The pain from the first blow forces tears from my eyes. Damn, that hurts. But there’s a craving in me that’s superseding the worst of the discomfort. I’m suddenly aware of every curve and crevice of my body, from the heaviness of my breasts pressed tightly against the mattress to the aching need deep within my core, a core that’s now flooded with wetness. Everything is being pulled tighter into focus with each new blow. It’s degrading being treated this way but the rush of dark, euphoria is unlike anything else. With a start I realize that I want him to do this to me.

I count five agonizing, intense, exhilarating blows before he finishes and leans over me, assaulting me with the scent of hot, excited male and I feel his fingers roughly pushing inside of me.

“That turned you on, didn’t it, my angel?”

“I hate you,” I lie, my voice muffled from the pillow, my cheeks damp from my tears. If I keep saying it out loud then maybe my words will disguise the truth from the both of us.

“It’s a fine line between that and the alternative.”

He’s right. I’m not fooling anyone in this room.

He removes his fingers and releases my arms from his vice-like grip. I whip my body round to face him, thankful for the dark so he can’t see my blushes. I watch silently as he stands and strips, first his t-shirt, then his jeans. In the dim light I can see he’s not wearing any underwear and he springs free, primed and ready. My core is burning. I’ve never desired anyone as much as I desire him now. To demonstrate this I don’t wait for him to undress me. Kneeling before him, I slide his t-shirt over my head and remove what’s left of my panties.

With a growl he comes for me then, driving into my body with all of his tremendous weight, cupping my face in his hands as we tumble backwards together onto the bed with me trapped underneath him. He’s savage and animalistic with his touch, scratching my breasts and thighs with his fingernails in his haste to mold himself to me. I spread my legs wide, locking my ankles around his waist as powers into me with one, ruthless thrust as if he can’t hold back from me a second longer.

“My angel!”

I cry out in response, arching into the dense wall of his abdominal muscles as his thick cock forces its way into my body.

He’s driving in and out of me at a feverish pace now. My fingertips find his ass, digging deep, demanding more of him, feeling the powerful muscles flex as they work hard to comply. His hands are buried deep in my hair, holding me immovable beneath him. The slick sound of skin on skin fills the darkness all around us. A soft sob escapes my lips. The tension between my legs is building, building… I’m hurtling towards that precipice at lightening speed.

“Do you feel me, mi alma? Do you feel how much I desire you?”

“Harder,” I gasp, “Fuck me harder, Dante. Take it all away.”

He falters suddenly, his head snapping up, his piercing gaze penetrating the gloom of the bedroom.

“Don’t stop,” I beg him, “please don’t stop.”

“Kiss me,” his urges, his lips seeking out my own as they collide in a blaze of passion, his tongue skillfully dueling with mine as his picks up his crazy pace again.

Quickly, so quickly, the fire in my core returns, dousing every nerve. It’s more intense this time, a heady, speeding rush of pleasure, and I cry out as I struggle to control the strength of the flames. Raking my fingernails down his back, I tear myself away from his mouth, screaming out his name as he drives me all the way over the edge. At the same time I feel his cock jerking inside me as he comes too, flooding me over and over with his warmth. It doesn’t seem to weaken his desire; he’s still pounding into my body regardless.

My second orgasm follows quickly after the last. After the third and fourth I come close to blacking out. He’s not letting me catch my breath. There’s an edge of pain to my pleasure now. It’s like I’ve come full circle but I can’t stop craving this physical connection with him.

I never ever want to break away.

The next morning I awake with the warmth of him still wrapped around my body. His erection is pressed against the small of my back, his heavy forearm slaked across my waist, weighting me to the bed.

“Good morning, my angel. Did you sleep well?”

“Promise me you didn’t hurt her,” I say quietly. Last night my dreams were twisted visions of bloodied limbs and piercing screams. I can’t get Valentina out of my head. I want to see her. I want to beg for her forgiveness for telling Dante about what I saw.

“You must be hungry. I’ll arrange to have something bought up for you.” He rises from the bed and the movement in the mattress rocks me as much as his silence. I’ll get no assurances from him. Perhaps that other girl, Sofía, might be able to tell me? Perhaps she knows where he’s holding her?

“Where are your clothes?” I ask, silently revelling in his naked glory as he stalks across the room. There’s not an inch of fat on that perfect plane of olive skin, only a faint disfiguring underneath his left rib cage and his right hip. Battle scars I think quickly, glancing away before he catches me staring.

“Right here,” he says, bending down to pick his shirt up of the floor.

“I don’t mean those. Where do you keep all your other stuff?”

“Why concern yourself with that?” He looks bemused as he pulls his shirt over his shoulders and starts on the buttons.

“Why? Because it’s weird. There are no jeans or shirts hanging in your closet next door but every time I see you you’re dressed differently.”

“Black magic,” he drawls, reaching for his jeans.

“I know nothing about you, Dante. You’re like some enigma with a penchant for illegal activity.”

“You know a few things, my angel, you just choose not to accept them. You choose to close your ears and eyes to exactly what I do because it’s unpalatable. I’m not judging you for it, Eve, but let’s not dress it up as something its not.”

“Maybe I’m ready to listen,” I say quietly as a vision of Ryan flashes before me eyes. “You could start by giving me a straight answer when I ask you a question.”

He turns to glare at me. “Likewise.”

There’s a pause. “You know I’m not a receptionist, don’t you?”

He smirks and turns for the door.

“How long have you known?”

“Toast or cereal, mi alma?”

“Why haven’t you killed me yet?” I watch him stiffen. “You know, don’t you? You know exactly what I write about?”

My heart is hammering in my chest. This isn’t about the safety of my parents anymore, this is about me and him. I need to see some sort of guarantee in those dark eyes because I don’t want to live the rest of my life in fear. I want to grasp at some semblance of a future or end it right here, right now in this bedroom.

“If you’re willing to torture a girl for rifling through your stuff, what are you going to do to a reporter who writes the truth about the narcotics trade, and hates everything it stands for? Because that’s who you’re really working for, isn’t it, Dante? Cartels like the Santiagos?”

He frowns. “What the fuck do you know about the Santiagos?”

“I know they’re the lowest of the low. They’re cowards who hide themselves behind others. They manipulate this whole dirty business to line their own crooked bank accounts, to hell with the families they destroy along the way…” My voice catches in my throat. “There, I’ve said it, I’ve laid all my cards on the table for you so just kill me now and get it over with.” I close my eyes and wait for the bullet.

Seconds bleed into minutes and still I’m left waiting. Eventually I force them open again. He’s standing there staring at me.

“You’re right,” he says harshly. “Perhaps we’re both guilty of enforced ignorance. And no, I’m not going to kill you, Eve Miller… you know why? Because I know you’d never betray me.”

He says it like he’s daring me to contradict him.

“How can you be so sure?” I whisper. I’m not even sure of it myself. I’d jump at the chance to avenge my brother. I know I won’t rest until the Santiagos are held accountable for his murder.

“Because you and me… whatever this is… it’s bigger than this business, my angel,” he says, his dark eyes raging at me. He walks back over to the bed and caresses my cheek with the rough pad of his thumb. “I’m not so naïve as to think that what I am and what I do doesn’t affect you. I’m not conventional, Eve. I’m not some lawyer or a bank manager and I don’t purport to be.”

“There must have a been a choice somewhere along the way… There might still be one.”

He lets go of me and sighs. “Not for me.”

“The past doesn’t always have to dictate–”

“Do you follow your own advice, Eve, or is it just a guideline for men like me?” He sounds angry now. Exasperated.

This pulls me up short.

“You know about my brother don’t you?”

“Yes… I’m sorry.”

He almost sounds remorseful. I glance at him but his face is expressionless again. I couldn’t handle it if Dante had anything to do with his death, my whole world would crumble.

Seeing the growing panic in my eyes, he leans across the bed and folds me into a tight embrace, as if he’s trying to halt my racing thoughts. He starts to stroke the back of my hair but they’re too singular and terrifying to dismiss so easily. One question keeps returning to me over and over…

What if these hands are the same that killed my brother?

Later that day I find the courage to venture downstairs again. Dante’s been absent since first thing this morning and I’m sick to death of these walls and the dark and twisted paths that my thoughts keep leading me down. Even the glorious sunshine beating down on the balcony hasn’t offered up much of a diversion for me.

I’m wearing another white shift dress – cut low with large, copper buttons all the way down the front. Easy access, just the way he likes it. At least he won’t have to rip this one apart. It’s almost as pretty as the linen dress from last night and my stomach muscles clench as I recall the shocking events during dinner. That’s another reason why I’m leaving the sanctuary of my room. I’m on a mission to find Sofía. I need to assuage some of my guilt. I need to find out if Valentina is ok.

The spacious lobby and kitchen are empty so I find myself wondering in and out of a labyrinth of beautiful but strangely sterile rooms, all featuring a similar theme of heavy dark furniture and white walls. There’s a starkness and parity to this place. Despite the elegance it’s not a home, it’s a shell. Eventually I find a couple of pictures hanging on the wall in a dining room but they’re of an unfamiliar landscape. Are these pictures of Dante’s home? Do they mean anything to him or they just throwaway artifacts?

In the courtyard I see that all the plates and candelabra have been cleared away. Even the lights from the pergola have gone. The setting is no less pretty for the lack of romance but this place is forever tainted. I pause by the table and run my finger lightly across the wooden surface. How different the evening could have gone. The finale would have been the same, though. A shiver of longing courses through me. Dante and I are like two magnets from opposing sides, drawn together by forces we can’t even hope to understand.

Turning to leave, I notice a small door built into the brickwork. It opens easily to reveal a large paddock. Two horses are grazing nearby. The nearest, a grey, lifts his head in my direction and chews thoughtfully as I edge closer and hook my elbows over the fence to watch them.

There’s a noise behind me as Dante appears in the doorway too. Instantly my stomach drops and that beat re-awakening between my thighs. He’s wearing black jeans and a black shirt that barely contains those massive shoulders and stretches tight across his broad, muscular chest. I blush as flashbacks from last night steal into my mind. There was a cruelty and viciousness to his touch, but there was an unexpected gentleness too. He calls to a bleaker part of me whilst I seem to curb the very worst of his debasement.

“Do you ride?” he asks, inclining his head at his horses as he leans his elbows over the fence next to me.

“Is that a loaded question?” I mutter and a gleam of amusement lifts his grim expression. “No,” I add quickly, “not anymore.”

How do I tell him that I adore these animals but I haven’t ridden for five years, not since Ryan’s death. How my every waking moment since that day has been a carefully controlled study in risk aversion; that I’ve done everything in my power to avoid more anguish for my parents; that I miss my former life with all of my heart but I don’t have the confidence to go back.

“How did you know I was here?” I say, changing the subject.

He points to a small security camera mounted to the corner of the house.

“Oh. Do you make a habit of spying on women?”

“Only the ones who hold my attention.”

“Until the next pretty face comes along…”

“I’m not interested in pretty. And you can get that thought out of your head because it’s never going to happen.”

His certainty is dizzying. A look of white-hot heat passes between us. “You have horses here, I never expected that,” I say, moving back from the fence. I need to put up a little distance otherwise I’ll be tumbling headfirst into his darkness again.

“I have everything you could ever want for here, Eve. You just need to open up your heart and mind and take it.”

“This will never be my home, Dante.” I scowl at him, trying to add more gravitas to my conviction.

“It already is, my angel. How many times do I have to say it? You’re mine now. Your old life is inconsequential.”

“Not to me it isn’t!” I find this argument as exhausting as it is repetitive. He’ll never let me go and I’ll never stop fighting for my freedom. “How big is this place anyway?” I say desperately.

“Big enough.”

“That’s not an answer. I thought we were going to be honest with one another?”

“I didn’t agree to anything. I never explain myself to anyone, you know that.”

I grit my teeth in frustration. He takes everything and gives me nothing in return. I will never be more than his captive, his pretty little fuck doll to use and abuse at will. Why do I feel so disappointed by this? Do I want more? I stare at his horses again but I barely see them.

“You like the grey,” he states, following my gaze.

I nod mutely. “He’s beautiful.”

“I acquired him three years ago.”

“Acquired?”

“Someone owed me.”

I don’t like the sound of that.

“I need to go away on business. I leave in an hour,” he announces, watching my reaction carefully.

Is my heart aching with relief or consternation? Happiness or resentment?

“How long will you be gone for?” I mutter eventually.

“A few days at the most. I’m leaving a squad of my best men here to keep you safe.”

“Take me with you.”

“Out of the question,” he says brusquely, thrusting his hands into his pockets and tensing that perfect jawline of his. “My destination is hours from Miami.”

And he’ll never let me leave remember?

“But I miss America so much.”

There’s a pause. “The rules of the game have changed now, Eve. What do you think will happen when you leave my protection? That maid,” he adds with an edge to his voice, “the one you have such a vested interest in has kindly announced your name and our… connection to every criminal cartel in the world. If I send you back to Miami I guarantee that in less than twenty-four hours my enemies will have shot you dead in the street.”

This news ricochets throughout my body. “You did this,” I gasp. “You’ve forced yourself into my life and infected it with your evil… oh my god, my parents!” My hand flies to my mouth in horror. “They’re in danger because of me, because of whatever this is. I have to warn them, Dante!”

“It’s too late for that.”

“What do you mean?” My knees start buckling beneath me. I clutch at the fence to stop myself from falling.

“Your parents are safe.”

They are? For the briefest of moments I dare myself to believe him.

“They’re more than safe.”

“How can you be so–?”

“Imagine the irony of me sending a security detail to protect a DEA agent,” he muses, raising his eyebrows at me.

I can’t believe what I’m hearing.

“Why Dante? Why would you that?”

He shrugs likes its no big deal. “Perhaps, my angel, I’m not such a monster after all.”