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I could have warned the scum bag who has tried to use my life as a bartering chip that the triplets wouldn’t give a fuck about me being taken. Well, that’s not entirely true. I’m sure Massimo and Marco are upset. Are they upset enough to go against Mateo? My heart sinks because I’m sure I know the answer.
No, they’re not willing to go against their brother for me.
Which is why I know the only way I’m getting out of here is when my brothers come and get me. I can rely on my blood. They’re the only men I’ve ever really been able to depend on.
I should have remembered that when I got involved with the triplets.
I should have remembered that Dante is not a fan of the three men who stole my heart.
I forgot or I ignored it. Now look where it’s gotten me.
Martinez steps forward and backhands me. There’s no warning and I gasp out in surprise more than pain. When I turn my face back to him, I wink at him like he just gave me a fucking love tap.
If I’m going to go down, I’m going to do so with my head held high and all my badass on full display.
“You think you won’t break,puta?” Juan shakes his head and makes a tsking sound as if he’s disappointed with my display. “You all break.”
I’m not sure if he’s talking about prisoners or women. Either way I’m incredibly offended by the insinuation, but I keep my mouth shut. There’s taunting for fun and then there’s taunting because you’re too stupid to shut up.
I’m not stupid.
“You’re going to fetch quite a nice price,” he jeers. “I’ll have a buyer for you in no time at all.”
My body stills and my blood runs cold. It’s one thing for me to be strapped to a chair in the middle of this shit pile of a warehouse, but it’s another thing to be sold. I don’t want any part of that.
The glint in Martinez’s eye tells me he’s hoping I beg for my life or my freedom. I won’t give him the satisfaction. Doesn’t mean I want to be sold.
One of Juan’s men steps forward and he starts to run his hands all over my body. I clench my jaw to stop myself from reacting to the man’s touch. I hope I get the chance to cut off his hands. See how well he can touch someone without consent then.
The thought of chopping the man’s hands off becomes my new happy place and I find myself smiling.
“What the fuck are you smiling at?” Juan’s voice is full of amusement, “Should have known you like to be touched like the whore you are.”
My eyes snap to him and I can feel the rage building inside of me. I know it’s because a man who I thought I was falling in love with called me the same vile name not long ago. I want to rail against the injustices of the world and what such an insult means.
Women are called whores when they enjoy sex and don’t think pleasure should only exist within a committed relationship. When a woman does what she wants with her body, she’s vilified.
The flip side is that when a man does the same thing, he’s praised for it. It’s excused as him sewing his wild oats or chalked up to just a quirk of biology. As if a man’s sex drive is always higher or more acceptable.
It’s ridiculous and the double standard makes me fucking sick.
I’m screaming at Juan in my head, but I force my face to remain neutral. At least until the man who is touching me pinches my nipple hard enough to make me flinch.
Juan gives me a sinister smile before tapping his chin as if he’s thinking of something. “It’s such a shame that I’ll get more money for you if you’re not broken first. So many buyers out there want to break in their toys.” He shrugs and sighs as if the whole thing is an inconvenience for him. “I’d much rather have the chance to break you. It might be worth taking the cut in payout.”
“Definitely worth it,” the man who has continued to touch me mutters.
I glare at the man and grit out through my teeth, “You won’t be as excited about touching anyone after you lose your hands.”
The man pulls his hands back as if I just burned him and Juan barks out a laugh.
“Oh yes, breaking you might just be worth losing a little money,” Martinez muses.
Another one of Martinez’s men tosses something on the ground in front of me. As much as I don’t want to look, I find my eyes straying downward. The pile of lace in front of me is small.
The man who tossed it grabs his dick through his pants and leers at me. “I can’t wait to see you in that outfit. Just the thought makes my dick hard.”
I arch an eyebrow at the man, but don’t utter a word.
