My toes curl just a little. I’m dwarfed by Angel’s broad, chiselled shoulders.
He nods down below and I follow his gaze to the lawn, careful to keep one eye on him at all times. “My brother. Dante.”
I blow air out of my nose. “I guess it just runs in the family, then, huh?”
Angel doesn’t respond. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he doesn’t particularly like seeing the caged tiger either.
“Well, I don’t like this brother of yours,” I spit, filling up the empty air, unsure of whether I’m trying to find some common ground between us or aggravate Angel even more. Conflicting emotions and feeling swirl around inside of me like a tumultuous eddy, preventing me from getting a firm grip on anything, including Angel.
“That’s fine,” my captor says, low and certain. “You won’t be meeting him.”
“Why not?” I ask, ever defiant.
Angel turns from the window and I can feel his cosmic eyes burning through my cheeks. I don’t turn to meet his gaze, but out of the corner of my eye, I can see those dimples again. They’re being lifted by a malevolent smirk. His hot breath washes down my ear, over my neck and through my skin, right into the deepest darkest recesses of my being.
“Because you’re all mine.”
7
Angel
Those Cuadrados pigs don’t seem to care one bit whether Catalina lives or dies. Good. That means she’s all mine.
I’ll deal with the Diaz developers on my own terms, during work hours—right now, though, I’m off the clock and at least something has come out of this whole messy misunderstanding with André.
I’ve found myself a pretty little plaything.
As far as Juan and I can tell, Catalina’s a nobody. I can keep her here for as long as I want without any consequences; no one’s going to come looking—at least, no one who could do anything about it.
“Come with me,” I order, turning from the window and away from my unruly brother. He’s a headache I don’t want to deal with right now—I thought I’d told that fucker to stop scaring our staff? I also told him to quit buying exotic animals. There isn’t much in this world I hate more than seeing a magnificent beast caged up for some dweeb’s sick pleasure. It reminds me of prison, a place that’s always in the back of my mind; but I doubt Dante thinks much
about stuff like that.
His life is all about the luxury of my labor. I’m the one who has to constantly worry about all the details; how to keep us in the shadows; how to maintain appearances; how to scrub and launder the money we make through nefarious means, and if I didn’t do it all, then we’d both either be dead, broke or in prison already—hell, there’s a good chance that at least one of us would have experienced all three.
I’m already at the bedroom door when Catalina finally decides to follow my order. Her tiny feet scurry gently across the bamboo floor until she’s at my back. I don’t turn to explain where we’re going. She doesn’t need to know. This is for me, not for her.
I’ve been so busy lately that I keep forgetting to take care of myself. Before all these new board meetings and business deals came into play, I’d always make sure to visit the city after a hard week and release myself inside of whatever girl threw herself at me the quickest. Now, though, I hardly even have time for that, nor do I have the inclination. The pump and toss got old quick and I soon learned that the challenge of the chase could be even more rewarding than the release of the kill.
But it was always so hard finding someone who I could properly stalk... until now. For my whole life, all of my interactions have been preceded by my notorious reputation, but Catalina either doesn’t know who I am or she just doesn’t care. It hardly matters to me. She’s going to be my stress ball, and I’ll squeeze her until she snaps to my will, or until she pops, whatever comes first.
You see, I don’t re-use pussy, it goes against my personal code—don’t get attached, don’t get tied down, stay focused on the throne—so, I’m going to have to draw Catalina out for as long as possible if I’m going to twist enough of her good juices out to satisfy me.
Breaking her will be my new hobby for however long she lasts. After all, life can’t be all work and no play, right? The only way to stay sane in this business is to have a little fun on the side. For me, that usually just means riding my bike and getting into some fights, but there are other sides to a man’s needs that aren’t so easily satiated, darker desires that can only be fed in private...
“Where are you taking me?” Catalina asks, struggling to keep up as I march her through my home. She has long lean legs, but she’s still a tiny woman, and keeping up with me is a heavy task for just about anyone.
“That’s none of your business,” I growl back, with no plans to tell her. She doesn’t need to know that I already know she’s useless to me as a hostage against the Cuadrados. I might tell her eventually, but it can wait. First, I’m going to give her a little scare. For some reason, the idea of making her body tremble and her big brown eyes water fills me with an almost irresistible thirst that I need to quench.
On our wild bike ride back to the compound, my dick was the hardest it’s been in years. Catalina’s trembling body, vibrating against my racing chest, awoke something in me that I’m already desperate to replicate.
I want to see how much more she can take before she breaks.
When we arrive at the door to the basement, Catalina stops in her tracks behind me. She stands atop the dark steps that lead down into near total blackness, hands clasped together like a frightened child. Perfect. I fight to hold back the smirk that wants to crawl over my lips. Not so tough anymore, huh?
“I’m not going down there,” she announces, sliding backwards on her bare feet. I stand three steps down, half-shrouded in the ominous darkness. We’re nearly eye-level, until I step back up towards her.
“You don’t have a choice,” I say, reaching out for her wrist. She pounces out of my grasp like a jumping bean, but doesn’t run away. Her eyes dart around the vaulted foyer, like she’s looking for a route of escape, but there’s no way out, and it doesn’t take her long to realize it.