I wondered if it was scaring him. When I asked him to stay with me last night, I wasn’t the only one who had been afraid. For one quick moment, like a burst of lightning, I saw fear in his eyes.

I made sure not to forget it.

Later, I ended up falling asleep on my bed, a science magazine I had snatched from downstairs open on my lap. It was dark out and my stomach was growling. I vaguely remembered Esteban coming into my room and telling me there was dinner for me, but I was so out of it he must have let me keep sleeping. I suppose I had been more exhausted by everything than I thought.

I glanced at my bedside clock. It was eleven p.m. I’d crashed for hours.

I groaned, trying to shake the grogginess out of my head. For a moment I thought about my parents, wondering where they were, if they were still being taken care of. The caretaker made them go to sleep at ten every night, but I knew sometimes my mom stayed up later, listening to her audiobooks.

My heart clenched at the thoughts and I had to willfully force them away, otherwise, I would weaken. There was no time for weakness anymore.

I got up slowly and changed out of my rumpled clothes, and into a camisole and boy shorts that had magically appeared in my dresser drawers. They were lilac and made of the finest silk, fitting my body like they were made for me. I used the washroom, splashed water onto my face and combed back my hair, then opened the door to the hall. To my surprise it opened, which meant I was still allowed to be free. I smiled to myself and quietly padded down the hall. The house was still, and I wondered if I could raid the kitchen for something to eat without waking anybody. Obviously there was a security system set up and cameras everywhere which relayed to a guard somewhere, but I didn’t care if they saw me getting a late night snack.

When I passed by Javier’s office, I saw his door was open a crack. The light inside was on, spilling faintly into the hall. I thought this odd since everything Javier did seemed to happen behind closed doors.

I paused, listening, and heard the clink of glass. Taking a deep breath, I gently pushed the door open.

There was a click and I saw Javier sitting behind his desk, a gun pointed straight at me.

I froze.

“Oh,” he said, his voice sounding odd, “it’s just you.”

He quickly put the gun away and picked up the glass beside him. Ice cubes rattled in smooth, brown liquid. An antique bar globe was open, a half-empty bottle of scotch taking prominence.

“Sorry,” I said breathlessly. My heart was still going a mile a minute from the image of the gun aimed at my head.

He nodded, not looking at me, and waved his glass at the room, scotch spilling over the rim. “Come in then, come into my office. Close the door.”

I did so and took two steps into the middle of the room. I pretended to admire how tastefully it was all decorated, but instead I was studying him. Was Javier … drunk?

“I see you’ve found your new clothes,” he said, his eyes feasting on my body, drinking me in like the booze at his lips. “You’re gorgeous.” He tossed the rest of his swill back and then wiped his hand across his mouth.

Yes. He was drunk.

I swallowed, feeling slightly nervous. I wasn’t sure what Javier was like when he was drunk. Bruno became bold and disgusting when he had too much, while all of Salvador’s vile actions were magnified. Javier was always so cool, calm and collected. To see him slightly unhinged threw me off.

That said, it was also intriguing. When one was drunk and the other sober, the sober one held all the cards and all the power.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

He tore his eyes from my body and poured himself another glass, nearly getting scotch on his elegant desk. “I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’re drunk.”

“I’m not,” he said as his brows furrowed. “I’m just having scotch.”

“Half a bottle of it.”

He looked back at the bottle absently. “Oh. I already went through a full one earlier. Men like me must know how to control their liquor.”

“Men like you,” I mused. I walked over to the desk, completely conscious of the fragile garments I was wearing. I placed my hands on the desk and leaned down, staring at him. “Tell me more about men like you.”

He must have caught the cynical tone of my voice because he looked at me sharply. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” I said carefully, wanting to push his buttons but needing to be cautious at the same time, “tell me why a man like you is sitting alone in his office, getting drunk. Don’t you have body parts to clean up in your torture chamber? Or is that the hired help’s job? You seem to get them to do all your dirty work.”

His mouth set firmly, and a muscle ticked along his jaw. “I don’t enjoy telling a lady to shut up. But I’m not above it.”

“And how do you do that?” I asked, unfazed and unwilling to break away from his simmering stare. “How would you shut me up?”

He ignored that. “Why are you here?” he asked in a measured voice.

“I was just curious as to how my captor was doing. You had such a busy morning, chopping off limbs and such.”

Suddenly he was out of his chair and leaning across the desk, his glass of scotch sloshing over. His face was inches from mine. I could see the flecks of brown in his amber irises. If I looked hard enough, I wondered if I could find that soul that he pretended he didn’t have.

“Do you think I enjoyed that?” he growled, grinding his teeth. The smell of alcohol and tobacco wafted toward me.

I didn’t move. “Yes. I think you did.”

“I did it for you.”

A smile tugged at my lips. “I think you also did it for you. I think you enjoyed giving Franco what he deserved.”

He frowned but didn’t back off. “So what if I did? He deserved everything he got. I told him that, I warned him what would happen if he ever touched you again. I never make empty threats.”

“Why did you care so much if he touched me?”

He blinked, swallowing hard. “Because you’re mine,” he said, as if this was common knowledge.

“Because you carved your name in my back?”

He looked at a loss for words. He shook his head briefly. “No.”

“Then why?”

He broke away and flopped down in his chair, staring off at a painting on the wall. “You should go back to bed.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” I told him. I walked around the desk so I was blocking his view. “If you think I’m yours, then you have to deal with me.”

“You’re becoming a pain in the ass.”

“But you like my ass so much.”

He glared at me. “What are you doing? What do you want from me?”

I went right up to him and hunched over so I was at eye level. He wasn’t going to escape me that easily. He was drunk and he was close to breaking.

“I want to know why you’re drunk.” I cocked my head. “Is it because of me?”

He looked away from my gaze and didn’t say anything.

“Is it?” I prodded, my voice rising. “Is it because of me?” I shoved at his shoulders. “Answer me, dammit!”

His eyes widened and I saw that fear in them again as he looked at me. “Yes,” he said, barely audible.

“What?”

“I said yes!” he bellowed, grabbing me roughly by my arms as he shot up out of his chair. “Yes, fucking yes, it’s all because of you!”

Even though his eyes were enraged, there was a vein pulsing along his throat, and his hold on my arms was tight, I wasn’t afraid.

But he was.

“Why?” I asked.

His brows knit together in confusion. “Because I broke a promise. I never break those. That’s not me.”

I stepped closer into him so my chest was nearly against his. His perplexed look deepened. “I don’t think you know yourself quite as well as you think you do.”

His voice lowered. “Is that right? Well, then you tell me who I am, since you know me so well,” he said tauntingly.

I rubbed my lips together, and I saw the way he focused on them hungrily. His breathing was heavy now, like he was fighting to keep himself together. I didn’t want him together. I wanted to undo him.

“You’re afraid,” I whispered.

“Afraid of what?” he asked incredulously.

“Afraid of me.”

He snorted in open disbelief. “Ridiculous. You?”

I looked at him more closely, until he was all I could see, and I was all he could see. “Yes. Me. You were afraid to stay with me last night, you’re afraid of what you’ll have to do at the end of the week, you’re afraid to see me as a human fucking being. Afraid, afraid, afraid!” I angrily jabbed my finger into his chest. “You’re nothing but a coward!”

His nostrils flared, and for one small breath I worried I made a mistake, that the beast would be unleashed and he would hurt me.

But a different beast was unleashed altogether.

He grabbed my face, his fingers pressing into my jaw, and kissed me so hard that it stole my breath. It was quick and violent and his lips were soft only for a second before he pulled away, breathing hard. He stared at me in thinly veiled shock, as if he couldn’t believe he had done that.

My lips tingled from his absence and I tried to regain my footing in our battle.

But I couldn’t think and there was no time.

His eyes sharpened with intensity, and suddenly he grabbed me again, this time one hand behind the back of my head and the other around my waist, jerking me toward him. My chest pressed up against his so tightly I could feel the rapid beating of his heart through his shirt and tie.

His lips engulfed mine, hungry, eager and wild. He kissed me deeply, thoroughly. Luxuriously wet. I felt like my feelings were sediment at the bottom of the sea, and he was shaking me loose, stirring me free, until it was swirling around both of us, clouding everything. I kissed him back, my pace easily matching his frenzied one, an appetite unleashed. Our tongues and lips melded like satin and sparks, and the more I got, the more I wanted.