Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 92976 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92976 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
“I don’t like how bossy you are.” My accusation came out far too breathily, and I couldn’t look directly at him.
“I thought I warned you about lying to me,” he drawled.
Suddenly, his warm breath fanned across my neck, and his tone dropped lower as he leaned in close. “You do like when I’m bossy. And that makes me happy. Do you want to know why?”
“Why?” I whispered, an automatic response to his low prompting. I didn’t register that my eyes closed. My other senses were far too overwhelmed to compete. His scent surrounded me; his heat licked at my skin; his deep voice filled my mind like a warm, heavy fog.
“Because I like when you obey me, Sofia.” I could practically hear his dark smile. “I like it because I want to protect you, and I’ll issue commands with your best interests in mind. But sometimes…” He paused, and I felt his lips ghost over the shell of my ear. “Sometimes, I’ll order you to do things for my pleasure. You’ll want to obey just because you know it will please me. Because you do like being my good girl. And I promise you’ll be rewarded for your obedience.”
His forefinger touched my neck, brushing along the line of my artery. A needy little whimper eased up my throat.
He made a satisfied humming sound that I felt deep in my body, as though he’d plucked a bass string somewhere low in my belly.
A blaring ringtone jolted me out of the moment, and my eyes snapped open. Mateo’s heat withdrew from me, and he muttered a curse.
“I have to get this,” he told me, not waiting for me to respond before he answered the call. “Adrián,” he said into the receiver, suddenly clipped and business-like. “Yes, she’s fine.” His eyes remained fixed on me, even though I wasn’t actually included in the conversation. “I’m not sure yet. We’ll see.”
I frowned and crossed my arms over my chest. Mateo was talking to Adrián about me again, and I didn’t appreciate not being invited to voice my own opinion. I might not hate Mateo, but I also wasn’t thrilled about this arrangement. Being with him was better than being imprisoned in my childhood home, but it still wasn’t what I would have chosen.
It didn’t seem that anyone actually cared about my choices.
While I’d been having fun with Mateo over breakfast, I’d managed to forget my anguish at utterly losing control over my own life. It was easier to allow myself to be distracted by him than to dwell on my awful new reality. I’d struggled with control issues in the past, and I’d worked hard to overcome my negative coping mechanisms.
Finding out that my father was a drug lord and being held hostage by my long-time crush was a hell of a lot more to deal with than my mom trying to dictate my teenage hairstyle.
I took a deep breath and blew it out slowly, purposefully releasing the tension that was beginning to build in my chest. The last thing I needed right now was to fall back into old, addictive habits that I’d kicked years ago.
“Yes, boss,” Mateo said. “I’ll keep you updated.”
He ended the call and slipped his phone back into his pocket, only to withdraw my own rose gold phone a second later.
Automatically, I reached for it. He pulled back slightly and fixed me with a warning frown.
“Oh, come on,” I complained. “You’re seriously not going to give me my freaking phone?”
“I don’t know what you might do if I give you access to call for help,” Mateo countered. “So for now, I am the only one who handles your phone.”
I threw up my hands, exasperated. “I’m not exactly being a difficult prisoner here,” I pointed out. “I’m not fighting you or trying to run away. We just made scrambled eggs together, for god’s sake. Believe me, I don’t want to go home and see my dad anytime soon.”
He studied me for a long moment, his eyes scanning my face as though he could look right into my thoughts and read my sincerity.
“All right,” he allowed. “If that’s true, then this won’t be a problem. Tell me which of your friends I should text so they don’t worry about why you’re not in class. And I’ll need the names of your professors, so I can email them to make an excuse for you.”
“But you don’t have to do that,” I insisted. “You said I could go back to my classes if I behaved. I’m not fighting you.”
His head canted to the side, considering. “I said you might be able to go back to your classes, once I can trust you to obey me, no matter what.”
“Ugh, enough with all this obedience bullshit,” I insisted hotly. “You know what? No. I’m not going to tell you who to text and email.”