Chapter Six
Genesis
T hat voice sounds vaguely familiar, but I can’t place where I heard it before. Am I back at Alfie’s house? Is it one of his men? I try to sit up, but my head spins. I grab my temples, trying to stop my brain from leaking out of my skull.
What the fuck did I drink?
I try to blink my eyes open, but they feel like sandpaper. Gritty, dry, and itchy as hell. I swallow hard, finding my throat isn’t in any better condition.
“Water?” I ask the room, hoping someone who answered me before was still here, wherever they were.
“I ain’t your maid. Bathroom’s through there.” Wait.
None of my father’s men would ever dare speak to me like that. I force my eyes to lift and look around. I don’t know where the fuck I am but it’s not anywhere I would ever call home.
The room is dark, masculine and smells like leather, oil and patchouli. The bed I’m on is firm, covered in black satin sheets of high quality. The frame is metal, and I yelp when I see a pair of handcuffs hanging from one of the bars.
“Not into being tied down? You seemed to like the spanking idea earlier.” That comment sparks a memory.
The Halloween party!
“Zek?” I still sound just as confused as I am.
“Pirate,” he corrects me, but I shake my head.
“That was your costume.” Why are my thoughts so jumbled?
“No, that’s what you call me from now on. It’s my road name.” Okay, I’m tired of this game.
“Listen, I don’t know who you are or what you want, but my father is not going to be happy when I don’t get home, so I suggest you call me a cab and let me get going.” Silence is all that meets my ears, and I freeze, wondering if he left.
“Hello?” I try my eyes again and find it easier to open them farther now.
I glance around the room slowly and find him sitting in an armchair facing the bed. He’s mostly hidden in shadow, and all I can make out is the half of his face from eyepatch to his nose, one arm, and his leg that he’s got stretched out like he doesn’t have a care in the world.
“I don’t give a fuck about your father. You can thank him for this whole encounter.” I turn to face him, and the blanket that was around my shoulders falls to my waist.
I shiver at the way he leans into the light so I can see the way his eye tracks the movement of my body. It brings a blush to my cheeks that even though logically I’m aware that something is very fucking wrong here, on a baser level, if he ordered me to my knees I would beg for whatever he wanted to give me.
Never have I had this type of attraction to a man and it’s scaring the shit out of me.
“Why?” I whimper the word, and that seems to give him a measure of satisfaction.
He licks his lips and tilts his head into the sliver of light coming from the street lights outside the windows.
“Your father isn’t who he says he is.” No shit asshole.
I know that better than most, but how does he? My brain is moving a little faster, and as the fog clears, I recall the evening more vividly, how we met, the kiss. The dancing and how he took me to the bathroom. The needle in my arm.
“You fucking drugged me.” I look away from him to check my arm.
“Just a little sedative. Should be completely out of your system in an hour or so.” He sounds so nonchalant about it.
Like he drugs and kidnaps girls at the time. I try to stand, but my legs don’t seem to be working yet.
“I’d be careful. Wouldn’t want you to bruise that soft, supple skin. It’ll ruin the pictures I’ll be taking later.” I move too fast to look back towards him, and I lose consciousness.
The sound of ripping fabric brings me back to the present, and I gasp when I find Zek straddling me with a knife to my chest.
“Hold still, Preciosa, I don’t want to nick you.” I hold my breath as he slowly cuts my top off, leaving me in just my lace bra.
My hips buck trying to knock him off, and when I go to slap his arrogant face, my arm doesn’t move.
“What the fuck?” I pull and pull, but all I feel is metal digging into my wrist, the harder I try.
“You seemed to really admire them, so consider them a wedding gift. You’ll look fucking edible wearing nothing but silver on my sheets.” No, no, no.
His words penetrate my mind, and a hollow pit of despair opens up in my chest.
“Alfonso wants me to marry you? Why? How are you involved with my father?” I struggle more, not believing for a second that he’d ever do this to me.
I may not be his legitimate heir, but as far as the world is concerned, I’m all he has.
“We both know that old man is not your real father.” My heart stops beating.
He must see the terror in my eyes.
“Marco Santos and I have a score we need to settle. He took something from me, and now I’m taking you. Call it an eye for an eye. My family for his.” The smile he shows me now is crueler than anything I’ve ever seen in my life.
“I barely know that man. He’s no fucking father to me.” I pleaded with my eyes for this madman to see reason.
“Doesn’t change a thing, Preciosa. I’m still going to enjoy plundering everything he thinks is his.” He punctuates his words by running the knife from my neck down to the center of my chest, where he slips the blade under my lace bra and yanks up harshly.
The fabric tears from my body, leaving my chest exposed to his greedy eye.
“Please don’t do this. I’ll do anything you want.” That seems to make him hesitate for a second, but then he grins as he drops the knife and takes the button on my jean skirt into his hand.
His arms flex, popping the veins as he pulls both hands apart, ripping the denim in half. He dangles it for a second before flinging it away without a care in the world.
And that’s when I realize it’s my life he doesn’t give one shit about. I’m a means to an end for some vendetta he has against a man who only revealed his true identity when he was ordered to. Marco never planned on me knowing he was my biological father, and as far as I know, not many people know the truth.
But this stranger knows the truth, which makes him even more dangerous than the man he wants revenge on.
“Yes, you will.”