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“He did,” I confess. “But you haven’t. I’m sure there has been a time or two that you have. And I’m sure you’ve hit other women before. Maybe worse than a slap or two.”
Hands like his don’t get so calloused for nothing. He reeks of danger, and I am sure he is very capable of displaying it. Unlike Diego, though, I don’t think a wild temper is the true motivator behind his flashes of violence.
“You would hit a woman if you knew the fear would benefit you in the long run. Get her to jump the way you wanted. Get her to fear you enough to obey without complaint. You can be very restrained when you want to be, which means you utilize violence only as a weapon. If you thought slapping the shit out of me would truly get me to shut up, you would have. You’d rationalize it as for the greater good, I’m sure.”
A low rasp escapes him—a growl masquerading as a laugh. “I could always hit you if I fucking wanted to, Lupe.” He reaches out and presses his hand against my face—not hard enough to slap, but gently enough to serve as a warning. “Don’t doubt that for a second.”
I’m playing with fire in this instance, but I can’t help myself.
“You won’t,” I say. “Because the second you did, there would be nothing separating you from him. A known monster is preferable to the unknown. You would instantly relegate yourself to second best. He would always be first to me. Always.”
And maybe I don’t know his limits like I want to believe I do. I could be so desperate to escape Diego’s memory that I’d try to find the positives in another psychopath for as long as possible. The truth would always reveal itself eventually—they are one and the same.
“You talk a good game,” Jaguar says, patting my cheek. Every soft pat becomes a fraction harder, but never a true strike. “I’d warn you to watch that pretty fucking mouth, however, Lupe. We can blame the delirium from the beating you’ve already taken without me having to lay a single hand on you.”
He stands and saunters over to the pool, his arms extended playfully. “Who wants to play a round of chicken?”
His bimbos exclaim gleefully and begin to fight over who can sit on his shoulders first.
Rather than stay and watch, I use what little strength I have left to head inside via the dining room terrace. There, lurking nearby, I find Horatio. His dark eyes rake over me coldly and settle on my lower back.
My wounds throb so badly I’d be concerned if I were in my right mind. For now, I’m just eager to find a place to hide. I start in the direction of the lower level.
“Upstairs,” Horatio says before I’ve even taken a step. “His suite.”
Apparently, Jaguar isn’t so eager to let me have full reign of his house after all. Still, in this instance, I don’t push him. In fact, I think I may have pushed him more than enough. Too far, even.
Damn it. With every passing second, I think some more of my commonsense returns. What am I doing? Needling a bastard I know for a fact has my nephew in his grasp? What if he decided to put Franco in his pet jaguar’s cage next? God, I would never forgive myself if it got that far.
You need to get out of this fast, Pita,my intuition warns. Yes. I need to leave. Convince him that I’m not what he wants after all.
Though, I think he’s already made that more than clear. I’m not his type, not really. My only interest to Julian Domingas lies in the fact that he thinks another man wants me more.
Desperate to regain my focus, I enter the bathroom and eye my reflection skeptically.Dios mío.My forehead has a nasty scratch, and my eyes look sunken. I contort myself enough to spy my back and have to choke down a wave of bile.
It looks so damn bad. How the hell am I walking? Moving?
Maybe because life with Diego taught me to endure pain to an inhuman degree. More than a decade later, my body still remembers how. That thought saddens me. I’m dejected when I reenter Jaguar’s office. I don’t even have the heart to go through his desk. I just sit in the leather chair behind it and place my face in my hands.
How to get out of this mess?
“It’s done.”
I look over at the doorway to see Jaguar watching me. For how long? Long enough that he’s lost the playful smirk he wore around his bimbos. My misery is boring him.
“My gift for you,” he clarifies. “Once you go to sleep again, you will wake up as if this has been one bad, bad dream, Lupe. I’ve made your wish come true for the time being—I promise you that. I will need to drug you, though. I hope you don’t take offense.”
“Drug me. For what?” That request has so many horrific implications that I can’t even fathom them all at once. Stunned, I blurt, “So I can wake up in Gatita’s cage again?”
“No,” he says coldly. “So that I can uphold our bargain, Lupe. You want my protection? Your son safe from harm? Then you’ll understand that discretion is vital, and you’ll take the pill I offer you like the good girl I know you can be.”
Discretion? He does intend to move me somewhere, it seems. Horrified by the prospect, my reply is hoarse, “How can I trust you?”
His eyes flash to remind me of the promise I myself made to him.You will have all of me.
“Luckily for you, Tiena, trust isn’t what I want from you this time. Take the drug or not. It’s your choice. I do have another request, however. This one is nonnegotiable. Think of it as payment for the good deeds I’ve done for you.”
He advances, his hands at his sides, head cocked at a dangerous angle. “Will you refuse?”
