an empty chair against the wall behind him, so I assume he’s been here watching me sleep.
Anxiety makes my hands shake as I cover myself with the comforter. For some reason, being alone with this stranger scares me far more than being in the presence of Diego Pérez. The cartel boss promised not to hurt me. This man—whoever he is—has made me no such promises.
“Where … where am I?” I slur, my dry tongue making it difficult to form words.
“Now that you’re awake, Mr. Pérez will want to see you.”
I try again to sit up, taking it slow this time. “Wh-what … who …”
“Mr. Pérez will answer all your questions,” he says, an impatient edge in his voice.
Frowning, I watch the man go. The click of a lock rings through the room and I roll my eyes. “Just where do you think I’m going to go?”
I fight the panic welling up from the pit of my stomach. Mixing with fear is anger and betrayal at my father’s actions last night. There I stood bargaining for his life, and he was all too happy to trade me to save his own ass. I let the anger swell until it smothers the worry over what will happen to me in the clutches of a notorious mafia boss. If I know my dad, he’s currently planning to leave the country without making Pérez and his outfit aware of his movements. He’ll never come up with half the money in time. Like the coward he is, he’ll leave me to my fate while he finds his own escape route.
I’m on my own. I realized that last night—just before a needle was jabbed into my neck—but it’s become real now, on the first day of my captivity. Sitting around and waiting for Diego to execute me isn’t an option, but neither is going off half-cocked and doing something stupid.
Running my fingers through my hair, I cringe at the smell of chlorine coming off me. I find an open door leading into a bathroom on my left. Relief propels me from the bed, and I stumble on unsteady legs onto white stone floors. The bathroom is small but luxurious, with a massive shower that has nozzles pointing from every direction. A claw-foot tub sits in one corner, with a thick, white rug laid in front of it. I go to the double vanity and stare at myself in the mirror. The harsh lighting of the bathroom shows that I feel as shitty as I look. My hair is a tangled, frizzy mess and my skin is pale with a grayish tint. There are dark circles under my bloodshot eyes.
With slow, careful movements, I turn on the tap and splash cold water on my face. The cold jolt makes me more alert. I then drink the water by the handful, slurping greedily from my palm and groaning at how good it feels going down my throat.
Diego’s voice comes at me from the doorway and I snap to attention, swiping at my damp chin with the back of my hand. “I take it you slept well.”
Narrowing my eyes at him, I yank my cover-up closed over my body. “I didn’t really have a choice, did I?”
Diego leans against the doorframe, staring at me with those piercing, dark eyes of his. He’s immaculately dressed and groomed just as he was last night. Black slacks hug his hips and show off the power of muscled thighs. A white dress shirt is stretched tight across his shoulders, the top two buttons undone. Through the opening, I can see a light smattering of dark chest hair, and the sparkle of a gold necklace. My eyes fixate on the things I missed last night—the chiseled hardness of his face, the way his five o’clock shadow frames a pair of shapely lips. I can make out black ink on his knuckles—letters spelling out different words on both hands, PRIDE on one and FAITH on the other.
Damn it. Either I’m still high from being drugged, or this man is pushing every one of my buttons right now. If he hadn’t kidnapped me less than twelve hours ago, I would give in to the sudden and unwanted attraction that sparks at the sight of him. The man certainly has presence; I’ll give him that.
“I’m sorry about the injection,” he says, actually sounding sincere. “But Jovan and I had to assure your compliance as well as your safety.”