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Chapter Three
Staring in horror atthe room in front of her, Amara tried to back out of the doorway, but her captor was still holding her arms in a grip like iron.Fuck. How the hell had she managed to go from predator to prey so fucking quickly?
And why was she staring at a room that looked like it had been decorated by a five-year-old on a sugar high?
Her mind raced, searching desperately for some kind of explanation that might make an ounce of sense. “I didn’t know you had children.” He didn’t. She’d known him her entire life, for fuck’s sake. If he had children, she would know. But nothing else made anysense.
Behind her, Emilio chuckled and the sound sent a shiver of fear down her spine. “I don’t. Come, let’s get you into something more appropriate, and then you can use the restroom.”
“I can dress myself, Emilio.”
His breath tickled her ear when he leaned in. “Need I remind you, I’m not above whipping your pretty little bottom to ensure your obedience, Amara?”
Of course he didn’t need to remind her. The stripes he’d laid down on her ass still burned. “No.”
“I didn’t think so.” With more force than she felt was necessary, he pushed her toward the long, cream-colored dresser set along the far wall of the bedroom. Without releasing his hold on her, he bent and opened a drawer, revealing an explosion of ruffles and—fuck her—more pink.
He expertly plucked two items from the drawer before shutting it again, leaving her to wonder exactly how many times he’d performed this dance with other women. None with women who’d tried to kill him, she was willing to wager, but that seemed like a minor detail in lieu of her current situation.
“I’m going to release your hands, and you’re going to lift your arms over your head.Capisci?”
“Sì.”
“Good girl,” he murmured, and her traitorous heart fluttered at his praise.
When he released her, she immediately lifted her hands over her head as instructed. For now, she needed to just go along with whatever this plan of his was. As soon as he went to bed, she could work on escaping.
With a whisper of silk, her dress was lifted off of her, leaving her in only the white strapless bra and matching lace panties she’d donned earlier in the evening.
“You look beautiful, Amara. But such contraptions aren’t appropriate for little girls.”
Before she could voice her outrage at being spoken to like a child, the bra loosened and the cool air caressed her nipples into hard points. Her underwear soon followed, leaving her naked to his gaze.
“Enjoying the show?” she snapped, glaring over her shoulder at him.
“Indeed.” Seemingly unfazed by her indignation, he moved in front of her and crouched down, holding out a pair of shorts adorned with more ruffles than an eighties prom dress. “Step in.”
Surely he had to be joking. “I am not wearing those.”
Even kneeling at her feet, he exuded absolute control. “I’ll give you a choice, then.”
“What?”
