AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Wanna bet?” He stalks forward and grabs my wrist when I try to turn and escape into the bathroom. “I don’t murder my lovers, Christabelle. I make them come and beg for more.”
“How many children do you have?” I attempt to tear my arm from his grasp. “How many bastard Malones exist?”
“None that came from my balls.” He tugs me closer until our chests clash and the oxygen in my lungs explodes free to bathe his face. He takes a long whiff, despite the fact it’s morning and I haven’t brushed my teeth yet. “I didn’t know sweet-smelling breath was a sign of ‘Christabelle is dying’.” He inhales a second time and grins. “Now I do. You could’ve said something, by the way. I commented on the fruity smell more than once.”
“Forgive me for not confiding in the man who kidnapped me. Iunderstand my lack of trust must have been hurtful for your fragile ego.”
He doesn’t take offense to my words. Instead, he clutches my hip and crushes me close, his cock pressing to my belly and his pulse thudding against mine. “My fragile ego would like you to get on your knees and suck my dick.” His grin stretches wider. “Please.”
My eyes narrow to dangerous slits. “Excuse me?”
“Ya know. To let me know that you do, in fact, like me.” He doesn’t push me down, though I get the feeling he would, and has almost certainly done so to other women in the past. Instead, he massages a knot in the small of my back and almost draws a groan from deep in my throat. “My ego, being as fragile as it is, gets me down sometimes. I want you to please me, Christabelle. Just as I want to please you. This is how I show I value your presence in my life. In exchange, it would make me happy if you used your words and told me what a fuckin god I am.”
“Oh please.” I spin out of his hold and stride into the bathroom. “No thank you. You can buy sex easily enough, you don’t need my ego-stroking platitudes.”
“I want you to stroke more than my ego, Darling.” He comes to stop in the doorway and kicks one ankle over the other. His tie, still untied. “I’m a needy man.”
“Yet I’m not the type of woman who’ll fulfill those needs.” I turn the tap on and wait for the water to warm, then I look into the mirror and meet his eyes. “Your phone is ringing, Mr. Malone. Might I suggest you get back to work and let me get back to mine?”
He makes a sound in the back of his throat, part grunt, part moan. But he reaches into his pocket and saves his phone before the call rings out. Swiping his thumb across the screen, he turns on his heels and brings it to his ear. “Mr. Cordoza. Hey.”
Mr. Cordoza. The Big Mac. The powerful man who’ll destroy all others if they step out of line.
Felix is a fool if he thinks I’m a New York nativeanda journalist, and I don’t already know who Estefan Cordoza is.
Shaking my head and leaning over the basin, I cup warm water in my palms and bring it up to wash my face.
I would kill for clothes that belong to me. For shoes. A bra. I want my phone and laptop, but I have no friggin’ clue where they are.
I want my world back. My autonomy. My freedom.
Even if a woman could grow to enjoy the company of her captor, a lack of choice makes any four walls feel like a prison.
“Yes, sir.” Felix meanders closer again, his voice deadly serious. His responses, short and sharp. “Yes. I’ll take care of it. Quietly,” he confirms when Cordoza clearly demands it. “You won’t see smoke coming from my house, Mr. Cordoza.” He stops in the doorway and meets my eyes when I switch the water off and straighten out to snag a towel. “Yes, sir. I’ll come by your office in an hour.”
He pulls the phone from his ear without saying goodbye, ends the call, then he drops both the device and his hand into his pocket. “I have to head out today.”
“Give me ten minutes.” I quickly mop the water from my face and toss the towel aside. “I can get my things together, and I’ll happily get out of your way.”
Chuckling, he grabs my arm when I attempt to flee the bathroom, and yanking me back, he catches me before I stumble and fall to the floor. “Micah is coming with me today, Darling. Which means my men will stay behind and watch you.”
“Your men?” My temper burns hot, from zero to boiling in the space of a single second. “I don’t even want to be here withyou.I especially don’t want to be the prisoner of some random mafia soldier!”
“That’s really unfortunate, then.” He tugs me up, forcing me onto the tips of my toes, and stops only when his nose touches mine. “You can’t come with me, but you’re not going home. And I can’t stay here with you today. So it seems we’re at an impasse.”
“Seems you’re as much the criminal jerkoff that your father was. You like to pretend you’re better, morecivilized. But you’re exactly the same.”
“I’ve yet to fuck you without your permission.” His lips twist with challenge. “Though it would be a lie to say I haven’t thought about it. Your body is the stuff of my filthiest fantasies, and you’ve spent more time weak and unconscious here, than awake and strong.”
Revulsion roils in my stomach. “They should have called you Timothy the Fourth. Seems the apple didn’t fall far from that tree.”
“The apple rolled away from the tree three decades ago, Darling. It dropped to the ground and rotted away to the core. I’ve been good to you. I’ve been kind. But it would be best that you don’t forget whose house you’re in.”
He wrenches me close and smacks a noisy, close-mouthed kiss on the center of my lips. “You’re not leaving. But you’re welcome to use any computer in my home to do your research.” He releases me so quickly, my legs buckle and my back hits the opposite side of the doorframe. “There are limits, of course, for how far the internet access extends. So don’t get your hopes up thinking you could call your friends to come save you.”
He takes a step back, looks me up and down with longing in his stare, then he spins and goes back to battling with his tie.
I watch in stunned disbelief as he snatches up his suit jacket and stomps out of the room. Then I lean back against the doorframe and press a hand to my chest, my heart thumping to the same beat as Felix’s shoes along the stairs as he heads down.
