Blood Ties (Dinero de Sangre #2) - Lana Sky Page 0,68

myself from scanning every shelf, inspecting them in more detail.

The clothing stands out to me, the more I inspect each garment. In fact, the female clothing outnumbers his. I’d be tempted to suspect he has some sort of secret fetish for wearing it himself, if the sizing wasn’t skewed so small that I doubt he could fit a single thigh where the waist is meant to go.

Something I heard him say comes back to me, uttered in a tone so gruff and deep that I suck in a breath just reliving it.

I’ve obsessed over this body, Ada-Maria. What I would have you wear when you were mine.

I’d almost believe it… That he bought these with me in mind, my body, his tastes. If it weren’t for the glaring fact that Alexi is the exact same size, along with most of the women in Terra Rodea. How many has he plied and captured before sending to Jaguar?

I let the resentment build, giving me the strength to keep searching, hunting for anything out of place, merely out of pure spite. I rummage sloppily through the hangers so that he’ll know I was here, touching his clothing. His shirts. His pants. I toy with the material, noting its quality but also how new it all seems. Which makes sense—after dropping the Domino persona, he would need all new clothing with which to embody his freed self. A man who harbors more secrets than any man should have the right to.

And every step of the way, he’ll only feed me pieces at a time, at his discretion. He must get off on my confusion, more than even my pain. I bet it makes him feel powerful to exert so much control over me, thinking he can anticipate my every move.

And if I were a smug bastard like him, I’d gloat over my captive’s supposed innocence. I’d take joy in hiding snippets of information right under her nose, and I would relish in watching her squirm.

Whether by accident or subconsciously. I’m near that black duffle again. This time, I unzip the main compartment, even though it was empty initially when I first found the things he planted for me.

This time, it’s not.

Inside is a neatly folded set of clothes. A passport. A wad of coiled cash. Underwear—women’s underwear…

The clothing, too—a black sweater and light wash jeans—are far too small to fit Domino Valenciaga. Could they be Alexi’s?

I bring the bag to the watch cabinet and remove each item one by one. The first observation that takes my breath away is, when I open the passport, Alexi’s picture isn’t the one I find inside.

Though, the name reads Alicia Garcia, I vaguely recognize the woman in the stern-faced passport photo. Her hair is a dark brown, the same length as mine, her eyes listed as gray, her height listed as five foot, five inches…

She looks like me. The photo could be one of me, in fact, though altered with darker hair. When I eye the clothing again, a dull sense of dread begins to build in my gut. While the right size to fit Alexi, they’d also fit me. The style is much more practical than a flimsy, revealing dress should I decide to go “wandering in the desert again,” as Domino taunted. Or for another reason entirely.

Like maybe he plans to let me go. Take me back to Terra Rodea and refuse to sell me after all? Hope is an insidious impulse, flaring before I can counter it.

A more likely explanation is that this is what he plans on shipping me off to Jaguar wearing. Why not make his job easier?

Angrily, I tug my dress over my head and throw it to the floor before pulling on the sweater and jeans. I take the passport and stuff it into one pocket, sliding the wad of cash into the other.

Now I’m truly ready to play my role—a toy to be bought and sold.

Chapter Eighteen

I exit the closet and eye myself in the mirror, trying to use this act of disobedience to distract from the growing fear, warning that, despite all of Domino’s taunts about Jaguar, I still have no idea what to expect. The only name I have to go on is La Guarida Del Tigre—a place filled with men even more despicable than he is, I assume. Hell.

By the time I finally leave and reenter the hall, my shoulders slump with the weight of the impending visit. Jaguar’s arrival feels more like an execution date, when