I held my tongue and watched her. She looked different in the early morning glow—softer, almost angelic. Tantalizing in a way that hollowed out a man’s mind and made them do stupid shit.
She saw me watching her and gave me a crooked grin, but her eyes gave her away. They burned with too much fire to belong toanybody soft, but I bet she would feel soft. I had never ached to touch anybody, but I ached for her.
“I haven’t decided yet,” I said finally, my voice low.
She raised an eyebrow. “Well, while you’re deciding, you mind getting me something to eat? I’m starving. I gotta piss too.”
There it was again—the slight Northern accent peeking out.
Who the hell was this woman?
I stared.
“Who do I remind you of? The longing on your face is killing me.”
I tensed. She was reading me too damn easily. Most people didn't see past what I allowed them to.
I shook my head and opened my mouth to answer, but nothing came out.
She kept going. “Your mother?” Her eyes narrowed. “Nah, not her. Not a sister either.” Her gaze darkened, a wicked spark lighting up her doe eyes. “You looked like you wanted to fuck me earlier. Your wife?”
I don’t know what gave me away, but she shook her head and answered her own question. “Yeah. It’s your wife, isn’t it? She dead? Left you?”
I nodded before I could stop myself. She had me mesmerized, and I fucking hated it.
She tilted her head. Then, with a smirk that shouldn’t have made my dick instant iron, she whispered in perfect Spanish, "¿Era latina como tú, papi?"
She was taunting me.
"I know your type," she murmured, her voice dropping to a hushed, lethal register. "Pretty little petite thing, Latina or Asian women, sweet as honey, long black hair, little frame... just enough of all the good parts."
Her smirk widened as she delivered the final blow. "El amor de tu vida."
My jaw clenched so tight it ached. My head was foggy with how badly I wanted to pin her into the mattress and stuff her mouth for my pleasure to make her shut up. I had to breathe slowly, through my nose, just to keep from doing exactly that.
I moved towards her, she didn’t even flinch.
The metal clicked as I unlocked the cuffs. She didn’t waste a second before standing, rubbing her wrists and rolling them to ease the stiffness. Her movements were unhurried, like she was completely unbothered by the fact that she’d just been chained to a stranger’s bed.
"Go use the restroom, shower, and meet me in the kitchen," I ordered, stepping back to give her space. I could hear the dangerous edge in my own tone, but I still forced out the warning. "Don’t try to run. My place is locked by a security code. If you kill me, you’ll die in here because you won’t be able to bypass the door, and there’s no phone. It’s locked up tight."
She nodded, her face calm and unreadable. I could see the wheels turning in her head, though; she was already calculating her options, mapping out her next move.
I watched her for a second longer than I should have, my eyes tracing the lines of her profile.
This woman wasn’t just some random bystander. She was someone. Tied to something or someone important, dangerous.She was too confident with me, too at ease for a woman who had just been ripped from her life.
And I was going to find out exactly who she was.
I turned, leaving her to the bedroom, and headed for the kitchen.
Chapter Six— Vinny
Chinese food sat on the table, the smell of soy sauce and fried rice filling the room.
I heard my bedroom door open, and I turned, expecting her to come in the clothes I'd laid out for her. A t-shirt. Sweatpants. Nothing fancy, just something to cover her.
But no.
