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“Let’s not think about that now,” I say. “It seems like you’re finished eating. Why don’t you show me your room?”
“Okay!” He smiles, and any hint of despair vanishes as he bounds up a winding main staircase and into a room down the hall from where I woke up. As he’d excitedly conveyed earlier, it’s spacious, painted orange, and decorated perfectly to the tastes of a young boy.
I’m surprised that Jaguar even took the time to do so.
I’m…impressed.
Paranoia supplies a million different potential motives for the gesture—none stemming from the goodness of Jaguar’s black heart. A fully decorated room to Franco’s particular tastes doesn’t seem like a temporary arrangement, and as Franco enters a closet already stocked with clothing in his size, I do a double take. Jaguar didn’t mean this to be a brief stay before returning to his manor laden with bimbos.
It seems, he aims to keep us here.
Though hell, if Franco and I both can live in a mansion, far away from him, that can’t possibly be a bad thing. Can it?
While Franco chooses an outfit for the night and bathes in a claw-foot tub in his very own en suite, I try not to let my fear show.
Jaguar may be a psychopath, but he does know quality architecture.
His ability to distract traumatized boys is also impressive. This Franco, giggling beneath a layer of bubble bath, doesn’t even compare to the quiet, shell of a boy I saw last in Braulio’s grasp. He’s animated, chattering aimlessly about video games and toys, unconcerned by his sudden change of scenery. He doesn’t even bring up his parents as much as I thought, though a new figure seems to dominate nearly every other topic he mentions, “Mr. Jaguar said that—”
“No, baby.Mr. Domingas,” I sternly correct, earning a startled glance from Franco.Damn it.“I just mean…” I choke out a nervous laugh and run my fingers through his damp hair, hoping I come across as playful. “He is a very powerful man, but he isn’t our friend. You just met him, after all. We must be respectful.”
“Yeah.” Franco nods, scrunching his nose in agreement. “He’s nice, though. He played with me while you were sleeping.”
I feel the blood drain from my face. “W-What? How?”
I brace myself for mentions of bloodied cages or hungry pet felines.
My terror eases a little when Franco shrugs. “Video games and ball. He showed me how to dribble. I’ve been wanting to learn forever.” His voice grows soft, his eyes downcast. “Papa was always too busy.”
From his awed tone, I suspect that Braulio rarely had time for him. Not long ago, I would visit him nearly every day when allowed, but I rarely stayed long. There was only so much of Tiena and her antics that I could take. While there, however, I spent nearly all my time with Franco, and I regret not rescuing him sooner.
Well, I’m here now. I intend to shower him with all the affection I have. After drying him off, I hug him for far too long. He has to tug at my hair before I finally relent and follow him back into his bedroom.
“Goodnight, baby.” I squeeze him one last time before tucking him into bed. Then I shut off the lights and prepare to leave.
Only I don’t.
Upon waking up to an orange stream of daylight flooding the room hours later, I realize with horror that I slept here, right beside Franco’s bed. Still dozing, he is blissfully unaware of my presence. After kissing him on the cheek, I sneak into the hall and wander to my room.
Thank God, Jaguar isn’t lurking inside. His absence, however, only fuels my increasing dread of our inevitable meeting. I refuse to sit around waiting for him in a nightgown, though. I search the room and find a door that leads to a large walk-in closet. Before Jaguar forced me to swallow that supposed sleeping pill, I don’t remember packing, but I expect him to provide at least a change of clothes.
Instead, I find every shelf bare, every hanger empty. A gasp escapes my lips as I feel my heart sink. Oh, God. Is this his way of telling me that, while he prepared this house for Franco, I’m not welcome? Will he separate us again?
Dios mío, I couldn’t bear it. My eyes well up with tears, and I collapse onto the edge of the bed, feeling sick to my stomach. As I’m lost in thought, I don’t notice when a shadow falls over the door.
Not until it’s too late.
“Finally, the vicious little viper dares to make an appearance,” a low, rasping voice calls out. Slowly, I look up at the creature watching me through the doorway.
A monster looms ahead, his eyes dangerously dark, his expression cold. A black shirt and pants accentuate his feral nature, and the resulting look sends shivers down my spine. Remarkably, it doesn’t feel like fear.
A strained prickling sensation builds beneath my skin as he cocks his head to take me in with a searching glance that starts with my head and slowly travels downward. Heavy-lidded eyes, dark with raw lust, rake over my trembling limbs with an open hunger he had enough tact not to display in front of Franco.
There’s no hiding it now. My throat goes dry as I notice the front of his slacks strain. When his fingers twitch at his sides, I’m sure he’ll issue some degrading command.On your knees…
Instead, he clenches his jaw so hard a muscle twitches, as if to fight back the desire. Only then do I see the anger smoldering in his gaze. Hell, maybe I imagined the previous lust merely to stall.
For the first time, I’m forced to face the wrath of Julian Domingas with no relief in sight.
