm, preventing me from walking away.
“Mila.”
“No.” I cut him off with a slight shake of my head. “I only helped save the life of your right-hand man and closest friend and made sure you didn’t get an infection and lose your arm, but it’s fine. I understand my place.”
“And what place is that exactly?”
“What it’s always been. I’m your prisoner. You’re free to use me any way you want and I get nothing out of it in return.”
“Nothing out of it.” He stands, towering several inches over me rather than sitting below me. “If memory serves, you got plenty out of it last night.”
My skin burns at the memory but I don’t let that distract me.
“I’m not talking about orgasms, asshole.” I jerk my arm out of his grip. “I’m talking about respect.”
“I do respect you.”
“Just not enough to fill me in on what’s happening.”
“Mila,” he blows out a heavy breath, “please do not test me right now. You know I can’t. It’s not safe for you.”
“Not safe for me.” I laugh loudly, gesturing around the bloody room. “Look around, Mateo, me being here isn’t safe. Yet here I am. So don’t give me your bullshit excuses. You won’t include me because you don’t want to. But hey.” I throw my hands up. “Probably for the best. You don’t want me spilling inside secrets to the Herrera Cartel if I ever get out of here. Oh wait, you already have someone telling them everything they need to know. Maybe you should reevaluate your judgement when it comes to trusting people. Because clearly you suck at it!” I spin around and head for the door.
I’m overreacting. Of course I am. Because in truth, while him keeping me in the dark does bother me, because Iwanthim to trust me, I’m not sure I want to know the inner workings of this cartel. Because he’s right, it would put me in more danger than I already am. But I’m still irritated by the way he acted this morning. How he went from the man who spent the night making me feel like the most special woman in the world, to a man that could barely look at me as he fled my room, making me feel like a common whore. And it was so abrupt, like someone flipping a light switch.
“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” he booms after me.
“To my room.” I turn in the doorway. “Or do you have a problem with me washing all this blood off of me? Perhaps you’d like to make me sit in it for a while.”
His features soften.
“No, you can go.”
“How kind of you,Master,” I seethe, promptly stomping out of the room.
