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“What makes you think that?” I snap, and the man laughs.
“The description Diego gave me matches up, not to mention a photo taken at the gala where your pretty Isabella ruined your life and hers. Javier Aguilar,” he adds, gesturing to himself. “I’m looking forward to our getting better acquainted, but first—” He glances over at one of the guards. “Bring in the girl.”
Fuck.I close my eyes, wishing to God that I’d been wrong and Isabella hadn’t been here yet. That she’d escaped somehow. Anything but what I see when Javier’s guards drag her squirming and struggling into the office, and her face goes white at the sight of me.
Even in the state she’s in—dressed in a black shift dress that hides her figure, her knees and palms scraped, her thick black hair tangled and matted, and her eyes swollen from crying, she’s beautiful. Those eyes go wide when she sees me, fresh tears welling in them, and her mouth silently forms the shape of my name as she glances over at Javier, terror filling her face.
Rage is all I feel as I get a better look at her—the scrapes and abrasions, the welts on her calves, the bruise on her jaw. “What did he do to you?” I snarl, and Isabella lets out a whimper as Javier’s attention returns to me.
“What I’ve been hired to do,” he says casually. “My fucking job, which is to return a biddable wife to Diego Gonzalez. Now, Niall, I hear that you’re not so good at doing your job. You were supposed to come to Mexico, barter a deal with Ricardo Santiago, and go back home. But you didn’t do that, did you?”
He looks back at Isabella, who is slumped between her two guards, looking frightened and exhausted. It feels like a knife to the gut to see her this way, and I want to murder every goddamn man in this room for putting his hands on her, ending with Javier—and slowly.
“Is this the man you lost your virginity to, Isabella?” Javier asks coolly. “The one you cuckolded Diego with?”
The defeat on Isabella’s face speaks volumes. The words seem to die on her lips, and Javier pushes away from his desk, grabbing a handful of her hair as he yanks her head back.
“Get your filthy hands off her!” I roar, but he ignores me.
“What did I tell you about answering questions, Isabella?” he asks, and she swallows hard.
“Yes,” she whispers, her voice a tiny cry, and I let out a grunt of frustration. Something in me wells up, hearing her admit it for the second time, and I glare at her. All of my anger up until now has been directed at Diego, at Javier, but I haven’t entirely forgotten that I’m angry with her, too.
“Jesus, Mary and Joseph, Isabella, you couldn’t have managed to lie to this bloody cunt, at least, after you fuckin’ lied to everyone else?”
Isabella jerks back as if I slapped her, and I feel an instant, searing guilt for speaking to her that way. I open my mouth to soothe the wound left by my words, but Javier is already talking before I can—laughing, in fact.
“Don’t worry, Niall,” he says, grinning in my direction, baring perfect white teeth. “I already knew. I just wanted to make Isabella say it out loud. Part of her lessons, you see. I think we could both agree she could use a few more in learning to tell the truth.”
“There’s not a goddamn thing in this world we agree on,” I growl at him, and Javier’s eyes narrow.
“Isabella.” He stands up, pacing towards her. “Do you remember when I said that if there was anyone left you cared about, that you should wish they didn’t come after you?”
She nods miserably, unable to look me in the eye. I can see hers welling with tears, and my anger is instantly replaced with a deep, nearly painful need to reach for her, to hold her in my arms and wipe the tears away.
“This is why,” Javier says coolly, gesturing towards me. “Do you want to know what I’m going to do to him, little one?”
Isabella shakes her head, the tears in her eyes beginning to spill down her face. “No,” she whispers, but Javier keeps speaking anyway.
“I’m going to have my guards take him downstairs, to a room made especially for getting answers. Your husband-to-be has one of those rooms, too, I guarantee it. He might even take you down there one day to play with you, if you continue to displease him. Do you know what I do in a room like that?”
My gut clenches as Isabella looks up at him, her dark eyes full of misery that cuts me to my core. “No,” she whispers, the tears dripping off her chin. “Please, Javier—”
His hand moves so quickly even I almost don’t see it until her head whips sideways, a red mark blossoming on the other side of her jaw. “You only speak when I ask you a question!” Javier snarls. “I have other rooms downstairs too, Isabella, rooms made for punishing women for whom their husbands have lifted all the rules. If you continue to disobey, you will find yourself down there.”
“Fuck off,” I growl, lurching forward even as the guards’ hands tighten on me. “Leave her alone, and get on with whatever you plan to do to me.”
Javier smirks. “Don’t you see, Niall? We’ve already begun. Although it’s pretty little Isabella’s fault that you’re here at all, you still care for her, don’t you? I can see it in your face, the way you fight to get to her, the way you react at each blow, whether it is with my tongue or my hands. So forcing you to watch her like this, that is a torture in and of itself.” He straightens, his smirk spreading into a grin. “I told you, I am very good at my job.”
“Fuck you.”
Javier shrugs. “You will find better words to roll off that tongue soon enough when my tools begin their work. That is what I will do to him, little one,” he adds, turning back to Isabella. “I will take bits of him, hurt him in ways that perhaps he hasn’t even imagined until I get all the answers I desire. And then, once I am satisfied, I will begin on what Diego will certainly ask for once my men alert him to your lover’s presence here.” He reaches out, tilting Isabella’s chin up, so that she’s forced to look at both of us.
“Your husband will almost certainly wish for me to remove his cock while you watch, so that you can see just how much pain your little game has caused. By then, he will no doubt be begging for me to end him. I will, of course, grant his wish—albeit in ways slow enough that you can see every excruciating moment, seared on your imagination for the rest of your long life, little Isabella. And then, when I am finished, I think you will agree to go back to Diego. And if not?” Javier grins lopsidedly. “Perhaps then Diego will allow me to take certain—liberties with you.”
“Stop this!” I shout, but the sound of Isabella’s sobs nearly drowns out my own voice.
“Please,” she gasps. “Please, don’t kill him. I’ll do anything. Please, please don’t kill him—” She repeats it over and over through sobs, sagging forward in the guards’ clutches as she pleads.
