—Tristan— “What do you want?” she spat, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. She got off but stayed there, glaring at me. “What do you want?” she repeated. Truthfully, I didn’t know what I wanted other than knowing I had to see her. I longed to touch her, to slowly slide my hardness into her wet pussy. I knew that wouldn’t happen…not yet. So I guess what I wanted then was just to push her and see how hard she pushed back. I just gave her a devilish smile, one that came over my face subconsciously. If I flashed a woman that smile at a club, she would make a bee-line to me in just seconds. “The guards said you were quiet all day.” She shook her head then shrugged. “It’s not like I have a choice.” “I hope you can see that my hands are tied here, Ellie.” She stared at me then heavily sighed. “That doesn’t mean I have to like it. Or you,” she added quickly. “You don’t have to like me,” I said. “Just listen to me. I really don’t want
—Ellie— I sat on the bed, shaking. What the fuck had just happened? I pulled the blankets over my legs and removed the ice pack from my forehead. The bleeding had stopped, but I still felt shocked. Things had escalated fast—so fast. Tristan came into the room, his questioning innocuous. Then he touched me, oh God, it felt so good and all he did was run one finger over my collarbone. If only he touched more of me… My pussy quivered. I closed my eyes and let out a breath. Part of me was mad. I pushed him away. If I hadn’t, we could be having sex right now. My mouth was suddenly dry. I opened my eyes and looked around the room. He wanted me. That was obvious. When his erection pressed against me, I wanted him too. I wanted him to tease me, to make me want him. “Fuck,” I muttered. Just minutes after he had left the room, someone came in to attend to my wounds. All I needed was a Band-Aid and an ice pack, nothing serious. Was tha
—Tristan— I drive like the hounds of hell are coming for me, I can't believe that she's been under my nose all this while. Was this part of their plan? For her to get close to me and eventually kill me? Or did she really tell the truth and she has no idea who I am. Either way it doesn't matter, I have her now and I'm going to use her to bring down Salvador. U finally get to the house, I don't even bother parking well or turning off the car. "Tristan wait, you can't just barge in there, we need a plan." Damian tells me. "Plan? I'm going to go in there and let her know the jig is up and I know who she really is and lock her in the basement." "No, I don't think we should do that, if you go in there looking all angry and she really is working for Salvador she'll find a way to warn him. We have to go about this in a different way." I take a deep breath and try to calm myself down. "So what's your plan?" "She trusts you, let's just act normal
—Ellie— When I crack open my eyelids, I blink a few times to make sure I’m not dreaming. My thoughts are muddy, my tongue is dry, and my wrists really hurt. There’s a weird medicinal taste in my mouth that I want to spit out, but I’m seriously low on saliva. I shake my head to try to get rid of the brain fog and get rewarded with a sharp pain in my shoulder. Oh, that might be due to the fact that someone tied my wrists together with a rough rope and left me hanging by my arms. I’m in a square room, about the size of a bedroom. Tiled floor, unfinished walls, and a narrow window near the ceiling that’s mostly covered with newspaper, but there’s bright light coming through the gaps. It faces somewhere outside. A soft trickle of a bossa nova song makes it past the glass. Dread swoops in faster than my memory. Where the hell am I, and how did I get here? My toes bump against the ground. I quickly realize if I stand up straight, I can
—Ellie— Damian dragged me down a flight of stairs into a basement. Before I could utter another word, he opened a heavy door and stepped inside a room with me. My eyes darted around. A cell. My stomach lurched when I saw the toilet and shower in one corner, but even worse when I took in the stained mattress on the floor across from them. Red and yellow stains. Terror gripped me hard, and suddenly I realized what was supposed to happen here. My eyes flew up to a camera in the corner to my right then back to Damian. He was Enforcer of the Camorra, and while my parents had tried to shelter me, my cousin Mateo had been more forthcoming with information. I knew what Enforcers did, especially in Mexico. Ok I know what you're thinking that I lied, well I didn't, my uncle did not send me here and until I was kidnapped I had no idea who Tristan was. Damian scanned my face and released me with a sigh. I stumbled back and almost lost my balance when
—Ellie— Tristan blocked my attack by hitting my wrist. My years of training with Mateo prevented me from dropping the knife despite the sharp pain in my wrist. A smile crossed Tristan’s face, and I released my dress and rammed my fist into his abdomen while I slashed the knife at him once more. The blade grazed his arm and blood trickled down, but Trista didn’t even wince. His smile got wider as he took a step back, completely unfazed. I lunged at him but got caught in my long skirt. I barreled into Tristan and tried to land another deadlier cut. We fell and Tristan landed on his back with me on top of him. I straddled him and stabbed at his stomach, but he gripped my wrist with a twisted grin on his face. I tried to force the knife down, but Tristan didn’t budge. And then, suddenly, he showed me what it was like when he actually tried fighting back. He bucked his hips, and before I could react, I landed on my back and Tristan was on top
—Tristan— Eleanor was everything I’d hoped for and so much more. A queen in my game of chess, indeed. Noble and proud like a queen and arrogant and spoiled like one too. She made me want to break her. I emptied my scotch and hit the bar. Jerry refilled my glass. The whores had gathered at the other end of the bar as far away from me as possible. As usual. “She’s so beautiful,” the whore who had brought Ellie clothes said to the others. She was. Ellie was a masterpiece, almost too beautiful. I drank another scotch, considering returning to the basement, to Ellie. Whatever you take, it’ll always be less than what he would have gotten. You will have to settle for the consolation prize. Her words were an insistent pounding in the back of my head. And fuck, I knew she was right. Taking from Ellie what I wanted wouldn’t feel like a victory. There was no challenge in doing so. She was weaker and at my mercy. I slammed the glass down on the c
—Tristan— I raced down the stairs when I heard Simon’s cackling and spotted him in the doorway to Ellie’s cell, not inside of it. I slowed, knowing there was no rush. He wasn’t that stupid. Stupid enough, but not so stupid to try touching something that was mine. “Get out, you disgusting pervert,” I heard Ellie’s voice. “Shut up, whore. You aren’t in New York. Here you are nothing. I can’t wait to bury my cock in your cunt once Tristan is done breaking you in.” “I won’t shower in front of you. Get out!” “Then I will call Tristan and tell him to punish you.” Oh ... so he would call me? Interesting. I stalked closer, not making a sound. Simon’s back twitched like he was busy jerking off, which was probably the case. My mouth pulled into a snarl, but I held back my anger. More silence followed and I approached without making a sound. Simon’s profile appeared in my view, leaning in the doorway with his hand clutching his ugly dic