Page 6 of Vicious Vows

“I have nothing to say to you. You are a piece of trash, Santoro. You can’t just walk into my father’s business and bully him into laundering your money and handing out your drugs. He could go to prison for that if the cops find out.” Her fingers work feverishly, twirling her hair around and around until she ties it in a knot on top of her head. She’s even prettier with the loosely dangling strands of black hair framing her face like that and her neck exposed. My teeth itch to sink into her skin.

“I have that all covered, Ms. DeSantis. Do you think I can’t protect my assets?” I know she doesn’t doubt me at all. That’s fear in her eyes, fear of what I’m capable of doing to her. And it’s arousing to see her tremble and try to hide it.

“My father isn’t your property.” Her scowl deepens, and I chuckle. She’s so feisty, it’s turning me on. Not too many people would have this much fight in them when faced with someone like me. Kudos to this little princess for having more balls than my own men.

“I said, asset, not object.” I cross one leg over the other and wait for her reply, which comes instantly, in a very tart and hostile tone. There’s a storm brewing in her expression, and when she unleashes, I’m mildly surprised by her intellect.

“By definition of the word ‘asset’, you are calling my father an object. Now, if you don’t mind. I’d like to go make sure he’s okay. He’s old and not able to care for himself very well anymore.”

Micah stands and jams her feet into the tennis shoes on the floor beside the bed, and I watch calmly as she walks toward me, attempting to pass by me and out the door, but I capture her around the waist and pull her onto my lap. There’s no denying the raging erection I have, which her hot ass has given me. She squirms and pulls at my hand, trying to free herself, but it onlymakes my cock want her more. And all the friction of her hips grinding against my lap only makes my cock harder, and her awareness of that fact all the more real.

“Now, as I was saying, we have to discuss your future here.” If I could take her now, I would, but I prefer my women to be obedient.

She slaps my hand and says, “What is that supposed to mean?” She spits as she talks, so flustered and enraged that she doesn’t care how foolish she looks struggling against me. I'm twice her size. This is almost comical.

“It means you’re going to use your talents for me now. You’ll hack whom I say you will, and you’ll move money how, when, and where I say you will.” The more she fights me, the more aroused I get, but that’s not why I’m here this evening. Though, if she doesn’t watch it, I may teach her a lesson or two, anyway.

“Hell no. You can’t do that to me.” Her hands curl into fists, and she begins to pummel my arm as if that’s going to keep me from holding her down. She’s only hurting herself. She’ll wake with bruised arms and hands and wonder why she even tried to fight me.

“Hmm… Then Daddy Dearest dies.” I stand, carrying her with me as she continues her assault, and when I drop her onto the bed, she bounces and a yelp of surprise escapes her lips. “Think about it, sweetheart. You don’t really have a choice now, do you?”

Genuine shock on her face makes me smirk with satisfaction. Her eyebrows are high, eyes wide, and she gasps in anger and rebellion. She just doesn’t realize she isn't getting a choice at all. When people come into my world, they do as I say or they leavein a body bag. It would be a shame to waste such beauty on an early death, but I have to keep my public image up as the most ruthless man in the city.

Turning, I reach for the door handle, and she hurls her shoes at me one at a time. They soar through the air and crash into the wall on either side of me, creating two loud thuds that reverberate through the small room. I quickly step through and shut the door and lock it, hoping to contain her anger. But then I hear another sound—something smashing against the door from the other side. It's probably the chair I brought in to sit on. The rest of the furniture in the room is firmly bolted down, a precaution to prevent any further destruction.

Poor little Micah, frustrated and worked up. Perhaps I should give her some time to calm down and think things over before taking any further actions. I have faith that she will eventually come around, but if she doesn't... well, she'll just have to stay where she is for now.

5

MICAH

He can’t do this! I have a legitimate job and a life, neither of which involve criminal activity. I slam my fists into the door even as I kick aside the bits of broken chair that lie on the ground at my feet. I didn’t get a degree in computer programming to be manipulated into using my skills in the criminal underworld. I won’t let them do to me what they’ve done to my father.

“Let me out, asshole!” My fists bang the door over and over. My voice is hoarse, barely able to squeak out words, and I’m furious.

They took me because I stole their money, and something tells me if they’d have nabbed Will, they’d have just killed him. I’m alive because I have tits and for no other reason. After hearing the horror stories about what men like him do to women like me, I’m lucky I’m here and that my hacking skills are all he wants—for now. God only knows what else he has in mind.

After exhausting myself at the door, screaming profanities, and bruising my hands further, I collapse on the bed again. I turn toward the other exit from this room, the window. It’s not locked, so I push it open. The night is cool and damp. Rainpatters on the leaves of a tree growing near the house. The branches stretch out toward the window, and if I could squeeze past the bars, I know I could leap onto a thicker branch and climb down safely.

Except, the bars won’t ever allow my head to slide through. I grip them with both hands and shake hard, but they’re not even loose. They’re firmly attached, and I don’t think I could bust one loose even with a hammer and chisel. It makes a growl of aggravation erupt out of my chest, and I see flashlights flicker on the ground below in the direction of the street out front. Even if I got through the window, I’d have to outrun or fight his men.

There is no way out from the inside, which means I need an external force to come get me. I rethink my entire idea of the police. If Santoro thinks I’m going to hack for him and steal for him, he’s wrong. I’m not stupid, and I’m not one of those dumb bitches who just melts in the presence of a powerful, good-looking man. Yes, he’s ridiculously attractive, and if he took his shirt off, he'd probably be panty-dropping hot, but he’s a sick bastard who’s manipulated my family and people I love for years.

I pull my phone out of my pocket, hoping to get my dad on the line. Maybe he will go ahead and call the police for me. Sure, I risk going to jail for my hacking, but if I can turn state’s evidence on Santoro, testify against him, they’ll let me off easy. If Dad has moved the cash to a safer location, then we’ll have the money and I’ll be free, and Luke Santoro will be locked up.

My phone, however, shows zero bars. And I don’t mean I have a poor signal. I mean three little dots bounce and dance across the signal indicator showing that the device is looking to connect. It doesn't even show the SOS feature for emergency calls, which means Luke is using a signal jammer.

“Fuck’s sake!” With a frustrated grunt, I fling my phone across the room. It bounces off the bed and skids onto the hardwood floor, but I couldn't care less if it shatters into pieces. After all, it's practically useless to me now. I couldn't use it to call for help even if I wanted to. But that's okay. With the pile of cash I swiped from him, I could buy ten new phones once I'm out of this hellhole. If I manage to escape, that is.

The thought sends a shiver down my spine as I take in the dreary surroundings of my prison cell. The faded walls and bars on the windows make me feel like a caged animal, trapped with no way out. But I refuse to give up hope. Not when I have so much riding on my freedom.

I shut the window and throw myself on the bed, fighting back tears. I lie here for a moment and wallow in self-pity again. If I had listened to Dad’s firm warning the first time he found out I hacked the crime boss, I’d be safe now. I know the only reason they found me was how long it took for that hack. My internet dropped a few packets and it delayed my keystroke entry. There is nothing to be done about that.

Now I’m stuck in this damned room, rotting away until I agree to join his organization and steal for him, which I refuse to do. I’m not a criminal. I’m just a computer programmer. I create websites. I don’t hack. Not for him, anyway.

When I’ve had enough of feeling sorry for myself, I head for the bathroom and decide a hot shower will feel nice. I lock the bathroom door, just in case he decides to return to talk more, and strip out of my clothing. Each item gets folded neatly and laid on the bathroom counter as the water heats up. The relaxation hits me the instant I step under the stream of hot water.

Luke Santoro isn’t at all who I thought he was. He’s just as ruthless and controlling as I believed, but he’s young, too. Which probably only makes him feel the need to be even more unforgiving and punitive than his father. A man in his thirties has seen some shit but doesn’t necessarily have the experience to do all the things a man my father’s age would. He probably feels the pressure to make an example out of me so his men will fear him. I won’t give him the satisfaction.

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