“Isla del Rey?” the man asks, taking the phone gingerly, like it’s a ticking time bomb. “Your neighbor?”
“Yes,” I answer honestly, although Isla technically lives well over a mile away. “I don’t know why she’s calling right now. We’re not really friends.”
He glances back at his team. The guy shrugs, and the girl rolls her eyes for the millionth time.
“They probably heard the gunshots. I told y’all not to fuck around with that. Give her the phone, Javier, or the del Reys will call the police.”
Javier. I grab onto that crumb of information desperately, my very first clue. He hesitates, then outstretches the phone my way. I go to grab it, but he pulls it back at the last second. Only a few more rings, and it’ll go to voicemail. They’re right. I doubt Isla heard any gunshots from up in her own mansion, the one that makes my home look like a dollhouse, but her guards probably heard something. If I don’t pick up, they’ll either come over to see for themselves, or just call the police.
“No bullshit,” Javier says, holding up his weapon demonstratively. I nod. As if I hadn’t gotten the picture already. I’m not an idiot. He hands over the phone, and I tap the green button quickly to accept the call before it’s too late.
“Isla?” I say, trying to control the quake in my voice. Javier mouths something at me. Speaker. I switch the call over to speaker mode and take a deep breath. “What’s up?”
“What’s going on over there?” Isla asks, her voice impossibly shriller than usual. “We heard gunshots. Are you okay?”
I close my eyes and scramble for a lie. I feel the sofa shift slightly, and a new pressure against my temple. My eyes snap open. Javier is sitting beside me again, but this time, it’s not his lips that are way too close to my face.
“Um, yeah,” I say, biting my lip. “Shit, sorry. I was… I was messing around with some fireworks left over from my Fourth of July party. I have some people over, we’ve been partying, I wasn’t really thinking. I’m so sorry to have woken you, we’ll keep it down now.”
I can almost hear the tired sigh over the phone. Isla and her husband are barely older than me, but they’re constantly complaining about my “youthful” ways.
“Okay,” she says at last, yawning a little. “Please try to keep it down, Selina, it’s the crack of dawn. Some of us are trying to sleep. Maybe it’s time to call it a night and go to bed, ‘kay honey?”
“You’re right,” I say, letting myself feel a little bitter at her condescension even with a gun in my face. “Again, so sorry. Good night, Isla.”
She hangs up before I even finish my sentence. I exhale loudly as Javier lowers his weapon. That bitch really thinks she’s so much better than me? I know she’s fucking their driver, right under her husband’s nose, too. Of course, neighborhood gossip is the least of my problems right now.
Javier takes my phone back and stands again, going to confer with his team in hushed tones across the sitting room. I shift uncomfortably, pulling my robe tighter around my half-naked body.
“So?” I ask, after trying and failing to eavesdrop on their murmurs for a few minutes. “What now?”
The details of my new life are laid out pretty clearly: I’m to be a pawn, signing big checks when I’m needed, and staying quiet and out of the way when I’m not. Meanwhile, these thugs will be living in my home, keeping me captive under my own roof. And should I go getting any ideas of defying them, much less escaping, Kate and the guards will be hurt, or worse. My skin crawls at the thought of sharing my family home with these people, but it’s not like there’s much I can do about it at this point. The sun is beginning to rise when they finally finish unpacking laptops and an unnecessary amount of weapons in what used to be Dad’s study and decide to call it a night, divvying up bedrooms. At least they let me keep the master, I suppose. Small favors.
“Wait,” I say quickly, when Javier approaches the second door on the left, across from what was once my childhood bedroom.
Javier pauses, quirking an eyebrow at my reaction. He can’t go in there. No one’s lived in there for years. Not since…
“What?” Javier asks, annoyance in his voice.
“Um,” I begin, but I can’t bring myself to say it. Can’t bring myself to beg my captor to stay away from my dead brother’s bedroom. “Um, can I have my phone back?”
Javier just gives me an exasperated look. He must think I’m nothing more than a privileged idiot. I’ll probably never see a phone again.
“Go back to bed, Selina,” is all he says out loud. “Get some rest. You must be exhausted.”
I nod mutely and back away toward my own suite. Inside, I quickly click the lock shut. I know it’s a placebo at best, a facade of safety that could easily be shot through with one of the dozen guns suddenly in my home, but it does make me feel somewhat better to have at least one wall between myself and my sudden captors.
I let my robe fall to the floor and crawl back into bed. The sheets are cold and comfortless, but I pull them tightly around myself anyway.
Twenty-four hours ago, my life was normal. Safe. I was probably still asleep, with nothing much to do, certainly nothing to worry about. Now everything has been turned upside-down, so fast I feel more than a little shell-shocked. Kate, Eddie, and Alan are in danger, all because of their connection to me. The last thing I have left that even resembles family, and with one ill move on my part they’ll be gone. I’ve known Kate my whole life. I hope we haven’t said our final words to one another.
In their stead is Javier, some sort of tattooed thug and his scary leather entourage. My life is now in their hands, indefinitely. I’m held hostage by their weapons and their threats of violence, but mostly, by my own weakness. I still can’t believe how fast I caved in to their demands, even in these impossible circumstances. It makes me loathe myself more than I have in a long time.
Javier was right, the trauma of the night’s events has totally exhausted me. Even as my mind swarms with everything that is irrevocably changed, my eyes flutter closed, and I drift off into restless sleep before I can even start my breathwork. The last image that flits through my head before I reach unconsciousness is that of Javier’s cold, calculating, beautiful eyes, and I hate myself for that, too.
I can’t sleep, pumped up on adrenaline after a more than successful night. I can’t believe we pulled this off. Of course, there are still a million things that could go wrong, as Miel is happy to remind me, but we made it this far. We’re in the Palacios mansion, with the pretty little heiress herself under our thumb. It feels ridiculous to be in bed after all that, with so much left to do, but my people deserved a break after a job well done.
This California King is easily the most comfortable thing I’ve ever lain in, and the bedroom is elegant and clean, but the place still feels cold and uninviting, completely lacking personality. I guess it makes sense, as the room probably hasn’t been inhabited in years, if ever, but it makes me feel even more out of place than I already do in this palace.
I breathe deep and remind myself that I own this palace now. This is my new dominion, everything I worked my ass off for. I deserve to be here. I deserve to feel at home here, to feel like the king of my own castle here. I own this mansion, own the sprawling estate around it, own the woman in the bedroom right down the hall.
This isn’t about her. This is about me, and my people, and the plans I have for us all. It’s not about Selina Palacios, with her wild hair, big brown eyes, and luscious lips. It’s not about the way my cock hardens painfully at the mere thought of her. I groan and wrap my fist around said cock, giving in to the lust I’ve been trying so hard to fight. I deserve a release, I tell myself. Just this once.
I stroke myself as images of her face swarm my mind, of the way her body tenses fearfully when I move too close to her, of the way her she sets her jaw so bravely even with a gun to her head. She’s delicate, but not as fragile as I’d expected. Still, I will break her. I don’t have a choice.
When I come,
I try to convince myself I’m getting off on the power, the money, on the high of a job well done. I try to pretend it’s anything but her face moving through my mind as my cock pulses in ecstasy, an untamable groan escaping my lips as warm seed spills over silk sheets. The thought of making our captive princess wash my cum from these sheets threatens to make me hard again, before my first orgasm has even ended. Fuck. I need to get my head on straight.
I force myself into a cold shower, then walk back downstairs to the office. I’m too jacked up to sleep, and I don’t trust myself to lie uselessly in bed with nothing but my own thoughts. Not when there’s still so much work to be done.
By the time anyone else stirs, I’m sitting on a bar stool in the enormous kitchen, nursing my fourth cup of coffee. I didn’t think to have Hernando set up our secure WiFi system before he crashed last night, so I’ve just been reviewing our financial plans for the near future. When Selina wakes, I’ll have to get her to share all her bank account information so I can confirm the estimated numbers we’ve been working with.
I hear a rustling at the kitchen door and glance up. Selina hovers in the doorway, wearing jeans that fit her the way only expensive, tailored jeans can, and a silky green top. Her hair is a little damp, and while her face is still mostly bare, I can tell she’s wearing mascara, maybe a little eyeliner. Who did she do that for?
“Good morning, princesa,” I say with more than a hint of mockery, shutting my laptop discreetly. No need to hand over every card in our deck right off the bat. “Sleep well?”
“About as well as one can in a home full of armed, blackmailing strangers,” the girl says, with a bite of her own I can’t help but smile at. It’s always more fun when they have a little fight in them. “Not to mention the three hostages whose lives are now in my hands.”
“Great,” I say, ignoring her jabs. “You can come on in, you know. Get some coffee.”
She hesitates another beat but gives in and steps closer. It takes her a second to locate the cabinet with the mugs, making me wonder if she’s ever even been in the kitchen before. I know she’s been rich her whole life, but how pampered is this girl? I don’t offer any assistance, watching silently as she rummages around in the fridge for a minute, before giving up and sipping her black coffee in silence, leaning against the counter as far from me as she can get without technically exiting the room.
“Just so you know, your housekeeper will not be returning to her post, even if you cooperate,” I tell her. “You’ll have to figure out how to fend for yourself now.”
“I know how to take care of myself,” Selina snaps, but I can see a little heat rising to her cheeks.
“Great,” I say, opening my laptop again and pulling up a new screen. I can’t help but play with her, my brand new toy. “You can help me figure some stuff out, then. Tell me about the grounds. Who maintains them?”
“Um,” Selina takes a long sip of coffee, then another. “Um, I don’t know. Kate handled that. Or maybe it was Eddie.”
“What about grocery delivery?” I ask.
She runs a hand through her hair nervously, shaking out the long, damp locks. “I don’t know that either.”
I hide a self-satisfied smirk behind a sip of my own coffee. Beautiful, wealthy, and absolutely useless. Of course, I already know the answers to all these questions. I know everything there is to know about this place, and everything about Selina Palacios.
“Well, like I said, your people won’t be returning,” I say, busying myself on the laptop. “I’ll have the guys handle the grounds, but the house is up to you now. Laundry, cooking, general upkeep and the such.”
“I’m not your maid,” Selina says coldly, setting her coffee mug down. “This is my house.”
I look up at her with an equally cold smile. Pretty, naive little thing. She won’t stay that way for long, not if I have anything to say about it.
“Maybe on paper,” I tell her, keeping my voice low and serious. “But in reality, this is my house now, and you’re whatever I want you to be. There are worse fates than being asked to mop a floor or cook a meal. Now get out of my way before I think of one.”
Her face goes pale, but she manages to keep her jaw set and her eyes narrowed at me. She holds my gaze angrily for one more moment, then grabs her coffee and storms out of the kitchen.
I don’t know what to do with myself. All my electronics have been confiscated, as if I’m somehow going to call 911 from my Kindle. On a normal day, if I was this bored, I’d go out for brunch, or on a shopping spree, or hit up a club downtown. Of course, none of that is exactly an option right now. And I’m certainly not going to pick up a vacuum and take up homemaking, as Javier basically ordered me to. I’m not some kind of reverse, riches-to-rags Cinderella.
I go down to the lounge and click on the TV. Nothing, just a moment of static and then an error message saying that there’s no signal. What the hell? I can’t even binge some Netflix in my sudden captivity? How am I supposed to distract myself from the horrors of my new life? Or is that the point, to drive me to the breaking point by leaving me alone with my thoughts?
“Sorry.” A deep voice startles me, making me drop the remote. I turn and see one of Javier’s men in the doorway, the one who was holding a gun to Kate’s head last night. Hector? Harold? Hernando? He’s built, like all of them, with a buzzcut that looks more military than mafia. “We took down your WiFi and set up our own secure network. I can get your TV back online later today. With Vega’s approval, of course.”
Vega. That must be what Javier’s men call him. I guess only the girlfriend gets first name privileges.
“Cool?” Hernando asks, shifting on his feet somewhat uncomfortably. I say nothing for a moment. I hate the way they all talk to me so casually, like I’m an awkward new roommate instead of their literal hostage. Last night, it was nothing but cold glares and threats. Today, with the guns and leather jackets out of sight, suddenly we’re all best friends.
“Cool,” I say, in the chilliest voice I can muster while secretly trying not to piss my pants in fear. Hernando just nods and walks away. He scares me. They all do. As soon as his footsteps fade, I spring up and flee back to my bedroom, locking the door behind myself.
I’m flipping through a three-year-old Cosmo I found in the back of my closet when there’s a light tap on the door. Whoever it is tries the knob after a second, but it’s locked.
“Selina?” It’s the girl. She’s pretending to be friendly now, but she was the most obviously hostile toward me last night. Is she really Javier’s girlfriend? They act closer than the others, but she doesn’t seem the type to put up with a boyfriend ogling other girls so obviously. My cheeks heat a little at the memory of Vega’s eyes raking over me last night.
I hesitate for a moment, then toss the magazine aside and cross the room. I click the locks open as loudly as I can and make a show of opening the door just a sliver.
“What do y’all want from me now?” I snap.
“You can call me Miel,” she invites with a fake smile, and despite the razor-sharp eyeliner and super-toned arms, the grin makes her look like a back-stabbing mean girl straight out of a teen movie. I shrug at her wordlessly. I wish she’d just shove the act back up her ass and be straight with me. “Vega wants to know about lunch,” she goes on, an edge in the request that makes it more of an order. Javier—Vega—wants me to serve my captors lunch? Is this some kind of twisted riches-to-rags fantasy he’s forcing me to play out? Does he get off on turning his prize heiress into his own personal servant?
“Tell Vega he can order a damn pizza,” I say. “And no, I don’t know what the number is for that, either.”
I go to slam the door but Miel grabs it and stops me easily. Damn, she’s even stronger than she looks.
“Listen,” she says in a low voice, and this time I can hear the unspoken ‘bitch’ at the end. “We don’t owe you anything. Vega is being nice to you by letting you keep up this pretense of your old life at all. Don’t test his patien
ce.”
I snort, a humorless sound. “Are you shitting me? He’s being nice to me by essentially kidnapping me, making me pay my own ransom, and then asking me to be his maid, too? Yeah, okay.”
“Fresa,” Miel hisses, and I don’t have to speak Spanish to get the mockery in her voice. “You got to live your perfect little paradise life for these last, what, twenty-five years? Meanwhile, we were working our asses off every second of every goddamn day just trying to get a taste of what was handed to you. Well, we did it, and now your perfect life is ours. It won’t kill you to suck it up and make a fucking sandwich.”
I almost choke on another fake-laugh. Yeah, my perfect life. If only money worked the way people like her think it does, as a shield to protect you from all pain. Wouldn’t that be nice?
“Like I said, Miel.” I hit her name like I’m spitting out a real four-letter-word, mimicking her pronunciation. Mee-elle. “Y’all can order a fucking pizza.”
Selina is being difficult. I guess that shouldn’t have come as much of a surprise, given her reputation. If anything, the challenge excites me more than it should. But I don’t have time to play games with my—our—princess. I know I can’t make her break overnight, but I need her to at least bend for me. This would be easier if she had family or loved ones, instead of just employees she feels loyal to. That kind of leverage always works wonders.
But no, we’ll have to work with what we’ve got. I convince Miel not to shiv our snarky blank check on the spot, and instead, we let her play her little game solo. We leave her alone to sulk in her bedroom, trapped in a cage of her own making. Sooner or later she’ll realize that these moves she makes aren’t against me, they’re against herself.
While I wait Selina out, Hernando finishes setting up cameras along the halls and in the shared spaces. For safety reasons, of course. Late that first night, I watch Selina tiptoe down the stairs and try the kitchen door. It won’t budge, of course. I watch her try again, then she sees the padlock I installed myself. It’s time she learns. The rules I give her aren’t part of any game, they’re her life now. She either eats my way, or she doesn’t at all. Her back is to the camera, but I see her slender shoulders fall. When she turns, the blinking red light must catch her eye. She looks up directly into the lens, and her eyes go big. Like a deer in headlights, she’s paralyzed for a moment, and watching her on the screen, I am too. Transfixed, I watch her lithe body pick up the pace as she follows the trail of cameras all the way back to her room, frown twisting deeper with each one. She flashes her middle finger pettily at the camera directly in front of her bedroom door, then retreats back into hiding, and my body sags back into the lush leather chair.
Caged: The Complete Trilogy Page 2
