I thought you might be hungry.
There are leftovers in the refrigerator.
There were no flowery words, just a kindness that in all truthfulness, I wasn’t accustomed to. I could require people to service me no matter what I asked, but a sweet token of this nature hadn’t occurred since my childhood. There was no reason for the oddness pooling into my stomach but when I opened the refrigerator door, I was more than just surprised. Valencia had positioned various meats and cheeses, fruit and vegetables on a beautiful crystal platter, everything done in an artistic fashion. There was even a bowl of what appeared to be some type of cream.
The myriad emotions were difficult to bear, my thoughts drifting once again to all the vile and nasty things I craved doing to her. With her.
Dominating her.
Training her.
Using her.
The laugh escaping my mouth had no meaning, other than the surprise more pleasing than I wanted to admit even to myself. I felt a level of warmth inside that I’d hadn’t experienced in years. All because of cheese and fruit? Jesus.
But I eased the platter onto the counter, running my fingers over the carefully placed plastic wrap, tingling inside. I gulped the entire remainder of the scotch, my taste having changed. The red wine. There was nothing better than a bold cabernet with specially selected cheeses. I popped the cork, pouring with enough aggression that beads of the rich liquid slipped past the rim.
I was suddenly ravenous, ripping away the plastic as if I hadn’t had a meal in a solid week. The first bite of blue cheese was incredible, the swig of wine more intense than ever before. I powered through several pieces, unable to fill my mouth fast enough. The flavors were exquisite, so rich and bold, satisfying at least a portion of my palate.
The wineglass still in my hand, I walked toward the stereo system. While my tastes in music were eclectic, there was only one CD that would be acceptable. After grabbing the remote and pressing the switch, I took careful steps backwards, my chest heaving as I waited for the first few chords of the passionate concerto.
The moment I heard the cello, I closed my eyes, envisioning the concert once again. Valencia was extraordinarily accomplished, her talent remarkable. With every note, every amazing chord, I fell into a magical journey that only something so beautiful could accomplish. The darkness, the magic wrapped around the intense passage literally took my breath away.
I found myself stumbling backwards, self-loathing pushing the ache in my head to a dull roar. I could feel the level of anger releasing, a moment of raw sadness interrupting my thoughts, dragging on my synapses.
“Turn that off!”
Her demand managed to filter over the music, her voice shaking from her own heightened anger.
I took a deep breath before opening my eyes. She stood like a beacon of hope, her long hair cascading down her shoulders and arms in a halo effect. I found it difficult to respond and when I didn’t, she moved toward the stereo, slapping her hands against the CD player in an effort to stop the music.
“I said, turn it off! I don’t want to hear that crap,” she spewed, finally finding the remote. Within seconds, she had the CD in her fingers, smashing it several times against the bookshelf until there was nothing left but shards. “You took that away from me. You are selfish and intolerable. You don’t care if you hurt me. Do you? Do. You?”
I half tossed the wineglass onto the counter, taking long strides until I was able to take her wrists into my hands. “Of course I care whether you’re hurt. Answer me this question. Why? Why don’t you want to hear some of the most beautiful music in the world, a moment that you created? Why?”
“Because,” she spit out, struggling to free herself from my rock-solid hold. “Why does it matter to you? You don’t really give a shit about me and I know better than to think you’re going to allow me to have my cello. You don’t care about my needs or wants, whether or not I deserve to be happy. You only care about yourself and your vicious world of criminals. Monsters. You’re evil. You’re truly evil!”
“Don’t you understand how much I do care about you? All of you? And yes, I want you to be happy.”
“Prove it, Miguel. Prove to me that you actually give a damn about anything other than yourself.”
I was ripped apart inside, the longing moving into a level that I couldn’t control. “I don’t have to prove anything to you. You belong to me. Period.”
“I’m not your possession. I don’t deserve this life.”
“This is the only life you’re going to have, Valencia. I suggest you get used to it.” I crushed my mouth over hers, my fingers digging into her wrists. Light flashed in my field of vision as the passionate moment became a roar, a predator taking his mate, a monster capturing his prey. I’d never felt so damn alive, so animalistic.
I dominated her tongue as she continued to fight me, trying to pummel her fists against my chest, half screaming into the kiss. I let go of one of her wrists, raking my fingers down her back, cupping her buttocks and forcing her hips against mine. I gathered a whiff of her feminine wiles, her own desire that she refused to acknowledge. I’d seen the hardness of her nipples poking through the thin material of her gown.
She was mine. All mine.
I was wild in my actions, dark and husky growls rushing up from my chest, the beast within me clawing its way to the surface. The taste of her, the heat of her body against mine was too much to bear. I slid my hand under her gown, caressing her bottom.
She wiggled again, slamming her fist against my shoulder then raking her nails down my face. The shock was just enough I lost my grip. When she reared back, ready to strike me with her open hand, I fisted her hair with one hand, her arm with the other.
“This is my house, Valencia, and I require respect. Never forget that. Never forget who owns you.”
“You may own my body, Miguel, but you’ll never own my heart. I will be free of you one day. I will find a place where you’ll never be able to find me. My father will become the hunter, and trust me, you will be killed. He is a man of honor.”
“Honor? You obviously don’t know your father very well. Do you know what he does to his enemies, Valencia? Do you know what happens to their families? They are murdered.” In my insane anger, I’d spouted off the one thing I never wanted to inflict on the woman I was falling hard for. Fuck. Me. I realized my entire body was shaking from the ridiculous amount of rage coursing through my system.
“No! My father isn’t like that. How dare you. He’s a consummate businessman even though everyone calls him ruthless.”
“How fascinating. Yank off those rose-colored glasses, sweetheart, because your father has little esteem for human life.” Snarling, I locked my eyes with hers, my thoughts shifting toward the envelope. I tamped back my hatred of the man, refusing to fall to his brutal tactics. Perhaps the man I needed to protect her from was her own father. “He is merciless in how he handles his operations, Valencia. Never think otherwise.”
“And what makes you any less coldblooded, Miguel? Did you murder that assassin you went after? Did you cut out his heart for sheer entertainment?” When I didn’t answer right away, she laughed in a disgusted manner. “Oh, wait. Did he get away from you?”
She was pulling out all the stops, trying her best to goad me. “I am very careful in who I choose to make an enemy.”
“My God, riddles. Secrets. No doubt lies,” she huffed. “While I appreciate your concern about me, I’ll be fine.”
I exhaled, only partially surprised at her tantrum. Every time I allowed her to get close to me I pulled away, either by choice or by profession. Tonight had been no different. However, I was required to make some hard choices. “You forget your place.”
“And you have no problem reminding me.” She held her head high in an act of defiance. “My father may be difficult as well as heartless at times, but he is man with a conscience and family means more to him than anything, including the lives of women and children. He will destroy you piece by piece then rescue me.”
“That’s not going to happen, sweetheart.”
“And why is that?”