I can’t speak. Not a whimper or a plea for forgiveness. There is nothing redeemable inside el Fantasma. It would be wise to bow down and surrender. If it weren’t for the stubborn fire born within me, I would sink to my knees in a heartbeat. Yet, I stand tall and swallow hard.
“You have my word. I will honor your mercy.” Liquid rage stings my eyes. I blink the tears away, remembering how Iris Kitson stood up to the school bullies who taunted her for having bright hair.
My captor is a world away from those children. Malice was their only power, whereas the foreboding shadow of his soul is much more deadly.
Not allowing me to move away, a careful stroke dallies down my throat. I flinch, tensing for pain. The slight contact is gentle, like he’s studying every contour, absorbing each quick puff of air and getting high on his power over me. My pulse races when he nudges my chin higher so our lips almost touch. I breathe him into my lungs. Zesty lime. Creamy coconut. An exotic flare of lies.
I hate how my body reacts to him, even on the precipice of violence. My back arches when his other hand glides to my hip. I squeeze my eyes shut, blocking out a cryptic peridot glaze.
It doesn't make a difference. The convoluted magnetism draws me deep into the web, winding around me as a defenseless insect. It's a bitter pill to swallow, seductively placed into my mouth by el Fantasma. Neither man nor ghost.
I’d like to believe there’s a glimmer of good somewhere with him, but the scars on his ego make him a different type of savage. In the absence of physical violence, he still commands fear.
“Don’t tease me with lies,” he mutters.
My eyes ping open. Horrified at the idea of leading him on in any way. Furious that he thinks taking away my name is his godly right.
“Tease you?” I hiss. “That's the last thing I would ever do.” It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him exactly how his very presence revolts me.
The grip on my hip bone intensifies. Silky hairs brush in the wake of his face, angling to the bend of my throat. “I want to fuck you,” he says thickly before pulling back like he’s tasted putrid poison. “It’s been a while.” His jaw ticks over, considering his options.
I press my spine into the corner, wishing I could merge into the background and disappear. “I’ll never let you touch me like that,” I gasp, trying to hide the disturbing tremble charging through me. My knees weaken and a light mist tingles down my arms.
In a beat, both hands pin me against the wall by my waist. He bends over me. A beautiful monster fighting hell for a shred of self-governance.
A subdued groan escapes me as the skin beneath his hands catches fire. So deceitful. So terribly unjust. The cruel reaction slips out for us both to hear, laid bare, echoed by his own growl of gratification.
His eyes no longer glisten, they darken to suspicious. “You’re lying, and you know what else, you’ll fucking beg me.” A palm reaches my navel, pausing at my waistline. My hand snaps to his, covering it tightly in a plea to make him stop. His pupils flare, and he goes absolutely rigid.
“I’ll beg you to stop. Is that what you prefer? To force a woman to fuck you.”
His eyebrow cocks. A slow alarming smile lifts the side of his mouth. Smooth fibrous skin beneath mine twists, enabling his hand to snare my wrist. He maneuvers my arm, pressing my hand to the thick erection resting heavily in his shorts. I straighten my fingers, refusing to cup his daunting length. “Now that you’re here, on my land, it's made me realize what I’ve been missing out on all this time. And believe me, you won’t beg me to stop. You’ll beg me to do it all over again.”
A throaty snarl rumbles when he shunts his rock-hard weapon of destruction into my forced palm. His eyes close briefly and hot air rushes from his nostrils. “This won’t have a happy ending.” Pretty lashes flick to the ceiling. Piercing green eyes hold me prisoner. “Learn your place and stay hidden. Make sure I don’t meet you on that path again. Ever.” His statement plunges me into the coldest of water, lashing my hideous attraction with hail and icicles. “But if you choose to go down that track, I promise you, I’ll ruin the both of us. And only one of us will survive.” Black lust swamps his green gaze, flipping my insides.
El Fantasma unhands me, roughly raking disfigured fingertips through messy strands. In that brief moment, his stern features drift to serene. Sunlight streams indoors, flickering as a gentle breeze plays with far-off palms. He stares right at me like I’m the first woman he’s ever laid eyes on. Twisting his neck, he unravels tension and what looks like a decade of ire. My chest shudders as I gulp down a sob, feeling utterly perplexed. How can one man be so savage and so devastatingly handsome? No matter the deception taking place inside me, I’ll never give in to him.
I’d rather die.
10
Dante
She’s a blessing and a curse.
I’m blinded by fiery hair and a mirage of lust swimming in her feverish gaze. Or maybe I’ve been down this road before, where desire leads to destruction. Back then. It wasn’t anything more than dirty nights in Rio and a plan to skim more millions. The lying bitch I used for fun never got under my skin like this woman.
We fucked.
She listened.
I paid the ultimate price.
For the past few years, I’ve hidden myself away, focused on retribution and built the foundations of a billion-dollar empire. I don’t have time for this bullshit.
Iris despises me, equally as much as I can’t stand her being here.
We’re even on that score.
So why am I struggling to step away? How come she makes my blood hiss and my cock crave her sole attention. And not in a normal, perfunctory way. It fucking throbs so damn hard that I might go blind. I can’t decide if she’s an unfortunate prisoner to ignore, or a distraction to exploit.
That’s a decision I’ll make when I'm not under her spell. In a matter of days, she’s turned my peaceful plot of heaven into hell, and for that reason alone, I should bleed her dry. Instead, I’m staring at ruby colored lips, wet and full, and imagining how good they’d feel.
Beautiful, forlorn eyes glitter with tears. The red wound flames like her temper as she slides down the wall in defeat. I’m responsible for deleting her life and keeping her in captivity. That stark realization wilts my resentment toward her. As my chosen loneliness stretched to years, I’ve lost myself to anger and darkness. My life no longer has a place for pleasure.
Gabriela wouldn’t like the man I’ve become. Then again, she’s the reason I’m el Fantasma.
Drifting backward, I glare at the second biggest mistake I’ve made. Stealing her existence is a worthy punishment for trespassing. It occurs to me that her innocence is a scheme. To torment and tease me, then smash everything to pieces when my guard is lowered.
I didn’t see the catastrophe coming the first time. No way will I be that man again. I’ve worked damn hard to get to this point, and no one will stand in my way. I reach for my cap but opt not to put it back on. It’s liberating to be myself again––whoever this cruel version is now. To be in the same room as a stranger without hiding my identity is alien to me after so long.
“Pay off your debt. Prove to me you're not here to spy on my business, and I’ll consider freeing you at some point.”