She turned slightly to meet his gaze. “You set the parameters when you kidnapped me and stole my virginity. Don’t expect me to be happy or cooperative.” He sighed a second before his mouth claimed hers in a deep kiss. Mia tried to keep herself from responding, but the persistent stroking of his tongue and the gentle way his lips molded hers made it difficult. As soon as her mouth softened, he broke contact.
Their foreheads touched for a second. “You will be happy tonight, Mia. You’re going to come for me, no matter how much you try to fight me.” A small smile quirked his lips upward. “And yourself.”
She wanted to deny his words but settled for clamping her lips together and glaring at him until he straightened and walked away. To her mortification, she was sure he was right. Shane knew enough about a woman to eventually get the response he wanted. It wasn’t just his skills, though. She had to contend with her own unwanted physical attraction to the man. If he hadn’t been trying to dominate her last night to prove a point, she might have ended up an enthusiastic participant.
The thought turned her stomach, and she shoved away the remains of her breakfast. The realization was appalling, but she’d rather be honest with herself than pretend there was no attraction and that he had no power over her. Forcing herself to remain oblivious would only make the situation harder for her when the truth eventually blindsided her. Better to know and acknowledge it now so she could try to formulate a plan to counter his control over her.
That didn’t mean she was going to let him wield that power with impunity. If he expected her to be a simpering mess that eagerly graced his bed, he really was out of his mind. Mia would not stop fighting him, even if she lost every single time.
4
Mia had spent the day exploring his house, memorizing the layout, and searching for weaknesses. She tried not to let her lack of results discourage her when she returned to her suite early in the evening. Tomorrow, she would venture onto the grounds to evaluate her odds of escape.
Shane hadn’t returned yet. Or if he had, he hadn’t made it known to her. Mia enjoyed the reprieve from him, but she didn’t have the illusion she had ever been alone today. There was always a goon hovering on the periphery of her vision, and she had identified most of the cameras in each room. There was no way to deactivate them—at least, with her limited knowledge of electronics—but she had thought it would be better to know where they were.
She’d been wrong. The sheer number of cameras—and there were likely a lot more she hadn’t been able to identify—had weighed on her almost as heavily as if Shane had attached a length of chain and an old-fashioned iron ball to her ankle. There was nowhere she could go without eyes on her.
Except this room, if she could believe Shane. Did she? Mia didn’t know. He didn’t seem like he had lied to her. He was a brutal man, but he seemed to be honest in his dealings with her. She didn’t know whether to laugh or be slightly soothed. Either way, she decided to believe him and at least pretend like her suite was the one smidgeon of privacy in this oasis of watchers.
A tap on her door before it opened was her only warning before the older woman in a black dress and white apron entered the room. She was about as wide as she was tall, with an unfriendly scowl on her face as she dropped the tray she held on a table with a chair near it. “Mr. O’Mara ordered you a tray and to tell you he’ll be with you later.”
“Oh, goodie.” She curled her lip at the maid.
The woman narrowed her eyes. “Disrespectful little harlot. You aren’t good enough to lick his shoes, let alone grace his bed.”
Mia rolled her eyes. “He’s a bit young for you, isn’t he, Fifi?”
The older woman swelled with anger, looking a bit like a toad. “I can trace my ancestry back to Cortez.”
“That’s working out nicely for you, I see.” Mia really had no issue with the older woman, but the maid had started off being bitchy. “Why don’t you take yourself elsewhere, Fifi, so I can eat?” She eyed the food doubtfully. “Wait, did you make it?”
The little woman drew herself up to what must be her most impressive height, which was maybe four-foot-ten. “I am not a cook.” She sounded outraged by the idea.
“That narrows down the chances of it being poisoned, then.” Mia strolled over to the tray, lifting the salver to nod appreciatively. “You may leave, Fifi.”
“I am Selena Hernanda-Fuendo, descended from an Aztec princess and Cortez—”
“As you said. You’re still dismissed, your highness.” Mia waved her toward the door, maintaining an aloof air until the older woman exited with a slam. Then she sagged. As she sat at the chair and lifted a fork to taste the tender roasted vegetables surrounding the salmon, she replayed the encounter with the maid in her mind.
The little woman had been determined to hate and belittle her before Mia even opened her mouth. Perhaps she’d ask Shane about Selena’s open hostility if she was stuck here long enough to care or be subjected to the other woman’s presence for long.
She finished her dinner alone and flipped on the television. The only thing available was a Roku box, so she had no access to current events. With a sigh of disgust, she put on an episode of “Supernatural” for background noise while chewing her lip to ribbons as she watched the clock.
Anxiety built in her as the time passed. When the digital numbers hit ten p.m., she started to hope he wouldn’t come to her tonight. Maybe his mafia business would keep him working late into the night. Maybe he’d already grown bored with her and was currently screwing two bald hookers and their hermaphrodite pimp. That thought made her giggle, and she quickly smothered the sound, as though any indication of amusement would concede a point in their war of attrition.
By ten-thirty, the tension had built inside her to the point where she could scream. It was almost a relief to have her door open, just to end the anxiousness of when or if he would come that night. That short burst of release was quick-lived as her apprehension ratcheted up to a new level when he walked across the room to join her where she had curled up on a loveseat.
Dear god, he made her mouth water, though she hated the reaction. Fresh from the shower, his dark hair gleamed where the light touched the moist strands. He wore a black robe, slung on carelessly, and the silk molded to his still-damp body. Her heart fluttered—and not entirely with fear—when he ran his fingers through her ponytail, making her scalp tingle at the tender gesture.
“I’m sorry I’m late. It was a long day.”
She remained mute, incapable of pulling off snarky right then, and not confident with her ability to appear immune or remote, either. Mia swallowed thickly when he brought her hand to his mouth to kiss the palm. No, that was not about the most amazing thing she’d ever felt.
Schooling her expression into one of disdain, she glared at him as he licked her hand. “I washed after dinner, but I imagine there are leftovers if you’re still hungry.”
His lips twitched. “Baby girl, you have the smartest mouth of any woman I’ve ever had.”
The way he phrased that filled her with confusion. On the one hand, she hated to be lumped in with his other women. She wasn’t here by choice, and she wasn’t one in his eager harem. She also hated a small surge of jealousy at the idea. What was wrong with her?
