Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 52455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 262(@200wpm)___ 210(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 262(@200wpm)___ 210(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
I’ve never had a boyfriend. If I had, he wouldn’t be model-pretty like Victor. A sense of satisfaction hums through me, pleasure that this beautiful creature is, for the moment, mine.
Which is stupid. I’m his prisoner. I have to remember that, and resist.
The scent of sautéed onions hits me, and my stomach cramps.
Victor signals me forward. I halt at his stupid hand gesture, but he doesn’t seem to notice as he’s too busy plating something mouthwatering and sliding it across the island to a place setting. “You must be hungry.”
An omelet. He’s made me an omelet sprinkled with finely cut chives. And it looks like something out of a cooking magazine, damn him.
I cross the space to him, feeling the pull toward him deep in my belly.
In this mundane setting, I feel my nakedness even more. Again, I’m naked while he’s clothed, and the powerful contrast makes my core throb. When I slide onto the stool, the cool leather makes goosebumps break out over my body.
“Cold?” he asks, and I nod.
He unbuttons his black shirt and comes around the island to help me into it. It’s huge on me, draping over my thighs like a shirt dress. He has to roll up the sleeves so I can eat. My heart slams happily in the cage of my ribs as he dresses me. He purses his plush lips and fiddles with the fabric, his nimble fingers tucking and straightening the black silk.
And when he returns to the stove, leaving me sitting there in the soft shirt that smells of him and still retains his body heat, I want to cry.
I stare at the shirt buttons. I get it now. This is how he’s going to break me. Not with cruelty. With kindness.
Shirtless, Victor finishes cooking his own meal. The muscles in his back and shoulders ripple with each lazy movement. “You’re not eating,” he says with a frown, and my heart leaps. Will he punish me? Drag me back to the cage?
I glance at the heavy door that leads to the hallway. If only I had made it out.
“Lula. You must eat.”
“Or what?” I ask, my stomach roiling. “You’ll hurt me?”
He drops his elbows to the white quartz on either side of his plate and leans in. “No. I won’t hurt you again unless you beg me.”
I hiss in a breath. The scent of the food is making me so weak I might fall off the stool, but every cell in me wants to fight. “Are you insane?”
“Probably.” He picks up his fork and digs into his eggs. “The official diagnosis is antisocial personality disorder.”
“I’m not going to beg you.”
He smiles at his plate.
“I’m still going to fight you,” I say, testing the words.
Okay, he signals. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
I dig into my omelet.
It’s fucking delicious.
Victor finishes his food before I do. I take my time, savoring each buttery bite, hoping if I draw out this meal, I’ll be able to put off whatever happens next.
He watches me with a half smile as if he knows what I’m doing but finds it amusing.
“How long did I sleep?” I ask, less hoping he’ll tell me and more to stretch meal time.
“Long enough. I would’ve stayed with you, but I had business.”
I use my fork to cut a piece of omelet into a perfect golden square. “What sort of business?”
“Tracking down Stephanos.” He says it calmly, as if he didn’t just drop a live grenade into the conversation.
“Why?”
“He owes me. The last payment for my last job.”
“David,” I say, and he nods.
“He paid the first half promptly. But before I could collect the second half, I was incapacitated.”
Because I shot him. “That’s a shame,” I say with a straight face.
“Indeed.” He clears his plate and washes it right away. It would take me a few seconds to rush around the island to jab my fork into his kidney. But I doubt he’s distracted enough to let me. Besides, the pale, muscled expanse of his back is so pretty. And I want to keep eating.
“Stephanos has gone to ground,” Victor tells me as he cleans up the cooking area.
“I know.” I grind my teeth.
“But I found several members of his gang and spoke to them today. One way or another, they will lead me to him.”
When Victor turns from the sink, I’m gripping the fork like a weapon.
“Lula, breathe.”
“What will you do when you find him?”
“Retrieve what is owed to me. One way or another.”
“Will you kill him?”
“Do you want me to?” He looks me dead in the eye. It’s a genuine question.
“No. I can’t afford to hire you. Left my wallet in my other pants.”
His expression doesn’t change at my little joke. Which is fine. I don’t feel like laughing, either.
My appetite is gone, but I poke at my food, unwilling for the meal to be over. “How many people have you killed?”