Her Dom (Beauty and the Captor 3)

“A drink would be wonderful.”

I stood back and let them in as prickles rose at the back of my neck more with every step they took that put them closer to Scar. Outwardly though, we looked like amicable acquaintances.

I closed the door and re-engaged the security system, then strolled toward the bar at the wall across the room without a backward glance. I wanted to watch them like hawks, but that wouldn’t appear very cordial. At the bar, I poured three drinks, offering one to Mateo, and leaving the other on the bar for his lackey to retrieve on his own.

“I assume you’ve been concerned about Marcos’ disappearance,” I said since there was no point in beating around the bush.

“Yes, quite concerned.”

I motioned for Mateo to have a seat and took the one opposite him once he was seated.

“I assumed at first it was James Garcia who had ambushed him. As I’m sure you’ve heard, he was the man who took Marcos’ slave. But I don’t believe it was him.” It would be a tidy story to say that James Garcia—aka James Donovan—had been responsible for it all, but I didn’t want Mateo to have any more reason to dig into Donovan’s—and by association, Scarlett’s—life. It would be best if he turned his efforts elsewhere.

“I’m inclined to agree with you. Speaking of the slave though, I would like to see her. I understand you reclaimed her successfully.”

Fuck. There was no good, god damned reason he needed to see her, but there was also no plausible excuse to keep him the hell away from her.

“Of course, though I must insist she remains where she is. My pet is learning the importance of staying put.”

It was the best I could do. If she was in the midst of a punishment, it was less likely Mateo would do anything that would interfere with her current master’s course of action.

“I understand, and I commend your dedication, Derek. Marcos spoke often of your diligence to your work and your applaudable success.”

Inwardly I cringed, knowing the man was right. I’d been damn good at what I did. Since Scar though, that had become my shame, not my glory. I’d been a monster—a damn good one.

Mateo stood and I followed suit, leading the way to the stairs and then the bedroom where the only person in the world that mattered was kneeling there, probably terrified. What I really wanted to do was put a bullet in this fucker’s brain. My fingers itched to feel the cool steel of my Glock, to squeeze the trigger and watch as every worthless drop of life drained out of him. I might have felt guilty as fuck for the innocents I’d hurt, but men like Mateo deserved every bit of evil I was capable of inflicting.

Instead, I kept one hand relaxed at my side and opened the door with the other while every fiber of my being railed against letting Mateo anywhere near Scar.

I had no choice, but I knew right then I had limits. I could only let this go so far. If he tried to hurt her, I was going to rip him apart with my bare hands. And make no mistake, I was still a monster because I was going to enjoy every second of it.

5

Scarlett

Two pairs of shoes—no, three. I recognized Derek’s Armani shoes, but the others were unfamiliar. One pair next to Derek’s, the other a few steps back.

Pure terror flooded my veins—it was ice cold and made me want to escape my skin. I was in the dungeon again; two sets of shoes—two monsters. I could hear the crack of the whip. I could feel my tormentor deep inside me, tearing me apart. My whole body shook so hard it made my teeth chatter.

I focused on Derek’s shoes—he was here too—and tried to remember what he’d said. Except, he hadn’t said anything—nothing that explained why there were two men here, why he’d told me to dress in a flimsy nightgown and kneel at the end of the bed.

‘Do you trust me?’—that’s what he’d said. I’d said yes, and now I was facing the biggest test of that I could imagine. But this wasn’t a test. Derek hadn’t arranged this. Someone had found us. But then, why weren’t we running? I wanted to scream, to run, to jump out the window if I had to, but he’d said to stay here and keep my head down no matter what.

Derek’s shoes and the other man’s were right in front of me. They’d been talking, but what had they said? Something about runaway…and punishment.

No. No. No. This couldn’t be happening.

I needed to calm down. My breathing was coming too fast—I was certain they could see the rapid rise and fall of my chest—and I wasn’t going to be able to hear anything else they said over the pounding of my heart.