by Box Set
“Jorge sold you out, mi querida. Even if he knew where you were, he wouldn’t care.”
I look down at the scabbed skin near the base of my thumb. He doesn’t know where I am.
I need to find a way to get a hold of him.
“That’s a pretty good story,” I say with half the conviction it would require to sell it. My mind is elsewhere.
Galeno gestures me toward the oversized office chair in front of the desk. I follow, just to see what—if anything—he thinks he has on me. It takes everything to convince my spine to let me sit, but I fight not to show it, fisting my hands into white balls against the arms of the chair.
Galeno leans over me, typing quickly. The screen flashes dark, then a login screen appears, and he continues typing and clicking. Half of my view is obstructed by his arm and shoulder, but then, he steps back, and I see my face on his screen. I recognize the outfit, too. I’d work it the night I returned to Puerto Vallarta. Jorge had ruined it by the end of the night.
Jorge wouldn’t have done this. He wouldn’t have sold me to those men and have me walk right into it without a word.
“What is this?”
He taps the mouse and the screen scrolls down and the words oferta aceptada. Offer accepted.
I slam the laptop closed. “Nice try.”
I refuse to consider it.
And yet… my mind swims.
“How did Jorge acquire you?” Galeno takes a seat on the corner of his desk, clasping his hands over his knee.
When I don’t answer, he spins my chair toward him, leaning against both arms and leaning toward my face.
“Olvidado,” I mumble.
“Forgotten… I doubt it. He either bought you or stole you and then he passed you along to someone else. You were his commodity, but something obviously convinced him you were worth more in money. He sold you.”
“Liar.” I jump to the defense, but my heart doubles its rhythm in my chest.
Galeno’s face softens, and I swear he’s about to laugh. “Your entire business is lies. Telling them. Unraveling them. Tell me, what indications have I given you that I’m the liar?”
Nothing. Nothing except motive to do it. But then, he knows too much already.
“I thought as much,” he says, straightening. He reaches into his pocket and tosses my fake ID on the desk. “Carley,” he says in a mocking tone. “What’s your real name?
I flinch at the sound of Galeno’s voice, but it’s that question I hate most.
“Olvidado,” he says before I can even open my mouth.
“You’re the detective, figure it out.” I push myself up, and instantly regret it. Shock waves shoot down, and even though I scream at my legs to move toward the door, I stay hunched over Galeno’s desk.
“Why are you so loyal to a man who probably stole you, manipulated you into doing his dirty work, then sold you to the black market’s top bidding pervert?”
I glare at him. How dare he? And where did that little voice come from that whispered, he might be right. He has a point.
I want to believe he’s just fucking with me, but where’d he get the picture on his computer? How’d he know what I am? How did Serge know it?
Impossible. It’s all impossible from every angle.
My back spasms and I lose the battle to keep myself upright. I lean into the desk, palms against the solid wood. This is worse than the taser. I’d gladly take the taser again over this. Over the brutal attack coming from within my body. An attack I can’t shut out or begin to fight.
Galeno’s arm wraps around me, but I’m too overwhelmed with my own hell to fight him, too.
“You can let me help you, or I can carry you—those are your two choices.”
“I’m fine,” I grunt out.
“Really?” he asks, raising his eyebrows. “Is that why your entire body is shaking?”
I force myself to straighten and glare at him, daring him to move any further.
“You’re making yourself worse,” he scolds me, and I draw back from his tone. It isn’t particularly intimidating. Just odd. Somehow. I can’t quite pinpoint it. "I hate to break it to you, but you're human Sera. Humans aren't meant to live in isolation. Humans aren't meant to feel nothing. And we all have a breaking point. Your body is telling you you’ve hit one."
"I gave up being human a long time ago."
"You can think that. And tell yourself that all you want. Tell yourself that Jorge's lies—"
"Don't," I hiss.
"Don't what?” He takes a step back, shaking his head. “I stole you from your buyer before he could break you, you could be more appreciative.”
“Who was he?” I ask, still not buying the whole Jorge sold me thing. Not completely, but I could play along if he’d drop some info in the process.
“Serge Aliyev, purveyor of women. He has quite a collection that he keeps at several of his clubs around the world. He has a particular fondness for virgins, and has been known to pay top dollar only to spend one night breaking them.”
“Jorge said you wouldn’t crumble… Breaking you will be far more fun.”
I swallow. “As in…?”
“As in the lucky ones turn up dead.”
All of the sensation drains from my lower body, but Galeno catches me before I hit the floor—or bounce my face off the edge of his desk. “I’m trying to help.”
I swallow my response before it reaches my lips. I’m beyond help. I try to swallow, but my throat constricts.
What the hell is he doing to me?
"What makes you think I won't kill you in your sleep?" I ask, trying to find something, anything to get under his skin with the ease he gets under mine.
“Jorge didn’t order you to.”
Galeno carries me down the hallway and stops in front of his bedroom door.
“What are you—?” I wriggle in his grasp.
“I haven’t hurt you yet, Sera.” He somehow twists the knob without dropping me and kicks the door open. I expect him to dump me on the bed, but he carries me straight across the room and through a massive arched door. Inside, he flicks on a light with his elbow. Then, he sits me next to a massive Jacuzzi and twists a chrome handle over the spigot, releasing a roar of water.
“Why are you doing this?” I ask again, not even sure what “this” is. He flips the script on everything I say. Everything I’ve ever known.
“It will help your back, since there’s no convincing you to rest until it heals.”
He’s certainly adept at dancing perfectly around questions. I have to find a way to break his composure, but currently, I’m at a complete loss. “So you’re gonna play doctor as well as detective.”
“Hardly.”
After the tub fills, he turns off the faucet and nods me toward the shimmering pool of water. I remember soaking in my last bath before Jorge came in and ruined it. I could spend hours in a bath—if only the water would stay warm so long. But, despite his invitation to climb in, Galeno doesn’t move.
“You want to watch?” I ask.
“Does that bother you?” His narrowed eyes study me, but I’m determined not to give him any more of an advantage by rattling me.
I strip off my shirt, then my pajama pants, leaving them in a pile as I stepped into the hot water.
“I’ll be right back,” Galeno says.
I hope that means he’ll give me at least a good fifteen minutes of peace. “I wish you wouldn’t bother.”
He scoffs as he leaves me to sink into the curves of the tub. They hugged my body in just the right places, unlike my tub back home. Home. Where I’d left my boss and master.
Trying not to think about it, I scan the walled edges of the tub for the switch to the jets, but Galeno returns with a shopping bag before I find anything. Rolling up his sleeves, he pulls out a bottle of body wash and pours out a puddle into the palm of his hand.
“Nice collection,” I mumble when the floral scent hits my nose.
“Lucero was thrilled when I sent him t
o the store.”
I almost snort at the imagery. “You sent Creeper out for bubble bath?”
“Creeper?” One eyebrow lowers as his face twists in question.
I shrug. “He’s always creeping about.”
“He’s doing his job.” Galeno reaches into the water and lifts my leg, starting at my foot with the body wash.
Okay, I’m humoring him.
“I could bathe myself.”
“I’m sure,” he says, continuing to massage the later over my foot which is obviously clean already.
I glare at him until a slight ache builds behind my forehead, but he doesn’t even seem to look toward my face long enough to notice. Instead, he focuses all of his attention on the skin of my feet and legs. Everything about him is odd. Off somehow.
I’ve dealt with men in and out of cartels, but mostly on the inside. Leaders and lackeys. Drug dealers, arms dealers, pimps. None of them have ever puzzled me like Galeno. I’m certain it’s some game he’s playing, which only means he’s damn good at it.
“Is this how you get off?” I ask.
He makes a sound in his throat and I go weak for a moment. “Why? Are you interested in seeing that?”
"What?" My voice almost squeaks. Why did he have to turn everything around like that?
"Have you ever?" His eyes narrowed, crinkling the fine lines at their corners.
My jaw goes slack before I can reign it in. Holy fuck. He can’t mean… "Watched a man jerk off?"
"Sure." By his demeanor, one would think he is asking about something mundane like dinner. It’s his behavior that confuses me most of all. Even when making a blatant sexual remark he doesn’t get that lewd expression in his eyes I’m used to.
I scowl. "I don't make a habit of it."
"Definitely not a no. But you don't do more?"
God, I grunt, how can he throw me like this? It's not just his words. His actions. It's him.
"Blow jobs?" he asks.
I bite the inside of my cheek. Why does it matter? "Yes."
"All for nothing in return.”
All for answers.
His hands still. One rests on my knee, the other on the edge of the tub. “Have you ever wanted more?”
“No.” It was just another part of nature that Jorge had tortured out of me. Well, that and half the men he sent me to spy on were scum. They all put on an air of confidence, usually to the point of coming off cocky and arrogant. Galeno has that covered too, but it’s more understated than volatile.
This isn’t how my games normally go.
His eyes aren’t all over me, eating me alive, and yet he notices every detail.
Galeno moves to the head of the tub. Then, he rubs the foamy soap down each shoulder.
Asking him why he’s keeping me here hasn’t worked, so I try a different approach. “Huge house, Jacuzzi, expensive suits… What exactly do you do, Galeno?”
“Business,” he says.
I pull my arm away from his touch. "And what does your business peddle? Women? Drugs? Secrets?"
"Lollipops and rainbows," he replies right next to my ear.
I groan. “So the hard stuff, then?”
“Tell me your name,” he says, “and I’ll tell you what I do.”
"I've had a hundred names and they all mean the same, nothing. Olvidado."
"Enough with the forgotten bullshit. Tell me what you want to be called. Or I'm calling you Sera."
I stare down as the bubbles slide down my arms and into the hot water and chew on the inside of my cheek.
He kneels next to the tub, reaching his arm across me and rubbing the soap across my chest. His touch isn’t sexual, and yet it strangely is at the same time. He’s a man of contradictions and none of them make any sense. The smell of musk and cologne wafts off of him, strong and subtle like his touch, and it’s all driving me crazy.
Taking my breath.
I remember the first time I met Gabe. He was domineering. Grabby hands. Cologne that smelled fine in the bottle and rancid on his skin. Nothing could cover the smell of his rotting soul. He didn’t do long baths or smooth talk. Anything he did or said carried the sole intention of making him feel more powerful.
He was intolerable, but I specialized in dealing with intolerable men.
Galeno, however, took that to a whole new level. This is the first time someone’s touch has ever focused on me. The only time it’s ever been intended to take the pain away.
At least that’s what he wants me to think. And it’s working. I’d planned to just ride this out and humor him until he was pliable and unsuspecting, but as his fingers move up my leg in delicate motions. I seem to be the one losing focus.
Every sensation unwinds my body in a way I can’t explain, but with my legs tingling it feels weird.
Maybe good.
Damn mindfuck.
“Galeno,” I jerk my leg and undo any work the water has done to relax my back. When the spasm passes, I sink into the water, crossing my arms over my chest. Fine, he can keep going, but I’m zoning out.
Only, I can’t find my white noise fast enough. The higher his hands move, the harder I find it to control my breathing.
What am I doing?
I never let things go this far. But I’m normally on a mission. I normally know my goals. I normally know what Jorge will be wanting and that he’ll be waiting when the mission is complete.
I have none of that now.
And if Galeno’s right…
No, he’s a liar. And in trying to prove he can’t get to me, I find my body doing something very different.
His hand presses between my legs, rubbing my thigh. He hasn’t even touched my cunt, but I’m throbbing there. I grab the collar of his shirt, pulling him down to face me. “What are you trying to do?”
“Nothing.” But his grin says otherwise.
“Bull shit.”
“How did Jorge win your loyalty? Breaking you down until you craved the smallest hint of approval from him? Making you believe he was your only lifeline to the world?”
“Is that so different from what you’re doing?” I squeeze my legs tighter together, as if that will stave off the fire that’s already burning.
7
“Is it?" he asks, his right eyebrow ticking up for an instant. I don't want to acknowledge the feeling in the pit of my stomach his tiny motions create.
I stare into his eyes, still trying to unravel something about him. He’s different from any man I’ve been sent to seduce or break. Different than Jorge by far. But I still can't trust him. I still don't understand him.
"Why are you keeping me here?" I try again. Really, I want to break the hold he has over me and I can’t think of anything else to say.
"Because you intrigue me…" he pauses, “I want you.”
"You want a zorra?"
"No," he says, his face contorting almost as if I've offended him. "I don't need one."
At some point while studying him and his answer, I must've relaxed my thighs, because suddenly I feel him touching me again. My reaction sends a wave of water over the side of the tub, soaking the front of his clothes. With eyes wide, I brace for his response. He merely looks down, then lifts those intense brown eyes up to me again without a hint of anger. No tightness at the corner of his eyes. His forehead remains relaxed. If anything, one edge of his lips curls upward slightly in amusement.
Fuck me.
"I'd love to," he says against my ear, half whisper, half grated rumble that wraps around my spine.
Mouth shut. I scold myself, but it's too late as his finger slips into my entrance and I gasp. I grab his bicep, my drenched fingers digging into the white material covering his torso and the top portion his arm. I don't even know if I'm trying to stop him.
"Do you want to come?" he asks in that same voice.
What will he make of my answer? What the hell is my answer?
"Dios."
He braces one hand on the tub behind my head, leaning over me. I'm engulfed in
his scent. That same damn scent that wafted over me each time the nightmares of my delirium faded.
"Why are you doing this?" My voice quivers with each word.
"I told you," he sounds almost as breathless as me. "I want you to be mine."
"Why?"
"To set you free."
I blink. Free? Death? That's the only freedom I've ever considered. I don't know any other kind. None that exists in this life. "By keeping me locked up in your house?"
Galeno chuckles. "You're wandering around quite freely for someone who describes herself as 'locked up'. Your strongest shackles are self-imposed."
"You expect me to believe I'm free to walk out of this house at any time? And do what? Wait for your men or Jorge or some other freak to come after me? Jorge would never take me back now."
"Jorge dropped off the map before your plane landed in Toronto, dulzura."
"How do you know?"
"I'm good at my job. And to answer your earlier question, yes, you are free to walk out as soon as you're healthy enough.”
As the tension builds in my core, I'm sure my nails are tearing through the flesh of his arm. "Why?" I ask again, but I can barely breath. I can't hold on any longer, but I fully expect him to stop. That's how this torture is played out. The promise of whatever comes next only to be left with pain and frustration of what will never come.
"Ask me again when you're willing to believe my answer."
I shake my head. That's not good enough. I can't. I never will. When your whole life's one huge series of mind-fucks how can you ever believe an answer fully?
His fingers strike something inside me and I scream, likely drenching him again. Control yourself. But then, his lips press against the vein in my neck. Such a gentle touch.
Why am I letting him be in control?
I release his arm, and grab a fist full of his hair, pulling his mouth to mine and taking it with every greedy fiber of my being. But that was a bad idea too, I realize as his taste joins his smell in overtaking me.
"Estás hermosa, Serafina," he groans against my lips. You’re beautiful.
"Te voy a matar." I'm going to kill you.
"Sí, pero no esta noche." Yes, but not tonight.
