Page 7 of Vicious Vows

Without even a bar of soap to wash up, all I can do is rinse off, and as I do, my mind has nowhere to turn. All I can think about is my captor, his motives, how strong his single arm was holding me down onto his lap. Oh, I felt that stiffy he had. He probably thought it was funny, making me squirm against him while he was hard. Maybe he imagined I was turned on by it too. And maybe I was, a little.

If I passed by him on the street, I’d flirt, maybe bat my eyelashes at him. Luke Santoro is the type of man who turns ladies’ heads when he walks into a room—large barrel chest, squared shoulders, and fuck, does he know how to dress well too. But I know who he is and what he does. I can’t let my physical attraction to him persuade me to forget how awful he is. He’s a horrible, evil man.

Men like him don’t deserve to breathe the same air as me, or my father, or Will, for that matter. Santoro is a murderer and a thief. He kills without mercy and thinks himself to be God. I refuse to let my body feel aroused by him in any way. I scrub the arousal away with my hands and hate myself for letting him get me worked up.

Done in the shower, I snatch a towel off the rod next to the shower and dry off. I slip my panties back on and don my T-shirt, then wrap my hair up in the towel and crawl into bed. Thelight is still on, but I feel safer this way. Things that go bump in the night are scarier when it’s dark out.

I’m exhausted from being emotional, and I pull the covers over my body. Dad has to be worried sick, and God only knows where Will is. When I watched him race away, I breathed a prayer for his safety but never thought of my own. Will is too pure for this world. I’m glad they didn't take him too.

My eyes barely shut before I’m dozing, dreaming up terrifying scenarios about what he’ll do to me if I don’t listen to him. I have a sex dream too, a really naughty one about how Luke dominates me into submission and spanks me until I come. When I wake up in the wee hours of the morning, it’s after a horrible nightmare that I’ve refused to comply with him and I’m standing over my father’s grave. It’s then that I realize I have to do what he wants, just like Dad said. If not, he really will kill Dad and Nathan.

First light comes streaming through the window. Every trace of precipitation is gone now, not a cloud in sight, and before I’m even fully awake, the door swings open. Luke enters carrying a tray of food. He sets it on the nightstand and straightens, backing away a few steps.

He’s calm, with a pleasant expression, though not a smile. He’s handsome like this, and I vaguely remember a dream I had where I slept with him. I think my desires played out while I was sleeping, dampening my panties. But other things played out in my sleep too, things I can’t shake.

My middle-of-the-night revelation is enough to convince me to do the right thing by my father, though it devastates me to say it out loud. So, I don’t offer any thoughts as I pluck a strip of bacon off the plate and eye the stack of pancakes, the pile of scrambledeggs, and the cup of orange juice. My stomach growls loudly, giving him satisfaction that I hate to give him.

“I didn’t know what sort of breakfast you like, so I had my cook make a little of everything.” Luke clasps his hands together and stands back. He’s wearing jeans and a polo, much more casual than his suit-and-tie look. He’s hotter than yesterday, maybe because his hair is devilishly mussed, standing on end, and his five o’clock shadow lingers unshaven on his face. Why am I so damn attracted to him?

“Mmm,” I grunt, chewing my bacon. At this point, it wouldn't have mattered what he brought. I’m starving, and I need to keep my strength up to be brave and think clearly. If there’s a chance of getting out of here, I can’t be weak with physical exhaustion.

“Have you given any more thought to my request?” I can see the outline of his chiseled pecs beneath his shirt, and I swallow hard and pry my eyes away from him. Why am I turned on by his being around me when I hate him? I’ve seen other good-looking guys before and they’ve never done this to me. Never made my groin burn the way he does.

“I have,” I tell him after carefully eating another bite of food. The pancakes look so tempting, making my mouth water. My stomach growls again, and I sit up all the way, making sure the blanket stays across my near-naked lower half. “I have a condition.”

Luke looks around, taking in the sight of the splintered chair. He doesn’t seem surprised or upset by it. Amused is more the expression on his face. “I’m listening,” he says as he looks back up at me.

“My father… he no longer works for you at all. No money laundering, no drug smuggling. And he gets to keep the money I siphoned.” I take another slice of bacon and watch Luke’s face tighten. He doesn’t like that I’m giving conditions or ultimatums. I don’t care. He should know I play hardball, given the fact that I’m here because I stole three-quarters of a million dollars from him. He shouldn’t expect me to take his orders lying down. I’m not one of his men, and I’m not afraid of him.

“You drive a hard bargain, Ms. DeSantis.”

“My name is Micah, idiot.” I shove the entire slice of bacon into my mouth and chew it. It’s cooked to perfection, and I lick the grease from my fingers as he stares down at me thoughtfully. He may have power over me, but he can’t control me. This is my choice, my decision to do what he has suggested. I could just as easily say no, but I’m not a fool. I understand the law of choices and consequences.

“Well, I’ll meet that condition, but I have one of my own.” His evil smirk should have given it away, but I’m still shocked when he says, “You’ll marry me, live in this house, bear my heir, and we’ll call it even.”

The food nearly chokes me as I suck in a breath in surprise. I cough and cover my mouth, gasping for air as he stands there watching me practically die. And all I can think is how I’m being forced into something even scarier than hacking and prison. Marry him? I’m twenty-five years old. I just got out of college with my degree, and I have a life to live. And I want to fall in love and have a family, not be forced to sleep with him, because that’s what an heir means. It means I have to fuck that man, put his seed inside my body and conceive with him. And fuck, is he hot, but I can’t do that. I’m not the “arranged marriage” type.

“I… I can’t,” I mutter and finally catch my breath. The bacon scrapes down my throat, and I chase it with orange juice. I can’t just marry him and let him use my body as his baby incubator, no matter how attractive he is or how much he turns me on. What would my mother think? What would Will think?

“Ah, Dad will be disappointed that the first time he gets to meet me will be as he takes his last breath.” Luke turns as if to leave, and I snap.

“Wait!” My hand shakes. Tears well up, and I whimper out, “Fine... I’ll do it.” He’s so confident and self-assured, and it’s all backed by violence and threats. He’ll really just slit my father’s throat if I don’t marry him? What sort of vicious monster am I dealing with?

“Good. I’ll order the dress.”

And then he’s gone, and I’m left alone feeling like my world is over. I have to find a way to get out of this before he makes me marry him. I have to, or every reason I have for living is gone, and if I die, something tells me Dad dies too. I can’t let that happen, but I just can’t marry that man.

Nathan will be ashamed of me, and Will might never speak to me again. What have I gotten myself into?

6

LUKE

The house is full of activity right now, people arriving and furniture being moved around. I'm setting up more space in my home office for Micah to work her magic on the brand-new system I’ve purchased, which is also being set up. She’ll have four screens and access to the fastest supercomputer on the market today. I spared no expense. She is, after all, my new secret weapon, and our agreement begins today.

“Sir, we’re ready for her,” Tony says, interrupting my thoughts as I stand peering into the office where men are hard at work installing the new hardware.

“I’ll bring her down, then.” I nod at him and glance up the hallway at the front door where Mr. DeSantis and his son, whose name I currently forget, walk into my home. They are escorted into my great room as I turn to head up the steps.

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