Sasha
I had to learn the lay of the land and August’s schedule if there was any hope of escaping. And where the hell would I go? Bruno led the way to the end of the hall, opening the door for me and ushering me inside. He flipped on the light and stood in the doorway like before. The room was gorgeous, much like the rest of the house. Everything was very relaxed yet opulent, reminiscent of an expensive beach house. The bed was massive, no doubt a king filled with pillows and a dazzling comforter. However, everything had a feminine touch, complete with all my favorite colors, shades of tangerine and violet, fuchsia and shocking blue. There were even new perfumes on the dresser, all three of my favorites.
“Does August the Enforcer think he’s going to win me over by providing my brand of perfume?” I knew the question wouldn’t be answered. There were even hairbrushes and combs, books and magazines that I could enjoy. What was the man thinking?
There was a French door on the opposite side, no doubt leading to a balcony or small deck, a comfy overstuffed leather chair positioned near a floor-to-ceiling window. Every piece of furniture was warm, the wood bird’s-eye maple.
Another surprise regarding August. Another blasphemous wave of yearning.
“This is beautiful.” I ran my hand along the top of the dresser, marveling at the feel. I noticed an attached bathroom and what appeared to be a walk-in closet.
“August has excellent tastes in all things, Miss Morales.”
“He speaks,” I said, giving him a hard stare as I took a sip of wine. He was also uncomfortable around me. “I apologize. I don’t mean to take this out on you. You’re just an employee.”
“I’ve been August’s friend for almost twenty years.”
The words I wouldn’t have expected. “Really?” I walked closer. “And you can call me Sasha.”
This time, his eyes flashed perhaps out of amusement or out of some limited gratitude. I made no mistake about his level of danger. I could imagine he was able to break a man in half with his bare hands, not to mention the fact he had a pistol attached to a holster under his arm. The outline was clear and I knew my guns very well.
“While I understand that you have concerns about being here, August is a good man. He has a lot to deal with right now.”
“And I’m just another tick on his check sheet. Destroy a man and his career. Check. Abduct the man’s daughter for the heck of it. Check.”
For the first time, I saw a level of emotion on Bruno’s face, even a bead of sweat trickling down the side.
“There are many things you don’t understand, Miss Morales, and I suggest that you try and listen instead of demanding. I have no intention of hurting you, but I will if necessary.”
“You’re that close to… to that monster?”
“As I said, that monster is my friend and yes, I’d die for him.”
The words seemed to echo.
I walked closer, forced to tilt my head in order to look into his eyes. “Then help me understand. Why couldn’t there have been a different arrangement with my father?”
Bruno cocked his jaw, shifting a quick gaze over his shoulder. “Your father isn’t who you believe him to be.”
“Meaning?”
He refused to answer.
“Meaning?” My tone was much more demanding.
“In truth, Miss Morales, I hope that you never have to find out. That would shatter the very concept of him as your father. I will bring you something to eat if you’d like.”
I opened my mouth, trying to think of some horrible retort, but I knew in my gut what the man was saying was right. My father had sold his soul to the devil years before. “I’m not hungry, Bruno, but thank you.”
He nodded and backed out of the door, grabbing the handle. His hesitation was followed by a gruff exhale. “While you may choose not to believe this, August has never cared for another woman the way he does for you.”
“He doesn’t care about me, Bruno. I am an object. A thing. That’s all. Don’t fool yourself. You believe in your friend and I can respect that, but he’s no better than my father. August is a murderer and a vile dangerous man. Nothing more.”
His smile was one I couldn’t quite figure out. “That’s where you’re wrong. Goodnight, Miss Morales.” I knew his words would stay with me long after I turned out the lights. For a man like Bruno to be absolutely transfixed by a man like August was… “Huh.” I couldn’t even find the right word.
I kicked off my shoes and studied the room, finding my things still in suitcases on the floor. The bathroom was posh, complete with a shower and a whirlpool bathtub. So much for the steel cage and chains. I walked toward the French doors, peering out into the night sky. The snow continued to fall and there was only landscape lighting marking the driveway, illuminating the falling flakes. I had no idea where I was, but I assumed outside the city limits.
I was exhausted, more so than I’d realized. I was also filthy, at least in my mind, covered with August’s stench. I gulped more wine, nearly breaking the stem when I slapped it on the dresser and yanked my suitcase on the top of the bed. My fingers were stiff as I fumbled to yank the zipper, tossing what few clothes I’d brought all over the bed. I finally found the soft robe, perhaps the one piece of clothing I would live in.
Snarking, I kicked off my shoes, not caring where they flew and stalked into the bathroom, turning on the water in the tub. I enjoyed jerking open the cabinets and drawers, some of my angry steam stripped away upon finding everything fully equipped. Bath beads and shower gel. Plush towels and even a bathrobe that was so soft and luxurious, I buried my face into it. There was even a music system. This just didn’t seem like August.
I refilled my wine, found some Spanish guitar music, tossed my clothes, and finally eased in the warm bubbles, sinking all the way in. Everything was out of sorts. Everything was crazy. No, I was losing my mind.
A range of emotions flooded my mind, drilling into me as visions of the past two days flowed. I grabbed the wine, lifting the glass in a silent salute. August was a damn good poker player, the best I’d ever seen. He’d plied me with bullshit and I’d bought into it. Hook. Line. And…
I was unable to stop the tears as they flowed. All the anger and all the fear had finally broken me down. Sobs racked my entire body and for a few minutes, I allowed the self-pity. I had no one who would look for me, not really. I was certain my father had managed a tall tale to tell my friends, something no doubt glamorous and totally bullshit. I was alone and what was worse? I was desperately lonely.
I remained in the tub until the water was cold, but I still didn’t feel clean. His scent remained, covering me like a warm blanket, a reminder that I belonged to him. I glared at my reflection, making faces and lifting my middle fingers. At least the tears were gone, replaced by a resurgence of the tough girl.
For now.
I held my head as I opened the door, wanting nothing more than to crawl into bed. Stopping short, I was shocked at the sight. My clothes had been hung up, shoes neatly positioned on the floor, and my suitcase put away. On the small table in front of the leather chair was a beautiful plate of cheese, fruit, and crackers, arranged in a lovely display. Even the bed had been turned down and…
I sucked in my breath as I walked closer. Positioned just below the pillow was a single white rose, my favorite flower. Beside was a note, the writing exquisitely mastered with gilded lettering, the words fueling the embers, my pussy clenching.
Sleep well…