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My father might be at a house he owns outside of town.
She thought the words, but she couldn’t seem to form them, to say them aloud.
“I was just going to go back to bed.” Her throat felt so damn tight, and yet he still just stood there, blocking her exit.
“Your brother’s dead.”
She was frozen in place, his words surrounding her, making everything else fade away. Shaking her head, Angelina wasn’t sure she’d heard him correctly. He’d just blurted it out like he was telling her the weather.
“My brother’s dead?” She could hear the tightness in her voice, the shock.
“Yeah,” was all he said.
Looking down, Angelina didn’t know what to say to that. Marco was dead, and although she should have been sad, heartbroken even, because he was her brother, all she felt was this … relief.
“Did you do it?” she found herself asking, not sure why she wanted to know, but needing to hear him say it if he did. They held each other’s stares, and finally he pushed away from the door and crossed his arms over his chest, further making his muscles bulge.
“And if I did, would that make you hate me more?”
His dark hair was a wild mess of short strands around his head, as if he had been running his hands through it. He looked dark and sexy, like a demon, or maybe the devil standing before her. She found herself shaking her head.
“I don’t hate you as it is.” Whispering the words, she didn’t know if she should smack herself for saying them, or just embrace it. Angelina should hate him, despise him to her very soul. But she didn’t, and that confused her, made her feel all kinds of fucked up.
He lifted a dark eyebrow and smirked, as if he found the whole thing funny. That had her heart dropping into her belly.
“You don’t hate the man that followed you for weeks, stalked you, found out every detail of your day, and then broke into your house?” She didn’t respond, and he continued. “You don’t hate the man that drugged you, held your naked body in his arms, looked his fill of you, and took you back to his place as his captive?”
Her mouth was so dry, her tongue swollen.
He chuckled, but it was dark, haunting. “How can you not hate the man that has you chained up in a room, keeping you prisoner?” Fury stepped closer to her, but she was frozen in place, unable to retreat. “Maybe you’ll hate the man that could fuck you until you can’t walk straight, simply because he wants to get back at your father.”
Angelina did take a step back, because as much as she was afraid of Fury right now, at the challenge he presented, the danger and violence that poured from him, what she was most afraid of was herself and the desire she felt.
She was wet, her nipples hard, and the heavy weight of the chain around her ankle made this situation hotter, made her realize this man could do whatever he wanted to her and she wouldn’t have a choice but to accept it all.
And you’d like that, crave it even. You really are one messed up woman.
15
Her arousal rose, and that made Angelina’s anger do the same. She hated herself, her body’s reaction to this man, to her situation.
Had she been so sheltered, locked away that this imprisonment made her so hot she couldn’t even breathe?
Or was it something about Fury that had all self-respect and common sense leave her?
She clenched her hands at her sides and shook her head, although she didn’t know what she was trying to deny. Pushing her way past him she was surprised he let her leave.
He was drunk and arrogant enough that Angelina assumed he’d make her stay, force her to listen to what he had to say. Marco was dead, and she couldn’t even find enough emotion to give a shit.
There would be no tears shed, no remorse for the shitty sibling relationship they had. They’d had nothing together in terms of having a family bond, and aside from her brother being blood, he’d been a stranger to her, a cruel man that terrified her.
Going into the room, she turned, about to shut the door, but a startled sound left her at the fact Fury was right behind her.
“Go, leave,” she said, her voice raised, her anger and frustration causing her arousal to take a backseat and allowing her courage to rise.
But she had to crane her neck back just to look into Fury’s face, and Angelina couldn’t help the desire that washed through her at the sight of all the masculinity that poured from him.
“You got some balls telling me what I should do.” He stepped further into the room, and while staring at her, he shut the door behind him. They were closed in together, the smell of whatever dark and spicy cologne he wore, and the scent of the alcohol coming from him, filling the room and making her wetter.
