Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 74620 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74620 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
“Please,” she pleads, which makes a groan rumble low in my throat, and I have to cough the sound away to mask it. I would love to hear her begging for something else. Something far more illicit, just to see her thief of a father.
“Tomorrow.”
“No!” Her voice carries, bouncing off the dark concrete walls of the basement, which would be best used to hold wine rather than be turned into cells to hold prisoners. Her feistiness and confidence are shining when I turn to regard her and I realize she’s not weak, even though she may be scared. The fire in her eyes makes me want to see her break even more.
I don’t adhere to commands; I’m the one in control, not her. She has to learn that in my house, under my roof, I make the rules, and she has to obey, or there will be consequences.
“Today. Mr. Cordero,” she utters my name with the sweetest of voices, which makes me wonder how she’d sound screaming my name. “Please.” Another plea, one that’s turning my blood hot and my cock throbbing for her, and I’m tempted to paint her pretty face with my release.
I turn to face her fully. “Let me make something clear, juguete,” I start, holding my hands behind me as I stalk closer to the cell, and as soon as I do, the scent of her perfume, even in this shit hole, smells like jasmine blossoms. Fuck. “I don’t take demands from little girls, and if they try to force my hand, I will make them bleed all over my cock. You will see your father when I say so, not when you demand it.”
She balks at my words, and I know she’s afraid her father is dead. I may be the Devil, but I’m not a monster. The corner of my mouth lifts slightly as I offer her a smile, which she doesn’t return.
“But since you’ve pleased me by coming of your own free will—”
“My own free will?” she retorts, causing me to lift a brow at her in question. “I mean… I just… I don’t want to be here, but for my father, I’ll do anything.”
Tipping my head to the side, I watch her before asking, “Anything?”
She waits a beat before nodding. “Anything.”
“That’s a rather bold statement for a little girl who doesn’t know who she’s getting into bed with… so to speak.” I tack on the last three words because I notice her mouth fall open in shock at my choice of words.
“I just want my father safe. I can handle anything you throw at me.” She puts on a brave appearance, for a girl her age – one who’s walked straight into the wolf’s den, giving herself over as a sacrificial lamb for slaughter. “I’ve heard stories about you and I’m not afraid.” Even though she says she isn’t, I know she is. She’s trembling, her fingers are slipping on the metal while her chin wobbles. Her lower lip juts out, and I can’t stop the image of her swallowing my dick from racing through my mind.
“I’m sure you’re not afraid, but that would be stupid, juguete,” I smirk. Knowing she doesn’t like the name by her reaction, I offer her a smile. A grin.
“Perhaps I’m stupid then, diablo,” she retorts hotly, making me chuckle out loud. There’s a strength in this girl, and I can’t wait to see her soften. Because make no mistake, I will break her.
Nodding, I lean in closer, meeting her wide green eyes. “Then it’s time for you to meet the real me, Sofía.” I turn and walk away. “Oh, and by the way,” I cast a glance over my shoulder, “when you learn to respect me, you can sleep in a real bed.” Turning my stare to Díago and Alejandro, I order, “Come.” And they obey without question.
Stalking up the stairs, I listen to her screams, the curses being spewed my way, and it only makes me laugh even more.
10
Sofía
It’s cold. So, so cold. I no longer have the warmth of the bed I slept in last night, and I no longer have my phone, so I’m stuck in this cell alone with nothing but the sliver of the moon shining through the small rectangular hole in the wall.
Seeing Victor Cordero in the flesh wasn’t what I was expecting. In my mind, I’d made him out to be a wretched man with fangs for teeth and horns popping out of his head. Like a Satan himself, but he wasn’t. The person who stood almost six foot five with broad shoulders towered over the other two men who’d accompanied him.
His dark hair, tousled and messy, matched the stubble that lined his angular jaw. His olive skin looked warm, and I found myself wanting to touch it. His sharp features looked sculpted from the most beautiful marble. His eyes, though, that’s what caught my breath, as the color of shimmering gold met my glare.