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“Rape me, torture me … do whatever it is you’re going to do to me to get the information I don’t have on my father.”
“I already fucking told you I have no plans to rape you.” He sounded even more pissed if that was possible. “And I don’t hurt women.”
“No, you just kidnap them and tie them up.”God, where is this coming from? I must have a death wish.
For a suspended moment they both just looked into each other’s eyes, and then he smirked and shook his head. He grabbed the chain and moved over to the wall. She’d just now seen there was a lock drilled in. He attached the chain to the wall and turned to face her.
“I’m not going to rape you or hurt you, but that’s not to say you won’t want me to do a hell of a lot of dirty shit to you eventually.”
Fat chance in hell.
Of course, she didn’t say that out loud.
“I’m not lying when I say I know nothing of my father’s dealings. I haven’t spoken to him in months, and even before that he didn’t tell me anything.” She told him that again and would until she was blue in the face. But she knew it wouldn’t have mattered because this man clearly had an agenda.
“You may think you don’t know anything,” he leaned forward, “but believe me, Princess, you know more than you think.”
She shook her head, but he pulled away, the conversation clearly done for right now.
“Finish eating and I’ll show you the bathroom so you can get cleaned up.” He turned, as if about to leave her in the room, and she felt her panic rise.
“Wait,” she said.
He stopped and looked over his shoulder at her, his short dark hair and dark eyes making him seem evil, like the very devil himself.
“I…” She looked around, first at the chain on her leg, and then at the wall where she was secured.
“You’re out in the middle of nowhere. Cry, scream, it doesn’t matter. No one will hear you.” He turned fully to face her. “And even if you did escape, we are miles upon miles away from anyone or anything.” He took a step toward her. “I’d find you before you reached anyone.”
She started crying. She couldn’t help it. Damn her father and the life he led for putting her in this situation. “You’re a fucking asshole.” She wiped her tears away. “Terrorizing a woman because you’re nothing but a motherfucking bastard.”
He didn’t move, didn’t speak. She wasn’t afraid, though. Her anger was controlling her in this second.
She grabbed the chain around her ankle and started pulling on it at the same time she screamed out.
“Fuck you, Fury.” It was the first time she’d used his name since she’d woken up, and it felt good to scream it out. “Fuck. You.”
8
Fury shut the bedroom door, his blood boiling and his rage mounting. He stormed into the kitchen, grabbed the bottle of scotch again, and drank the rest of it. When it was empty, he curled his fingers around the neck, reared his arm back, and threw the fucker against the wall.
Glass shattered and liquor residue sprayed everywhere.
This isn’t who you are. You don’t make women cry. You don’t terrify them.
He started going through the cabinets, needing more alcohol. He was a motherfucker, he knew that, but the tears he’d seen in Angelina’s eyes, the way she’d looked so scared, and the fact he had a good feeling she truly didn’t know shit about her father, made him feel like he’d tear right through his skin.
She’s a Cardona. Don’t let the waterworks or her saying she doesn’t know anything sway you from why she’s really here.
“Fuck,” he growled out. “What in the hell are you actually doing here?” With that he turned and stalked back toward the room. He threw the door open, and it slammed against the wall, startling Angelina. She had her hands wrapped around the chain, was by the lock in the wall, and clearly trying to escape.
He grinned, knowing it was far from humorous. He saw the way her eyes widened, heard her inhale sharply, and watched her back away.
As she retreated from him, her hands in front of her, the fear clear on her face, he felt his cock harden. She was gorgeous in every sense, even in the sweats and T-shirt he’d put on her before he left her place.
He took another step toward her, pissed with himself that he gave a shit about how Angelina Cardona felt.
“P-please,” she whispered.
