She took several additional long breaths, her eyes little more than daggers.
I walked toward the door, folding my hand around the threshold. I knew if I turned around to face her, I might change my mind, her draw too intense. "I will return."
Utter and complete silence.
I waited for several seconds before tapping my hand against the molding and walking out.
"When?" she asked in a diminutive voice.
I shoved my hands into my pockets, avoiding the ticking in my ears. "I will never leave you, at least not permanently, Valencia. If you run, I will hunt you. If you are taken, I will find you. If you are hurt... Then I will handle the person responsible. You have my word of honor. If God is willing, one day I will make you my wife."
As I closed the door, I knew it was only a matter of time before my promise was placed to the test. Valencia
Hunt.
I could only imagine him hunting me like the true predator he was. I hissed, snapping my head in the direction of the door, wincing the moment it was closed, and I was all alone. Asshole. Jerk. Prick!
He actually believed that I would become his wife under any circumstances? The man had to be joking. I would rather throw myself off a cliff than marry such a dangerous, ruthless, and unscrupulous man.
A single creaking sound forced a slight whimper and I half expected to see a boogeyman easing from the intense shadows. I shifted my head back and forth, lightheaded from anxiety.
The darkness was suffocating, creating a wave of terror, memories of hiding in a closet while my father's soldiers swept the house and grounds something I would never forget. I shivered, counting to ten. Then twenty. I'd been able to conquer my fears before. This... monster wasn't going to drag me back into my weakest state. Besides, Miguel said he'd be back, and I knew he would. But when? How long was he going to leave me here, bound like some criminal?
Or bad little girl.
I groaned from the thought.
As if I could believe anything he said.
Bastard.
I wanted to scream out every ugly name in the book and his words should have ignited my fury, but they didn't. I was trembling all over, my pussy quivering from thinking about him. Jesus. How could I want the monstrous man in any fashion? I screamed words of hatred in my mind while my body betrayed me, my nipples aching, longing for his fingers to pinch and twist.
Every part of my body was on fire from his touch alone and the light spanking was merely a temptation. A part of me craved more, the dark desires he'd mentioned enthralling. No. Hell, no. I had to be a sick girl.
Images flashed in my mind of the night in Cuba, the beautiful carve of his muscular body, his thick, throbbing cock, the tip glistening with pre-cum. I wiggled again, realizing only seconds later than pussy juice had trickled down my thighs, sliding onto the bed.
He'd been both rough and tender, allowing me to feel freedom for the first time in years, perhaps ever. And I'd longed for him. Admitting that wasn't going to do me any good. He obviously had a hidden agenda behind his roughhewn mask.
Suddenly, details regarding the attempted assassination shifted into my mind, shutting down every moment of longing. Grimacing, I twisted my wrists, the sound of the leather creaking another reminder that I was nothing more than a prisoner.
Whether or not my father held the key to my cage or a man who promised me protection, the situation was exactly the same.
Zero freedom.
What I did realize is that I recognized one of the faces of the two men who'd chased me. From where, I wasn't certain. I'd never been allowed to meet anyone other than a few men my father used as mercenaries as well as protection for our family. His business associates were never brought to the house.
Except for Miguel.
Had my father actually planned the entire event, pretending my life meant little to him? There was little way of knowing but I would find out, one way or the other.
The twinge in my ankle forced a moan. I lifted my head, blinking several times in an effort to see anything. At least he'd left the blinds open, the moonlight allowing a streaming glow. I clenched my fists, twisting in the constraints, doing everything I could to calm my nerves. No amount of yanking was going to do any good.
I realized why Miguel was doing this, to bolster his utter command, a mere reminder that he'd bargained for my life out of an act of revenge. His pet. His obsession. I closed my eyes, wishing myself into another life, the perfect beach cottage that I'd always dreamt about. That certainly hadn't been a lie, something Miguel wouldn't tolerate. I'd never wanted to live as a wealthy princess, a perk that my mother seemed to enjoy. Or maybe she simply tolerated the arranged marriage she'd been forced into.
I'd never really thought about the sick arrangement in any detrimental manner before. My mother had always smiled, laughing at the appropriate times, hosting various events with ease and grace. I'd only seen her cry once, a moment as a little girl when I'd lost my baby brother only days after his birth. Since then, she'd had little emotion. Maybe now I understood why.
However, I wasn't like her in any aspect. I was much stronger, my backbone thick and unwavering. Neither my father nor Miguel would ever get the best of me. At some point, I would be able to get away from him. I'd just have to bide my time.
Several minutes, maybe longer seemed to slip by, the lack of sound driving me to the point of paranoia. This house was huge, gorgeous in every way yet cold. Just like the man.
Just like an agitated beast.
I thought about the concert, the realization that both men had been in the audience something I had difficulty fathoming. Music was my solace, my escape and they'd interfered with my private world. Now, the asshole was using my cello as a bargaining chip. My father had never taken an interest in my music, certainly not other than to kiss me on the cheek when I gushed with excitement over good news. I was merely a woman, nothing of importance.
I finally settled down, playing the last concerto in my mind, enjoying the dazzling sensations from the brilliant maestro I'd been lucky enough to work with. I'd been shocked after receiving the call, the Miami Symphony one of the most revered orchestras in the United States. And they'd requested me as a guest. It was every musician's dream.
Now it was all gone, stripped away from me like everything else. I fought another round of bitter tears, knowing in my heart that Miguel would never make good on his promise even if I was as good as gold. He certainly wouldn't allow me time for myself. I would be at his beck and call any time of day or night. The thought was revolting.
Horrible.
Unimaginable.
Exciting.
I hated myself for the myriad feelings. Miguel wasn't some perfect hero, a prince arriving in a horse-drawn carriage. He was the toad, merely in expensive, gorgeous clothing and a sultry body.