Arranged love

Taking that drink, he then sets it down at the minibar and begins to unbutton his suit jacket before slipping out of it. He places it neatly on the seat next to him. Then he undoes his cuff links, rolling up the sleeves to his black button-up. Tattoos cover his arms and knuckles-mainly black with very little color to them. I can’t make out what exactly they are from here, but I catch sight of a skull ring on his right ring finger. It looks oddly familiar, but I can’t place it.

I’m not surprised, though. My brothers all wear a tacky gold ring on their fingers to signify their connection to our world. It’s how the cults like to show they have power.

Once satisfied and comfortable, he reaches down and picks up a small lunch box. I shove myself farther into the seat when he comes to sit on the long bench to my right. “Stay away,” I order, placing my hands up.

He grips my arm and yanks me from the seat. My knees hit the floor, and my body falls between his open legs. My breathing picks up, my heart now racing with the fear of the unknown. He holds my tied hands in front of him with one hand, and the other goes to the lunch box. He pulls out an ice pack. “Hold this to your face,” he orders, glaring down at me.

“What? Am I too ugly for you now that I have bruises?” I snarl. If that’s the case, I’ll slam my face into the door every day.

He leans down, his face inches from mine. His expensive, suffocating cologne covers me like a blanket, making it hard to breathe. I try to pull away, but he holds me in place. “If you’re going to sport bruises, they’ll be from my hands. No one else.”

I don’t look away from his stare and snap, “Prefer your women black and blue?”

He reaches his free hand into his pocket and pulls out a pocketknife. He flips the blade open, and I suck in a long breath. I close my eyes as he lowers it to my face, but I feel the zip tie snap open, my wrists pulling apart in the process. Then he’s shoving the ice pack in my right hand. “I won’t say it twice,” he says before pushing me away.

I fall onto my ass, my back hitting the minibar. He goes back over to his original seat by the door and picks up his drink, dismissing me.

BONES

I WATCH HER return to the bench seat across from where I sit. She’s much smaller in height and overall size than she looked on stage. She’s got long, thin legs, and her neck is so fragile I could wrap my entire hand around it-easily breakable. I’m not sure if that’s naturally or from malnutrition.

She stares out the window, holding the ice pack to the side of her face. It angers me that the pathetic man hit her. Men like him are weak. He needed his ass beat. I’ll do it. Later. Her evening gown was supposed to make her look like a princess, but it’s ripped up her thigh, and my eyes keep going to the lace material that covers her pussy.

“Where is home?” she asks, not bothering to look at me.

I take a sip of my drink.

Her head slowly turns to finally look me in the eyes. Her porcelain face is tight, nose scrunched, eyes looking smaller by the second as she glares at me. I half expect her to throw the ice pack at my face. And that turns me on.

Fight me, beautiful.

She sighs heavily, making her chest rise and fall with irritation. “Is it in another country?”

“Does it matter?” I finally ask.

“Yes,” she hisses, slamming the ice pack to her lap. “You’re kidnapping me.”

I bite back a smile. “Honey, I paid for you.”

That just seems to enrage her more. She starts speaking a different language. “Excuse me?”

Her words cut off, and she takes in a deep breath, the action making her chest rise again, and this time, I allow myself to watch the way her breasts bounce from the motion, making my cock hard.

“I called you a pompous, self-absorbed son of a bitch,” she clarifies with a bite and adds, “in Italian.”

I take a drink from my glass and smile behind it. She’s exactly what I expected a female Bianchi to be-fucking fire.

My cell rings, and I pull it out of my pocket to see it’s Luca. “Hello?”

“So it went well?” he rushes out. “You’ve got Mia?”

“Yes,” I say, taking another drink.

He lets out a long breath. “Thanks, Bones.” The sound of appreciation in his voice makes my chest tighten. Why has he kept her a secret all these years? Where the hell has she been? If he cared so much, why did he allow this? Between him and the Kings, we could have protected her. He has to know that we would have done whatever he needed for her. All he had to do was ask. We protect our own. I consider Luca a brother.

I look up at her to see her beautiful eyes already on mine. The soft glow of the purple lights makes them look exotic-like a rare diamond. A look of concern covers her pretty, bruised face. The ice pack is now on the floor-long forgotten.

“You saved her,” he whispers, then clears his throat. “But you do whatever you have to do. Do you understand?”

“I understand.” I acknowledge him, and her eyes go wide. Her mind thinks the worst possibilities of who I’m talking to and what I’m agreeing to do regarding her.

I’m not her ally. I need her afraid of me. I need her to want to run away from me. She needs to fear for her life. I have to be exactly like the monsters that put her in this situation in the first place.

“Call me when it’s done.” Luca hangs up.

Locking my cell, I place it next to me where my jacket lies and order, “Come here.”

She swallows nervously, and I can hear her breathing pick up. Her eyes dart to the seat next to me. My legs fall open. “Come here.” I point at the floor between them. I don’t want her ass beside me. I want her kneeling between my feet. I’m going to treat her how she expects to be treated-if I was a man buying a woman to use.

“I …”

“You don’t want me to come get you,” I warn, undoing my tie and ripping it from my collar before throwing it too on the seat and undoing the top button on my shirt, needing to be more comfortable. The air in here is too hot, suffocating.

She must see the warning written on my face because she drops to her knees and slowly makes her way across the floor in her evening gown. She stops too far away from me. I reach out, grab her hair, and yank her the rest of the way. She cries out when I bring her face to mine. Her hands go to my thighs, gripping my slacks. She’s panting. Those big silvery-blue eyes are large. A set of red-painted, plump lips parted. Her chest rises fast with each new breath she takes. I let my eyes drop to her cleavage and lick my lips, giving her a clear sign of what I’m thinking about.

“Please …” she begs softly.

My eyes look up at hers. “What happened to that fuck-you mentality? Give up that easily?” I arch a brow.