I collapse against the white tiles and let the water run in deep rivulets down my face. I stay like that for as long as I can stand the heat and the pressure. Washing the sin and him from my skin. Every part of me aches, most of all between my legs. My tears start to intermingle with the water as memories from last night come flooding back. Is this what my life is to be like from now on? To be used and abused whenever he chooses and then locked away like a dirty secret? He didn’t use a condom. God knows what diseases he’s given me. Does he even care? At least there’s no chance of me falling pregnant, I can thank my contraceptive shot for that.

Wrapping a towel around myself, I step out of the en suite and then freeze. A gorgeous white sundress has been laid out for me on the bed and a plate of delicious-smelling pastries and a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice has been placed on my nightstand. My expression hardens. Is this my reward for my total and utter submission, for allowing him to fuck me exactly how he wanted?

“Do you like it?”

I spin round in shock. He’s leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, staring straight at me. The air seems to vanish from the room as my periphery narrows and focuses. He’s all I can see. I can’t tear my eyes away. He’s wearing black jeans and a white t-shirt that hugs his ripped torso like a second skin. He’s so beautiful I can barely breathe. His stillness is unnerving, his expression unreadable.

“Well?”

“Why would I?” I retort angrily. “I’m your prisoner not your whore. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t treat me as such.”

He raises his eyebrows at my little outburst. “I pay my whores for subservience, Eve. I can hardly accuse you of that.”

His whores? That thought settles uncomfortably in the pit of my stomach and my cheeks start to redden.

“It’s a conciliatory gesture, my angel,” he adds, sweeping his eyes over my face and noting my discomfort. “Don’t read into it any further than that.”

“You didn’t use protection,” I blurt out. “Did you do so with your whores?”

“That’s not something you need to concern yourself with.”

“That’s not an answer! This is my health we’re talking about. My future!”

He sighs. “I’m clean and so are you, Eve. I have a file of your medical records sitting on my desk downstairs.”

He does?

“So where’s my file on you then? Am I supposed to just trust you on this?”

“Yes. I’ll leave you to eat your breakfast and get dressed.”

He turns and exits the room and I stare after him long after he’s gone. So there are rules in this twisted game of roulette he’s forcing me to play. I won’t contract an STD but he’ll shoot me in the head if I don’t do exactly as he says. Even so, a tiny spark of hope is smoldering away inside. Despite my angry words I appreciate the clothes and the breakfast – god knows it’ll be heaven to wear anything other than a crumpled bed sheet. There’s something else that’s causing this budding optimism as well.

He’s gone and left his bedroom door wide open.

I dress quickly before he returns. He’s laid out white lingerie for me too, plus a pair of navy-blue espadrilles to go with the sundress. I slide the garment over my head, glancing at the label as I do. Designer of course, no doubt costing more than I spend on utilities in a month. Still, the silky material feels so seductive against my skin and the size fits perfectly. I never would have chosen this dress myself. It’s too low cut. The waist cinches in to show off my slenderness, which in turn emphasizes my generous chest and it stops a good six inches above my knees. At home I would have hurled it to the floor and left the changing room in disgust but here, with the relentless heat beating down on the glass windows, it’s almost impossible to refuse. I keep the shoes off, though. I’m not giving him the satisfaction of accepting every single gift he offers me.

Next, I sit on the edge of the bed and devour the pastries. I’m so hungry I consume every last morsel, spilling crumbs all over the silver tray and floor. I’m just draining the last of my orange juice when I hear heavy footsteps in the corridor outside. I scrabble to feet as he enters the room. He stops short when he sees me standing there and I watch his dark eyes raking up and down my body. I can tell he likes what he sees because that mysterious current has started to wax and wane between us again.

“Dresses suits you,” he states, stepping further into the room and closing the door behind him. “You should wear them more often.”

I shake my head, feeling inexplicably shy all of a sudden. “I don’t like to stand out. To anyone.”

“Everybody stands out to someone.”

“What if it’s not reciprocated?” I tilt my chin in his direction. “Are women like me forced to suffer because of it? I have no wish to be highly prized thanks to some pretty piece of material. I have better designs for my life than that.”

Or I did until you crash-landed into it.

Those full lips start twisting again. “Duly noted. I’d be gravely disappointed if you didn’t. Not after that excellent education of yours.”

“Don’t do that,” I say, feeling dirty and violated again. “Don’t drop hints like you know everything about my life. It’s creepy and invasive. You may have some list detailing what school and college I went to but you will never know what’s in my heart, my thoughts, my desires, my favorite film, book…”

“To Kill A Mocking Bird,” he says abruptly.

“Excuse me?”

“Your favorite book.”

I frown. “How did you…?”

“It’s a genuine guess, though rather apt don’t you agree?” He’s mocking me again, I can tell. “I imagine everything feels like one long injustice to you at the moment, my angel.”

Fuck you I want to scream.

“And I know you like the dress.”

You infuriating, smug, son of a bitch... I glare at him as a flood of warmth settles deep within my core, sharpening my senses and quickening my pulse rate. I hate him. I want him. What the hell is wrong with me?

He takes a step in my direction and I take a step back. I’m frightened suddenly. In another time and place this man would be so easy to fall for. Regardless, he continues to prowl my way, his sinfully seductive eyes never once leaving my face. I’m backed up against the mattress now. There’s nowhere left to run.

“Join me for dinner,” he says softly, reaching out to brush away a stray crumb from my upper lip then frowning as I cringe away from his touch.

“No thank you.”

“It wasn’t a request.”

“Then I was right, I have no free will, not as long as you’re attracted to me.”

“I believe you were referring to a one-sided state of affair before,” he says, cocking his handsome head to one side. “I think we re-established those parameters last night, don’t you? Or do you need another reminder?”

He’s so close to me now. I can feel the raw heat radiating off his body and his rich scent is scrambling my senses. I watch him glance down at the outline of my nipples, so prominent through the thin fabric of my dress. He knows full well the effect that he has on me and he’s relishing every minute of it.

“Where are you from?” I gasp, changing the subject. “What country?”

He frowns. “I’ll tell you over dinner.”

“I don’t want to have dinner with you.”

“And I said you don’t have a choice, mi alma. Do I have to fuck you into submission again? Do you need a reminder of just how much you bend to my every whim?”

I inhale sharply. His words are like a lit match to my lust. I’m still aching from last night but this burning need to feel him inside me is overriding everything. “Screw you,” I gasp but my voice is as weak and breathless as my resolve, and it’s fading fast.

He starts tutting at me. “Don’t say such tempting things to me. You have no idea how much I’d like to lift that dress up and see how tightly your new lingerie caresses the curves of your body. Are you wet already? I bet you a million dollars you are. So white, so angelic… Just how I requested. My maid has exquisite taste, don’t you think?”

My eyes widen in shock. No man has ever spoken to me like that before. He’s right, though. My core is throbbing for him, stronger now than ever. He reaches out and slowly draws a line with his finger from my cheek all the way down to my collarbone, then lower still to my left breast before cupping and kneading the tender tissues, lightly running his thumb over my erect nipple and making me shudder.

He inclines his head and drops a kiss to my temple, intimidating me with the sheer scope of his masculinity again. With his other hand he catches the hem on my dress and draws it all the way up my thigh before sliding a teasing finger across the front of my underwear. I drop my hand to his to stop his progression but my efforts are half-hearted at best.

“Just as I thought,” he murmurs, nudging my legs apart with his foot. “You’re soaking for me, my angel. I could take you right now and just slide on in.”

As if to prove the point he pulls the material to one side and slips his finger between my folds. My head tumbles forward into the hardness of his shoulder as he withdraws and thrusts again, one finger becoming two. My cries are muffled by the soft fabric of his t-shirt as my inner muscles start gripping at him helplessly.

“Do you like that, my angel?” he murmurs.

“Yes,” I pant, aching for more, “don’t stop.”

He laughs softly. “As you wish.”

My grip on his hand slackens as he forces a slow and steady rhythm, his thumb occasionally brushing against my clitoris and shooting heart-stopping sensations throughout my pelvis. I can feel his other hand on the nape of my neck now, pressing my face tighter against his body as he rests his forehead against the top of my hair. I want to grab him and pull him closer, rip open his flies and have him climb inside of me, yet a part of me still refuses to acquiesce to this man. If I’m to learn more about my brother’s killer then I can’t let him claim me completely.

My breathing is all over the place as he continues to drive his fingers in and out of my body. I’m so close now… He could tip me over the edge at any moment. As if sensing this he presses the hard heat of his palm against my clitoris.

“Come for me,” he orders roughly and I do just that, crying out as my inner muscles convulse around his fingers, clutching his hand to hold him still and deepen the sensations as I’m consumed by the raging wildfire inside. My forehead is still tightly pressed against his chest as a solitary tear rolls down my cheek. I’m terrified by this man’s ability to turn my emotions inside out, making me dismiss all reason and doubt the second his skin touches mine.

“Now, about that dinner,” he purrs, his hot breath like a soft caress against my ear lobe.

“I haven’t agreed to anything yet,” I say weakly.

He smirks and grasps my upper arms, tipping me backwards onto the bed before reaching for his belt. “Then, my angel, I’ll just have to persuade you a little harder.”

He keeps me in bed with him for hours but the more pleasure he gives me the more I’m learning to despise my body. It keeps betraying me in the worst possible way and screaming out in ecstasy whenever he puts his hands on me. My lust and my hate are so tightly intertwined. All the edges are blurred. There’s a well of darkness inside him that I’m both drawn to and repulsed by.

I can’t hope to have any perspective whilst he’s dictating and dominating every part of my life. I have no sway over what happens to me here in this compound, from my choice of clothes right down to the food I’m allowed to eat. The only things I’m allowed to keep for myself are my thoughts and my heart, but he seems hell-bent on gunning for those as well.

He’s sleeping now. His chest is pressed tightly against my back and one arm is thrown carelessly around my waist, holding my close to his hard body. I’m motionless in his embrace but my mind is spinning wildly. My gaze is fixed on the bedroom door. He kicked it shut earlier before he removed the last of his clothes but he never locked it. Either he’s getting careless or there really is no escape from him but right now I’m feeling reckless enough to find out. A few minutes, that’s all I need… just a brief reprieve from my prison cell to sharpen my senses and harden my resolve.

My breath is coming out in shallow gasps at the thought of what he’ll do to me when he finds out. His rage will be terrible. I have to try it, though. I have to claim a few minutes to myself for the sake of my sanity.

With my heart crashing against my rib cage, I slowly work to free myself from his embrace, removing his arm and slithering sideways out of bed. He grunts and rolls over onto his front. I crouch there on the floor, immobile and staring, temporarily transfixed by his sleeping beauty, intimidated by the sheer length and breadth of him sprawled out across the mattress. His carved features are softened by sleep. There’s no rigidity in his expression anymore, only peace. A lock of his black hair has fallen over his face and his olive skin is stretched tight over his thick forearms and biceps. This man could snap me in two if he wanted and that thought sends an unpleasant shiver down my spine. He’s much older than me but there are no grey hairs in those silky dark waves. Still, the lines on his forehead suggest hardships and struggle. This man has endured to reach this bedroom with me.

I dress swiftly and silently, throwing the dress back over my head and scooping up my panties from the floor. He grunts again and I freeze. Any minute now those eyes will open and blind me with their darkness, yet by some miracle they stay shut.

Sliding out of the room, I find myself in a wide corridor filled with doors, a curved staircase at one end. I take the steps two, three at a time but my descent seems endless. Everything in this house is super-sized and there’s an old colonial-style feel to it, from the polished wooden floors to the stark whiteness of the walls. Like his bedroom, there are no pictures or photographs suspended from the picture rails, just more of the same dark furniture. The only movement comes from the white muslin drapes at the window as the gentle afternoon breeze whips the material into formless shapes.

At the bottom of the stairs I discover another door – solid, wooden, metal-studded. Open? I test out that possibility, pushing the handle down as I hold my breath. My heart is pounding so hard I could black out at any moment. To my amazement the door opens with a soft click…

“Hey!”

There’s a shout behind me. I swing round, my face frozen in terror. The same girl who’s been delivering food to my captor’s bedroom is emerging from a side room carrying a bunch of white lilies. She’s wearing a red dress and her copper hair is tied into a loose ponytail.

“Does Señor Dante know you’re here?” she says, sounding fearful.

So she does speak perfect English. I’m angry and hurt as I recall all the times I pleaded with her and was met with blank ignorance.

“I said, does Señor Dante know you’re here?” she repeats, more urgently this time. Her eyes keep darting to the empty staircase.

Her raised voice attracts another woman from the same room. She’s of a similar age, Hispanic too, pretty with a round, generous face. Her welcoming smile fades when she sees me cowering by the door. Who the hell are all these women?

“You keep her here,” urges the first girl. “I’m going to fetch Señor Dante.”

“Calm down, Valentina,” says a deep voice. “I’m right here.”

My stomach drops as my captor saunters down the staircase, barefoot. He’s already dressed in his jeans and he’s slowly pulling on his t-shirt, benefitting all three of us with his muscular torso. I risk a quick glance at the other women. Judging from all the floor-gazing going on they’re not immune to his beauty either.

“Eve’s just exploring her parameters again, aren’t you, my angel?” he explains pleasantly but there’s a dangerous snap to his voice that roots me to the spot.

Shooting me a hard look, he strides over to the cupboard and opens the door. Punching a code into the safe there, he takes out a revolver and slides it into the front waistband of his jeans. Walking back over to me, he grabs my arm and yanks me out of his way as he opens the front door.

“Let’s take a little walk, shall we?” he murmurs, pushing me out onto the porch and slamming the door behind him. “It’s high time I showed you just how gilded the bars of your cage really are.”