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Dornan sat back in his chair, surveying his father.
‘Sure,’ he said. ‘She’s just one little Colombian bitch; what’s the worst she could do?’
Emilio raised his eyebrows. ‘You know better than to assume that, boy.’
‘I’ll keep her under lock and key. I’ll make sure she’s watched by the brothers.’
Emilio grinned. ‘Just watched?’
Dornan laughed. ‘Of course not.’ Nobody else will fucking touch her. But Emilio didn’t have to know that.
He could see his father was teetering on the edge of a decision.
‘If she’s an issue, we deal with it. There’s nothing to say we can’t sell her again in a month. But in the meantime? She might be able to actually repay some of Marco’s debt.’
Emilio chewed on his lip. ‘Fuck it,’ he said, raising his glass in Dornan’s direction. ‘Take the little chocho. Work her. Make sure she experiences a full Gypsy Brothers welcome. And Dornan?’
He needed to get away from his father so he could smile. He needed to smile or his face was going to fucking break.
‘Yeah,’ he said, casual as anything.
‘I want photographs,’ Emilio said, taking a mouthful of whiskey and making a hissing sound as he swallowed. ‘I want to show that fucking Marco her blood. Her suffering. And I’ll be needing proof that this actually works. Otherwise, it’s a bullet for her.’
Dornan snickered. ‘As you wish, boss.’
Emilio launched out of his chair and gave his son a fatherly slap on the cheek as he left the room. ‘Lock up when you’re done,’ he called, and then he was gone.
Dornan waited a beat, keeping his breath even and measured.
He couldn’t believe it.
He grinned as he stood up, shoving his fists into his jean pockets to ease their shaking.
Emilio had bought the story, and Mariana was going to be his.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
MARIANA
Murphy had recovered from his knee in the balls enough to slap me. I knew he really wanted to smash his fist into my face, judging by the way his fingers twitched by his side, but he couldn’t very well mark me just before I was about to be sold, could he?
‘I should kick you in the cunt for that,’ he said.
I didn’t reply, too busy laughing instead. The door burst open and I was still smiling as I spun around in my pretty black dress. The smile died on my face as I saw him.
‘You,’ I whispered.
Dornan Ross leaned against the door frame, the smile on his face almost contagious in its intensity.
‘You’re dismissed,’ Dornan said to Murphy, never once taking his eyes from mine. Something burned between us; something powerful. Something that frightened me, because I liked it. I liked him. And I didn’t want to.
‘You’re interrupting,’ Murphy replied, grabbing my elbow. ‘This one’s up first, apparently.’
I drew in a sharp breath as I watched Dornan’s face transform from a smile to something terrifying. He took his gun out faster than I could blink — man, he was a quick draw — and aimed it at Murphy.
‘I said, you’re dismissed,’ Dornan replied, flashing the fakest cheesy grin I’d ever seen.
Murphy looked from me to Dornan and back again. My heart was hammering in my chest now, because he was here, and he had a gun to Murphy. Was this really happening? Was he here to help me? Surely not. He was the son of Emilio Ross.
