I heard what he was saying. I could feel the anger surrounding his tense body and even understood the meaning.
Only my mind had difficulty processing anything. I was lost. I was sick. I was alone.
I was his prisoner.
He took gulping breaths before pulling me into his arms, placing his hand on the back of my head. The warmth of his body and his rapidly beating heart were enough to calm the fear, the ragged edge of my nerves.
"That was stupid, Valencia. That was... You're never going to do that again. Jesus."
I clung to him like some wayward child, catching my breath as the realization set in that there was someone else out there determined to kill me.
Who?
Why?
I could only imagine.
He took a series of deep breaths before easing me against the elevator wall, cupping and lifting my chin with one hand. His gaze was full of admonishment but also something else.
Fear.
I'd never seen that kind of emotion in him. He was always in control, a dark and dangerous man. Today, he'd taken a misstep of his own, something I doubted would ever happen again.
"I'm... sorry," I managed. The way his fingers dug into my skin was invigorating, yet a distinct reminder of the demanding man he was. I clenched my jaw, every nerve standing on end, the electricity almost blinding in its effect. When he lowered his head, his lips almost touching mine, I realized I'd moved to standing on my tiptoes, forcing our mouths now a mere centimeter away. I drank in not only his rich and exotic scent but the rage encompassing everything about him.
As he'd told me before.
He never lost.
The attempt on my life had thrown him.
I reached down, rubbing my hand against my ankle, wincing. At least it wasn't broken.
"Are you? Are you really?" He laughed softly, taking a step back and raking his hand through his hair. He gazed down the length of me, visibly cringing. "I'm not certain you really are, but you are going to listen to me and by God, you are going to follow my orders. Do you understand?'
"Yes."
"I didn't hear you."
"Yes!"
Once again, he closed the distance between us, his eyes mere dark pools of the man inside. "I will ask you one. More. Time. Do you understand?"
What the hell did the man want from me? Respect. He thought he could garner respect from threatening me. From protecting me.
From saving my life.
"Yes. Sir."
His features softened and he issued a slight nod. "Better. You will learn. Period." He turned toward the metal console, his index finger pressing one of the buttons. "How is your ankle?"
"Fine."
He slammed his hand against the cold metal, his frustration clawing to the surface once again. "We'll put ice on it."
"I told you, it's fine. Really." As the elevator shifted into rising once again, I continued to shiver.
From what had almost occurred.
From what would happen in the future.
From the emotions rolling through me.
He shifted his gaze in my direction, his shoulders heaving. "Do you understand that your father offered you to me, that he was willing to do this to his own daughter for a drug deal?"
I was actually supposed to answer the damning question? I certainly wasn't going to allow him to see a hint of doubt regarding my father. "I don't know what you're talking about. My father is merely using you, nothing more. I am his princess."
The words seemed to amuse him, a smile curling across his mouth. "Believe what you want. I know the truth. When you're ready to learn, you can let me know. Until then, I am your master."
Master? I clenched my fist, wanting nothing more than to beat him to a bloody pulp. Instead, I fisted my mouth, biting back nasty words and angry shouts. I knew that wouldn't do me any favors.
Somehow, I managed to slide the heels onto my feet, my ankle throbbing, yet I refused to give in to my weakness. I swayed back and forth from the hard chill, quivering all over. I was sick inside, more apprehensive than I'd been in such a long time.
Since Miguel had been in Cuba.
Since he'd taken me for one amazing night.
Since he'd reminded me that I was little more than property.