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But I’m the puppet master here, and she must learn that.
“You will eat the meal on that tray and every meal that comes after it.” I pull myself away from her and stand back on my feet.
“You can’t make me.” She shakes her head slowly, seeming disappointed at the distance I’ve put between our bodies.
“Liam Hayes,” I say the two words that I know will put horror on her face. And it works. Immediately her eyes widen, and the confidence drops from her lips.
“Your brother, yes?” I shove a hand into one of my pockets to stop myself from touching her again. “The boy who is to put a bullet in my skull?”
“I swear if anything has happened to him…” She moves to launch at me, but something makes her stop herself and back away slowly.
“Shhhhhh,” I hush her, stroking my free hand through her shiny red locks. “Don’t worry, nothing has happened to him… Yet.” There’s a threat in my whisper that makes her shudder, and when those wolf eyes look back up at me, I swear they don’t blink.
“My men are just waiting for my call. A call I won’t have to make if you start to show a little more appreciation.”
I watch her shoulders sag with relief, and now that I have her beat, I move over to the seat positioned beside the balcony window and make myself comfortable.
“Go ahead, enjoy your meal.” I wave my finger in the direction of the food-filled tray before lighting up a cigarette and waiting for her next move.
With hate-filled eyes, Riley lifts the tray onto the bed in front of her and starts to eat. I watch every mouthful enter her lips. She must be starving after so long without food, but out of stubbornness, she eats slowly and with a disobedient elegance that makes me want to throttle her.
I wait until the plate is clean before I go to her, taking the tray and placing it back on the side table.
“Good girl. Now thank me for taking care of you so well.” I stroke my thumb over her cheek and tilt my head.
Riley scorns at me, and for a moment, I don’t think she will comply.
“Thank you.” She says the words so quietly, I almost don’t hear them. But she squeals loud enough when I take a fistful of her hair and use it to pull her up off the bed and closer to my mouth.
“Never jeopardize your health to try to fuck with me again,” I warn, throwing her back down onto the mattress and getting the hell away from her before I lose any more of my control.
I hear a gentle tap at the door, followed by clipped and efficient footsteps on the wood floor that I know belongs to Sylvia. When I peel my eyes open, I see her place a fresh tray of food on the table beside my bed before moving over to the window to strip the curtains back and let the light shine into the room.
“Good morning, Miss Riley.” She speaks chirpily, picking up the old tray from last night and placing it by the door, ready to take it away.
“How are you feeling today?” Perching on the end of my bed, she places her hands on her lap and smiles at me warmly.
“I pissed Rafe off again,” I croak, sitting up and examining the tray of food she's brought up for me this morning. It looks delicious. There are fresh berries, granola, and another bowl beside it with, what I assume, is yogurt.
Resisting the meals she’d brought me the last few days has been challenging, especially since living on the streets taught me never to take food for granted. My hunger strike was a risk, but it got Rafe’s attention. And it also proved I could make him hurt the same way he’d made me hurt when he fucked that nasty, blonde slut.
I don’t know why, but I get a kick out of making Rafe lose his temper. Maybe it’s because he only touches me when he’s mad and as disgraceful as it is to admit, I like to be touched by him a whole lot.
I should be celebrating the glory of my victory right now, but it turns out Rafe had a trump card.
My brother.
Liam can handle himself. He’s been protecting me for as long as I can remember. I’ve seen him fight men twice his size, despite barely being a man himself. I made threats to Rafe the night he brought me here, but in reality, Liam stands no chance against Rafe and the armed men he has working for him.
“Raphael isn’t used to being tested.” The old woman moves the breakfast tray onto my lap, encouraging me to eat.
Rafe made that clear himself when he threatened to force-feed me.
“So, is this to be my life now? Wake up, eat, shower. Put on a clean shirt, eat again. Read, eat, sleep.” I stare into my yogurt and sulk as I mix it with some granola.
“I can think of worse ways to live.” Sylvia sounds as if she knows the details of my past, but I doubt she does.
“He threatened my brother,” I add, wondering if the kind old lady is aware of how brutal the man she works for can be. Sylvia looks like the kind of woman who goes to church every Sunday. It’s hard to believe she condones kidnap and entrapment.
