Page 12 of A Taste like Sin

“Privilege?” I fight to keep my chin in the air.

“Sí.” He scoffs, his mouth quirked. “He didn’t tell you? Maybe I should have pressed him for more in

our bargain?”

“What do you want?” I consider running. Calling for help. Before I can make the decision, he turns

and strolls toward a hallway.

“Don’t bother calling my brother to heel,” he calls back. “And as for what I want? Why to warn you,

of course.” He pauses and cocks his head.

“Of what?” I croak when he doesn’t elaborate. “Trust and believe I’ll report every threat to the

police.”

“My brother is a dangerous man, Ms. Thorne. You should do your best to remember that. He may put

on his charming act around you”—he flicks his gaze up to my face and chuckles—“but don’t be fooled

by his blindness. You must have given him quite the roll in the hay. I’ve never seen him so fucking

whipped.”

Heat floods my cheeks though I fight to keep my chin in the air. “E-Excuse me?”

“I’m surprised he got much use out of you, all things considered.” He nods pointedly toward my body

in general. “You aren’t his type. Not a trophy, I think. Just a toy for his amusement. One he isn’t

inclined to share though. Not yet. He damn near threatened to kill me if I touched you. But still.” He

shrugs and heads farther down the hall, briefly turning to toss his parting words my way. “I pity you.

Even I can find it in my heart to warn an easy mark. Your father is a selfish, moral-less cunt, but

Damien thrives on vengeance. Don’t trust him. Considering that just by touching you he’s spitting on

Mathias’s memory, thehijueputahas no loyalty.”

He retreats, and my blood runs cold, my heart solidifying into a painful lump in my chest. With

difficulty, I ignore him and focus on the task at hand: escaping.

One fearful peek beyond the lobby reveals a familiar black car waiting for me along the curb.Damn.

The moment I exit the building, Julio climbs from the vehicle and the jig is up.

“Good morning, Ms. Thorne,” he declares, opening the door to the back seat. “Mr. Villa thought you

might appreciate having him supply your transportation this morning.” His stoic expression reveals

nothing. I can’t tell if he knows about my brush with Mateo—but I suspect that this “offer” isn’t by

coincidence, either.

“Does Mr. Villa have the room I stayed in bugged?” I ask without expecting an answer—because it’s