Page 56

Marisol
I scream for my father as Dario drags me toward the lead car. Dario tosses me onto the rear seat and shoves in beside me. I roll from my back and scramble for the opposite door handle, which, of course, won’t open from the inside. Dario grabs my hair, stopping me from banging on the glass and wrenching me backward. “In case I haven’t made it clear enough, I’ve run out of patience. You belong to me now. You will work for my father. Learn your place and stop resisting, or I will have my men fuck the fight out of you.”
The bastard releases my hair, and I scramble away from him, falling onto the floorboard. Dario orders his driver to move, and arms flailing, I struggle to right myself as the car speeds off into the dark.
My presence is ignored for the duration of the ride, for which I’m thankful. I need time to think. To plan.
Dario says my father is still alive, which means he’ll be coming for me. Though, in his condition, it won’t be fast. And Dario claims we’re to be married tomorrow. That doesn’t leave a lot of time.
The sleek car soon pulls into a gated property I’d recognize any time of day. This is the Cruz estate. The car pulls through the ornate iron gate and drives around to a six-bay garage.
Armed men surround the car when it finally pulls to a stop, and Dario walks around to drag me out, nearly pulling my arm out of socket. He’s dropped all pretenses of being gentlemanly. Not caring if I can keep up, he speedwalks toward an elevator which is a convenient way to whisk me to my prison in secret.
Inside the box, Dario presses the button for the fourth floor. So, there’ll be no daring escape out the window in my future. The elevator opens, and I’m shoved toward a single door at the end of a long hall.
“Welcome home, Darling,” Dario croons when he pushes the door in. “Forgive me if I don’t carry you across the threshold.”
Dario follows me in, closing the door behind us. “Some ground rules. You are not to leave this room. I will have guards stationed outside that door every minute to ensure you don’t. As you saw, we’re more than thirty-six feet off the ground. Any attempts to flee through the windows would likely be crippling if not fatal.”
He’s still holding my arm, which I now wrestle from his grasp.
“You may be holding me prisoner here, but my father isn’t stupid. He knows who has me and will come. As for marrying you, the last time I checked, that required consent and a license, neither of which you’ll ever acquire.”
Dario steps closer, but I take a step back. He rushes forward and grabs a fist full of my hair, forcing me to my knees. “Marisol, sweet, naïve Marisol. Listen to me and listen carefully. Your father has one of my guards on him. If you fail to sign whatever I put in front of you, my guard will enter Cirilo’s room and inject enough heroin into him that he’ll never speak your name again. You should keep that in mind before making idle threats.”
He releases my hair, and little pinpricks erupt all over my scalp. Refusing to cower, I rise to my feet, standing eye-to-eye with the monster. “Something to say, Cariña?” he taunts.
I have plenty to say, but I keep my jaw firmly shut. Dario grins, declaring himself the victor in our standoff. “Tomorrow morning, I’ll have people come in to dress you. We’ll be wed at noon. I suggest you rest today and get plenty of beauty sleep tonight. Your work begins as soon as the photographers leave.”
My shoulders sag like this bondage is a tangible weight pressing down on me. I drop my head in defeat, and my future, once bright, fades into The Grey. “I should have taken my chances in Virginia.”
Dario hears this and lets loose a boisterous laugh. “Those soldiers from the Pastrana family didn’t want you. They were paid to scare you. I knew that if you feared for your life, you’d come running back to your father. In doing so, you played right into my hands, Doctor.”
It can’t be true. I fall to my knees, covering my face with my hands. I gave up my life and hurt Austin. All for nothing.
Dario exits the room without another word. I allow my heavy heart a few minutes to grieve, and then I force my weary body to my feet. This is not over.
My prison cell is a large, comfortably furnished bedroom. French doors lead out onto a darkened balcony. Despite knowing the room’s height from the ground, I still pull on the handles, finding them locked. I’d need a key to open them. Smart on Dario’s part. He knows me better than I thought. When it comes down to brass tacks, I would rather launch myself over that balcony than become his wife.
Only one other door leads from the finely decorated room. That handle moves freely, revealing a well-appointed ensuite bathroom. Taking up one side is a wet room with multiple showerheads and a claw-foot tub. A glass partition separates the space from the rest of the bathroom, providing a boundary for the handmade clay tiles that make up the floor and walls.
Pairing well with the Spanish influence are matching French chests made into vanity counters. The serpentine chests are beautiful, and I wouldn’t be surprised to learn they’re originals.
I pass by the antiques to the first of two doors on the side wall. This one leads to a movie-star-sized closet stocked with clothes, shoes, and lingerie—all in my sizes. Opening one of the built-in drawers, I shudder as I pick up a bit of skimpy lace and quickly leave the space. The sole remaining door leads to a toilet room with a separate bidet.
As far as prisons go, this is a nice one, and per Dario’s warning, it will only remain mine if I behave. I’ll have to, at least in the beginning. I’ll need time to see how much freedom I’ll be allowed before I can begin planning my escape.
Now that I’m familiar with the breadth of my cell, I search through cabinets and drawers to see what kinds of weapons are available. I’m not hoping for much, but you’d be surprised what a woman can do with tweezers and brow scissors when desperate. And I’m desperate.
Austin
I swear this is the first moment since the phone call with Marisol that I haven’t either been beating the shit out of something or locked in a battle over life and death.
All is quiet on the luxury jet. Piper sleeps on the floor beside me, and the rest of the new crew are passed out in their comfortable leather reclining seats. It’s nearly four AM, and I’m wide awake.
My leg stings like a bitch, but that’s not what’s keeping me from sleep.
I’m… scared.