Buttons and Shame (Buttons 4)

Tristan leaned back in his chair and narrowed his eyes like he’d been insulted. “My woman?”

I nodded.

He tilted his head slightly like he still couldn’t believe it. “That’s a pretty bold request.”

“You’re asking me to make an exception for you. That’s pretty bold.” If he wanted me to give up my prized weaponry with only half the deposit, then he better offer me something incredible in return. I didn’t want this voluptuous blonde. I wanted that beautiful brunette with the pussy that tasted like ice cream.

He grabbed his wine and took a drink, his features contorted in anger. He took his time drinking, stalling before he gave an answer.

The blonde began to breathe normally again, relieved I wanted someone else instead of her. Little did she know, she just lost out on a great deal.

He finally set the glass down. “No. She’s off-limits.”

“Then we don’t have a deal.” I rose from the chair. “When you get the second half of the payment, we’ll talk.” I finished off my scotch before I walked away from the table. I wasn’t a fan of this deal anyway. The only reason why I considered it in the first place was the prospect of having that woman again. Without her, I didn’t have any interest in making it work.

“Hold on.” Tristian rose from his chair, his hand still resting on the stem of his wineglass. “There has to be something else we can agree to. I’ll give you two women.”

I turned back around and searched his beady black eyes. “I don’t want two women. I only want one woman.” His obsession matched my own. I’d only been with her once, hadn’t even fucked her, and I still needed her again. I understood his resistance. “Unless you have something else.” There was nothing he could possibly own that would rival the cost of the shipment. Even if he had a boat, that still wouldn’t come close. If he really wanted to make this deal work, he’d have to give in.

He finished off the rest of his wine before he threw the glass against the wall. It shattered loudly before the pieces sprinkled onto the floor. The blond woman nearly jumped into the air at the sound. “Alright, Cane. I’ll meet your demand. But I have one condition.”

“I’m listening.”

“I won’t give her to you. But I’ll loan her. Once I pay the second half, she’s mine again.”

I knew that was Tristan’s best offer. He would let me walk away from the deal if I didn’t take it. I wasn’t going to let her slip through my fingers, so I shook his hand. “Deal.”

7

Adelina

“Up.” Tristan walked into my bedroom where I was chained by the ankle to the metal bedpost. In the short time I’d been a prisoner, my treatment had been anything but humane. I always had a chain around one of my limbs as I remained locked in my bedroom all day while Tristan worked. I didn’t get any food, and if I had to pee, I had to hold it all day. And if I couldn’t, I had to pee on the bed—which I slept on.

My life was a nightmare.

I hadn’t been here for a week, but I already had forgotten what freedom felt like. I couldn’t remember the way the warm sun felt on my face first thing in the morning. I couldn’t remember the breeze through my hair. I’d just gotten to Greece with Lizzie when our taxi had been hijacked, and sacks were pulled over our faces. My life was savagely taken from me on my first trip from home.

I wanted to die.

How did I keep going?

Would I ever make it out of there?

Not only was I raped dozens of times, but I’d been beaten like a dog that wouldn’t listen. I’d been kicked in the ribs, punched in the face, and stomped on like a rug. I didn’t have a name anymore. I wasn’t a person anymore.

I wasn’t human.

I’d always pictured how I would lose my virginity. It was with a man I loved, and it was beautiful. But my first time was savage. He shoved himself inside me hard, broke my hymen, and then fucked me while I choked back my sobs.

Tristan stared me down. “I said up.”

“Do you not see the chain wrapped around my ankle?” Every time I was a smartass, I got punched in the face. But at this point, I was immune to pain, so whatever.

He grabbed my ankle and dragged me to the edge of the bed. Instead of a hard punch, he backhanded me across the cheek. My skin immediately burned, and I knew there would be a handprint for the rest of the day.

I didn’t make a sound. He liked knowing when I was hurt, so I did my best to hide it. He took away my freedom, so I would take away the intensity of his orgasms.