Blood Ties (Dinero de Sangre #2) - Lana Sky Page 0,4

tears as I force a nod.

But I won’t let him hurt me without a parting shot in return. Prying my dry lips apart, I croak, “I’ll be ready for every last one of them. Jaguar seems like he might be promising in that aspect at least.”

His eyes narrow, but he turns away before I can decipher what the reaction might mean. Instead, I shift my focus to examining the room in full, becoming more awed—and terrified—with every observation I make.

It’s massive, everything gleaming with a shiny new aura that makes me suspect it’s an addition that he had built specifically for this purpose.

To “bathe” together in torturous harmony.

At the back of my mind, that suspicion doesn’t mesh with the fact that he plans on selling me by the beginning of next week. Why go through such trouble?

But this man is a mystery I don’t have the energy to solve. I’m too damn tired to.

So rather than think, I stare and make a note of every alarming detail of this space. There is an enclosed walk-in shower large enough to constitute an adjacent room, lined with black marble and complete with large, built-in benches on either side. A computerized screen affixed near the entrance presumably controls the spray.

Across from it is an oval-shaped pristine tub, large enough to fit two people—and more. The sleek silver fixtures give it a more clinical design than the other bathroom. A look that implies it could be used for soaking, as well as the perfect vessel for a madman to boil his kidnapped lover alive just for the hell of it.

The thought makes my breath catch in my chest, though I’m not sure which detail unnerves me more. The fact of him actually doing that to me, or that I referred to myself as his lover.

I’m not.

The appraising look he sends my way next makes that more than crystal clear—I am his trophy. A toy. A minor inconvenience.

“Get in.” He nods to the shower stall and reaches for his slacks, intending to remove them. I look away, my cheeks flaming.

Not that I have the right to any shred of modesty. I’ve already seen and experienced nearly every inch of him. What little I haven’t lingers in my mind, and I can’t resist sneaking another glance at it as he marches past me and fiddles with the shower’s electronic screen, his ass bare.

That mark on his chest undermines everything I’ve come to believe about Domino Valenciaga—before the kidnapping, at least. More than anything he’s said or done, the sight of that scarlet, surgical scar proves that the man I knew was a well-crafted lie.

The real man is a stranger. Domino isn’t even his name.

He is Navid Inglecias, brother of Pia, the girl who was once my best friend—until she went missing—a disappearance Domino insists was because of my father. That’s why he’s done all of this, after all, betrayed us and killed my parents.

He thinks Roy Pavalos murdered his sister.

And that I know why.

Chapter Two

“I said get in.”

I snap to awareness at his hostile tone, but he doesn’t seem inclined to follow up with violence. Yet. He’s already gotten the water going and steps beneath the spray first.

Numbly, I set aside the clothing I procured for myself on a nearby row of pristine gray countertops. When I face him again, I’m still wrapped only in a sheet. As the seconds tick by, I take my time fiddling with the twisted fabric to study him in full.

Based on Jaguar’s demand, I have until Tuesday. On its face, I’m not even sure what that date symbolizes, or what I plan to do in the meantime. It’s not like I have a wealth of options—I could either escape, kill Domino outright, or convince him not to sell me. The sad part? I’m not sure which of those aims is even remotely achievable.

I already tried the first plan to no avail.

Killing him is a far more tempting option.

But seduction… It’s the only method I’ve had even a modicum of success attempting—though, I assume that depends on what one might determine as success. I’ve gotten him to listen to me, anyway, and let his guard down long enough to sleep in the same bed.

Twice.

That must mean something.

“Don’t make me tell you a third time.” His voice, aided by the roar of rushing water, comes as a low rasp I know better than to challenge. Without fanfare, I yank the sheet away from my body and stagger toward him, wincing as I