Stealing Beauty (Stolen 1)

“Sit down.”

I took a seat in the desk chair, but my gaze remained stuck on the carpet. I couldn’t bear to look at him. His familiar yet foreign face made something squeeze deep in my chest.

He grunted, a low sound I couldn’t quite interpret. Was he angry with me? I hadn’t done anything to displease him. I hadn’t done anything to risk punishment or make him suspect I was anything less than perfectly obedient.

Silence stretched between us, but I no longer felt his eyes on me. The soft clicking noises of a smart phone let me know he was texting Mateo. Whatever he was doing on the phone kept him absorbed until a knock at the door interrupted him. He opened it, accepting our dinner with a tip before locking the bellman out.

A savory scent wafted through the room, and Adrián set a huge platter on the desk before me. He lifted off the silver dome covering it, revealing an array of traditional Colombian cuisine.

“I can’t eat this,” I said, gesturing at the bandeja paisa. The beans and rice alone were far too salty for my diet, not to mention the chicharrón and arepa.

“What?” he demanded. “This isn’t good enough for you, princesa?”

“Don’t call me that,” I snapped before I could bite back the angry demand. He made it sound like I was some spoiled heiress, not a prisoner in a gilded cage.

He glared down at me, and I shrank back as my defiance withered and died. I didn’t want him to hurt me again. The spanking itself hadn’t been all that painful, but the damage to my soul had been far worse than anything Hugo had ever done to me.

“Eat.” He bit out the command.

I ducked my head, dropping my gaze again as I picked up the fork. The first taste of pork hit my tongue, the rich flavor so decadent that I almost moaned. I hadn’t indulged in anything this delicious in years. Not since my teenage metabolism had slowed down and I’d been regulated to a low-sodium, low-carb diet.

I began to eat with enthusiasm, tasting a few bites of everything on the tray. I was stuffed in a matter of minutes, having consumed far more calories than I was normally allowed in a day, much less one meal.

“That’s not enough,” he rebuked when I set down the fork. “You’ve barely eaten all day.”

“I’m full.” I spoke softly and kept my eyes downcast, not wanting to rile him. If I ate any more, I’d be sick.

“Fine,” he sighed. “Go take a shower. Mateo should be back soon. We need to rest before the drive tomorrow morning.”

I stood and shuffled off to the bathroom, grateful for the excuse to put a little distance between us. When I turned on the shower, I kept the water just under lukewarm. The cool spray helped combat the heat that had been burning through my veins ever since Adrián had taken me. Hours of being torn between anger, fear, and humiliation had left me beyond exhausted. I hadn’t slept at the hotel in Bogotá, even though Adrián had kept me trapped against him on the bed for several hours before we left the city. And I’d been far too uncomfortable to nap in the car, considering my sore bottom.

My eyelids drooped, growing heavy as I lingered in the quiet solace of the shower.

I yelped when Adrián pounded on the bathroom door before opening it without invitation. “Time for bed, princesa.”

My low growl was mercifully smothered by the pounding water. I did my best to swallow my rage before I faced him again. I didn’t like when he used our old endearment and called me his little bunny, but I hated this princess mockery even more. How dare he act as though I wanted any of this? As though my lavish lifestyle with Hugo caused me anything but misery?

I waited until I heard the door shut again before turning off the water and reaching for a towel. I took off the shower cap I’d donned and let my dry hair fall down around my shoulders before reaching for my clothes. I’d left them in a neat pile on the counter, and I’d assumed I’d have to wear them again, since Adrián hadn’t offered me anything fresh.

I paused. The t-shirt and jeans were gone. In their place was a scrap of black silk. I reached for it, my fingers trembling as my stomach sank. The delicate black nightgown wasn’t nearly as indecent as many of the whorish outfits Hugo had forced me to wear, but it was short enough that it would barely cover my ass.

My moment of horror burned into rage. I stormed into the bedroom, wrapping the towel tightly around me to cover my body.

“I’m not wearing this for you,” I seethed, flinging the slutty lingerie at Adrián.