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‘Wait,’ Emilio said.
I stayed where I was, not game enough to look at him.
Dornan cleared his throat but said nothing.
‘Face to the floor,’ Emilio ordered, walking around behind me. ‘Hands by your sides.’
I did what I was told. I didn’t want him to kick me between the legs. I didn’t want to make him angry at me when I was this vulnerable in front of him.
I pressed my forehead to the musty carpet, hoping I wouldn’t catch herpes from it. I ground my teeth as I felt a hand grab each of my ass cheeks and spread them apart.
I choked a little on a cry. I was still tender down there. My eyes watered as fingers touched and probed, like I was being prepared for a fucking pap smear.
‘Have you been a good girl, cholita?’ Emilio asked, as he pressed his fingers against me.
I whimpered at his touch. It wasn’t like Dornan’s. It didn’t make me want to move closer.
It made me want to die.
‘Yes,’ I replied, fresh tears stinging my eyes.
He patted my left ass cheek, a strange gesture, then pulled my skirt down so I was covered again.
‘That’s good to hear,’ he said. ‘You may get up now.’
I felt Dornan’s eyes on me as I stood and pulled my skirt back down to cover myself. But I couldn’t look at him. Instead, I stared at the floor as anger and disgust burned between my legs and in twin pools of flame on my cheeks.
You’re nothing. You’re mine.
Dornan might have taken me away from his father’s cruel grip, but there was no mistaking the fact that Emilio still owned me.
* * *
Two hours later, and I was wading knee deep in shit. In corruption and double-accounting that was cleverly disguised, but not cleverly enough for a girl who specialised in it. I’d been doing it in my father’s business ventures for years, managing to scrabble money from people who thought they owed it to us when they actually didn’t. The accounts were a mess, but the same, seemingly innocuous deductions were taking place twice over and then over again.
‘Find anything useful?’ Emilio asked.
I snapped my gaze to him. I hadn’t even been aware he was in the room. I fought the rising terror in my throat as I remembered what a spiteful, strong-willed girl I had been the night I met him.
I didn’t know where she was anymore. I craved her, but I knew if she showed her face too many times, I’d end up dead.
Submission it was, then. Even the word tasted like a lie.
He must have seen the apprehension in my face because he pulled up a chair and sat across from me.
‘Tell me,’ he demanded.
I swallowed. ‘Please don’t kick me in the ribs for telling you,’ I said, handing him a piece of paper I’d used to tally all of the dodgy figures I’d found so far. ‘But someone is stealing from you.’
He appeared calm. But something about his expression told me I’d surprised him.
‘This much?’ he asked, pointing to the figure at the bottom of the page.
I nodded. ‘Yes, sir. I’m only halfway through the stack, so it could go higher.’
I called him ‘sir’ because I refused to call him ‘master’. I hoped that he wouldn’t notice.
Something flashed in his eyes. He was pissed. His annoyance made me want to laugh hysterically. But I clamped that down.
