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“Do as I say if you want to stay alive. Please.” His voice is firm, but something in that last word, like a survival instinct, makes me grab the dress.
“Turn your back.”
He does as I ask but doesn’t leave the room. I drop the towel and slide the dress over my head, arranging my C-cups into the clingy material.
“Okay,” I say, then he walks to me, pulls something out of his pocket, and starts layering gloss on my lips.
I slap him away. “What are you doing?”
When Dex doesn’t answer but continues to layer it on while his eyes flash with fury, I know I was correct in my assumptions.
He’s dressing me up for that horrible man.
If I’m lucky, I’ll be raped.
If not, I’ll die.
DECKER
“IHAVE TWO choiceshere,” I say, as Isabelle begins to hyperventilate. “I can convince you to trust me, or I can drug you so you’re compliant.”
I wouldn’t, although I do need to get her attention and snap her out of her fear.
Fear she has every right to be feeling. But here’s the thing about fear. It’s paralyzing and stops you from thinking clearly. It’s designed that way. It sets off chemicals in the body and sends all your blood to your body—away from the brain—so you can either run or fight.
Flight or fight.
Helpful if you are facing a lion.
Not so much in modern-day life. Our bodies haven’t evolved enough yet. Only this isn’t a science lesson. I’m thinking on my feet and working with what I have. A terrified, innocent woman who is as attracted to me as I am to her. A household full of gangsters who believe I’m one of them, which I need them all to keep thinking that.
So I cannot tell Isabelle who I am because it’s unlikely she’d keep it confidential over the next hour or two. Then bang-bang, we’d both be dead.
I need Pablo to believe I want this woman as my sexual prey, my toy, and because I found her first, he will hopefully let me.
Afterward, I will find a way to get her back to the United States alive.
