Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 74035 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74035 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Orlando: Thank you. I trust you. Do you need anything where you are? I know it’s rustic.
I chuckle to myself.
Me: We have better provisions here than I had when I was overseas. It's a little bit of a retreat honestly. Vivia is not as pleased, but that's probably a good thing.
I can almost hear him laughing on the other end.
I put the phone down and go through the rest of the files from Gloria. As I do, it's starting to look more and more like Vivia has something to hide. I'll strip her down and ask everything I need to. I’ll get answers if it kills me.
Based on the footage here, she’s already lied to me. I’m a fool for taking anything she says at face value.
I stalk back in the room. Her eyes snap up to me, guarded. She's hiding something, and I don't know if it's because she knows I spoke with Orlando, I have more intel on the situation, or because she knows that I'm going to get the truth out of her, but the innocent expression on her face is gone and now instead she wears a cold, hard mask. Montavio stock through and through.
I snap my fingers. My voice is cold. I need answers, and I want them now. I point to the floor in front of me. “Get over here."
"A little hard to get out of bed with handcuffs around my wrists," she says, a sarcastic twinge in her voice.
I stare at her. "I'm sure you're capable."
I anchor my hands on my hips. I don't know why I allowed myself to flirt with the idea that she was anything more than my captive. I don't know why I allowed myself to soften around her. She's either a very good actress, or I'm a sucker. Maybe both.
I watch her struggle to get out of bed, and she finally sits up. She's got herself off the bed and stands on the floor in front of me. I think over my options about how I can interrogate her. Straight questions are going to get an answer. I need her vulnerable. I need her afraid.
"I got some information from my team, and it's not looking good for you, Vivia."
I look at her, waiting to hear what she'll think and to see how she'll respond.
When someone’s lying or planning to, the micro expressions on their face often show two things at the same time: what the liar wants to show and what the liar wants to conceal. You have to watch carefully because micro expressions don’t last longer than half a second.
The quick half-smile and widened eyes show me exactly what I need to know.
Ah. The spoiled Montavio princess is not as innocent as she looks. I cluck my tongue and shake my head from side to side. She's responded well to the little bits of praise I’ve spoon-fed her. I wonder how she'll respond to disapproval, rather than raw aggression.
Maybe I'll try both.
I step over to her. It's such a small room, two steps and I’m there. She doesn't flinch or back up but holds her ground, even when I reach for her. I thread my fingers along her scalp and watch as her eyes flutter closed.
She likes that. She won't like what I'm doing next.
I weave my fingers close to her skin, grip, and yank. She gasps and her eyes fly open. I take her by her hair to the door and march her into the main living room.
"Dario, what are you doing?" she asks, her voice wobbling.
"I told you. I got information that implicates you. I need truth from you. You've lied to me already, and I don't want to give you another chance for more lies."
"What did I lie to you about?"
Oh, she's a good fucking actress.
I don't answer her. We’ll get there.
I stand her in front of me and uncuff her. "If you try anything, I will tie you to the bed and take my belt to your ass until you scream for mercy." I stare at her, letting those words sink in. “Am. I. Clear? "
Her chin wobbles, but her lips are set in a thin line. I wait for her to say something in response, but she doesn't. I yank her hair harder.
"I asked you a question."
“I thought it was rhetorical," she says with a haughty air.
She swallows hard and meets my gaze unflinchingly. She even goes so far as to shake her head so that her hair falls across her shoulders in a gesture of anger and defiance. Every line, angle, and curve of her body speaks defiance. We'll see if it still speaks that when I strip her.
I can almost hear her thoughts. She's used to brutality. She's used to violence. She'll just grin and bear it and get through.
We'll see about that. Something tells me her father and brothers have never questioned her naked.