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His smile widens, and he turns to face me directly. Two steps bring him closer to the bed. Suddenly, he stoops, picking something up from the floor.
“Right on time,” he says, eyeing the screen. A muffled sound comes from the device. A cell phone? It’s ringing. “Your son is very punctual, Lupe.” He hands me the phone, and I look down in confusion.
Then my heart soars, and I rush to answer it.
“Franco! Sweetheart, how have you been?”
“Good!” he chirps. “I like it here. They have lots of games, and I made a friend, Sam. When can you come visit me?”
“Soon, baby,” I say hoarsely. I look over to find Jaguar watching me. “Very soon. I miss you so much.”
“I miss you too!” He then rushes into a description of his dorm, the grounds, and his eagerness to begin his new courses. He sounds genuinely happy, and the sound of his chatter is enough to wash away any lingering doubts I may have had. Franco couldn’t fake this kind of joy.
And I can’t deny that only one man has made this possible.
“I have to go to class,” he says, startling me back to awareness. “I will call you tonight, okay?”
I smile at the gently stern note in his voice. “Yes, sir. Tonight.”
When he hangs up, I sigh and stare at the blank phone screen for so damn long. Finally, I look up. Jaguar has settled on a tie, it seems. He’s pulling on a black dress shirt over his tattooed chest, and my heart skips another beat. I rack my brain but can’t remember a time he wore formal clothing.
Just what does he have in store?
“I told him he should make time for his mama in the morning before class, and in the evening before bed. It seems he doesn’t need much encouragement to do so,” Jaguar explains, examining the cuffs of his sleeves. “Ruthless ambition must run in the family.”
I picture Tiena and cringe. He doesn’t even know half of it. Still, I can’t deny that he didn’t have to help Franco at all.
“Thank you,” I croak. “For doing that. It’s good to hear that he’s okay.”
“If we are to return in time for you to speak to him later, we should leave soon.” He fishes a cell phone from his pants pocket and utters a terse command I don’t catch. Then he turns to me and sheds his shirt, draping it over the end of the bed.
“It seems you don’t share the same enthusiasm for morning as Francisco,” he says.
I hold my breath as he advances and lifts me into his arms as though I weigh nothing. My hands instinctively lace together around his neck and before I can stop myself, I have my head resting on his shoulder. Without a word, he carries me into the en suite and commences with what I’m starting to realize must be a task he enjoys—bathing me from head to toe. He works slowly and carefully as if branding all traces of him into my skin.
When he’s satisfied, he bundles me in a towel and makes me sit on the edge of the bed while he dries my hair and arranges the damp strands loosely around my face. Our breakfast has arrived, and he watches me eat woodenly from a tray of food I assume has been meticulously prepared by Horatio. As I swallow down the last bites, Jaguar enters the closet and returns seconds later with a black dress exquisitely cut and probably worth more than anything I’ve worn in my entire life.
As he helps me into it, I notice that it’s starkly different from the flashy designs his harem women wear. It wasn’t picked out blindly without care given to the body that might wind up wearing it. This was designed with my shape in mind. My curves or lack thereof. He chose it for me.
“Beautiful,” he declares when I’m dressed. A pair of heels complete the look, and he hands me the purse I found waiting for me the other day and my new cell phone. “Let’s go.”
We leave the house, flanked by two of the guards he brought with him, but a fancy car isn’t waiting for us out front. Instead, Jaguar leads us down a path toward a garage large enough to hold at least four different vehicles. His preferred SUV is there, as well as a couple fancy sports cars, and a luxury sedan.
“Having trouble deciding which of your toys to take out today?” I quip, surprising myself. The man beside me has put me through an emotional and psychological roller coaster more times than I can count. It should be impossible to return to our twisted dynamic so easily.
Maybe I’ve grown soft in the years after Diego, so desperate to convince myself that I’m not that weak woman anymore. I won’t be fooled again or fall prey to the next man to show an interest.
The sad part is that it would be easy to write off Jaguar as another clone of my vicious ex. Too easy. But a part of me suspects that a man as cunning as he is has far more means in mind to trap his lovers than violence and brutality.
He uses charm.
“No,” he says against my ear, wrapping an arm around my waist. “You get to pick today. Choose carefully, Lupe. I know you can drive. If you could take out any of these ‘toys,’ which would it be?”
I suck in a breath and release it in a nervous laugh. “Well, I think I would pick that one.” I point to the flashiest of the two sports cars in a bright shade of cherry red. “Would you be worried I’d scratch it?”
“No.” He presses something into my hand that I glance down to inspect—and nearly choke.
“It’s yours,” he says.
