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Chapter 9

Author: Nikita Slater

His dark eyes studied her intently as she spoke. Then he ignored her question and reached to touch her face. She jerked in her seat, but he just leaned forward, persisting. He brushed the hair off her forehead and tapped two fingers against the edge of her eyebrow. "How'd you get this?" he asked with a slight frown.

He dropped his hand to her shoulder, cupping her as though he had every right to touch her so casually. Her heart thumped in both anticipation and trepidation at his touch and she had to take several calming breaths. She wasn't used to being touched so much. If he kept this up she was likely to pass out at his feet from all the gasping and heart stuttering. She had to force her brain to keep up with his words. He wanted to know about her face? Ah… right, the scar.

"A car accident," she told him. "I have other scars."

He reached for her lap, picked up her hand and curved it so they could both clearly see the shiny scarred "H" on the back. She shuddered and shook her head. "Not that one, of course."

He nodded and let her hand drop. "How bad was the accident? When was it?" he demanded. He leaned back in his seat as their drinks were served. She immediately reached for hers, grateful for the respite.

Then she rolled her eyes, careful to conceal the movement under her lashes when she realized her companion had ordered her a straight up orange juice. Twenty-eight years old and she was being treated like a child. She wanted to storm at him and tell him with all of the haughty sophistication of her Tuesday "friends" that she wasn't an alcoholic as he'd no doubt assumed from their encounter by the pool. She rarely drank unless she was forced to go out to clubs with Ignacio or when she had a bad headache.

"You answer when I talk to you, nena," he prompted when she took too long.

She turned to look at him, staring at him, showing him some of the loathing she felt for men like him. She felt safer with Alonzo nearby. Surely, despite Ignacio's orders to keep this man happy, Alonzo wouldn't allow the Bolivian to harm her in public. Especially in this particular club surrounded by men loyal to her husband. "I don't like the way you talk to me, nino," she hissed back at him, insulting him in his own language.

A short bark of laughter burst from between his lips. Then he abruptly cut the laugh off as though he hadn't meant the sound to escape. He raised an eyebrow and stared at her as though she were insane. Well, she was. The faster he learned it, the faster he might leave her alone. He reached out, too quickly, and brushed the pale blond hair back from her face again. She flinched a little, but held steady when his touch barely registered against her skin. His dark eyes caressed her, warmth searing right through her, piercing the sleepy fog within her body.

She knew he wanted her to see things in his eyes. Knew it, because men like Reyes only let a person see what they wanted a person to see. They might let a man register the lick of anger right before death. Or a woman feel that warm rush of passion before they made love to her body. The rest of the time, their eyes were dead. Reyes wanted her to know the sizzling heat of lust as his eyes touched every part of her that he could see and every part he couldn't.

"There is the fire I saw that first time you turned those strange eyes on me, cari?o," he murmured, lightly running his fingers across her cheek, over her shoulder and down her arm. "I thought I had imagined the burst of hatred that had so intrigued me." His hand landed on her thigh and his fingers tightened. Not painful, but almost threatening. "But you will have to learn to answer immediately when I speak to you."

She looked down at his hand, eyes wide, mouth open in bewilderment. Then she lifted her face to search out her protection. Alonzo stood about ten or so feet back from the table, his own gaze burning holes in the booth and the couple. He was still as a statue, his bulging arms crossed in front of him, his chin down and his eyes narrowed in rage. He was definitely angry enough to tear Casey from the booth and walk her forcibly out of the club, but he didn't so much as twitch in their direction. He wasn't going to help her. Once more she was at the mercy of a powerful man, surrounded by people that wouldn't lift a finger to help.

Reyes tightened his grip on her thigh, forcing her attention back to him. Her eyes jumped to his. He didn't look angry as she thought he might. As Ignacio would be if he had to teach her how to behave. Instead, Reyes looked as though he truly wanted her to understand. "If I ask you a question, you answer me. When I tell you to do something, you do it. This will keep you safe in my world, understand? Repeat the words, Casey."

She frowned at him, her brow wrinkling, but she nodded slowly. "You tell me to do something, I do it… for safety. T-to keep me safe," she whispered her eyes widening and meeting his as the full impact hit her. She felt herself slip past the usual bullshit as she spoke, as he absorbed her words and slowly nodded as if to praise her. What did he mean by that exactly? Was he trying to keep her safe from him or safe in their terrifying mafia world of false friends and sinister business associates.

He moved his hand from her thigh up to her arm, wrapped it around her and then pulled her toward him. She brought her hand up to brace herself against his chest, but she was practically sitting in his lap now, his face almost touching hers when he spoke. She hardly dared to breath, though a tiny whimper escaped her throat when she felt the impossible steel of muscle threading his body. The promise of a human cage if she was ever unlucky enough to be captured by this man so intent on treating her as his prey. He brought his other hand up between them and took hold of her chin, tilting her face until her eyes met his once more.

"And Casey?" he said huskily against her lips.

"Yes?" she whispered.

"Never call me 'boy' again. In any language. I don't care when or where we are, I will bare that beautiful bottom and beat it until you can't sit down. Understand?" His deep, accented voice vibrated through her entire body, taking her breath away. The dark promise of erotic violence did something to her it shouldn't have, something she never would have expected.

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