Page 69 of Savage Love

“Of course,señor.” The thinner man–Jorge–backs towards the door, and I feel another cold rush of panic as it closes behind him, and I realize that I’m now entirely alone with Diego.

I don’t see the slap coming. Diego hits me, palm open across the face, but so hard that it knocks me to the floor. I end up on my hands and knees, heaving from the pain, very sure for a moment that I’m going to vomit all over the expensive rug in front of me as I stare down at it, my mind absently tracing the pattern as I struggle to regain control of myself.

“Get up,” Diego snaps, his voice disgusted, but I’m not sure that Ican.My stomach is still heaving, my face burning and aching by turns, and I feel as if I’m going to pass out.

“So fucking weak,” he snarls, grabbing me by the elbow and dragging me back to my feet. “How did such a weak little bitch manage to run my men on a merry chase all through Rio? I wouldn’t believe it if I didn’t see you standing here in front of me.”

He slaps me again, on the same side of my face, sending me to the floor again. I hit my knees hard, scraping them against the rug, and my eyes burn with tears.Don’t cry, I shout at myself in my head. I don’t want to cry in front of him. I don’t want to give him that fucking satisfaction.

“Where is my sister?” I hiss between breaths, trying to grab some air in between the bursts of pain from my now-bruised cheek and jaw. “Where is she?”

“You’ll see her soon.” Diego pulls one foot back, just in time for me to nonsensically notice that he’s wearing crocodile leather boots, and kicks me in the ribs. In the stomach, in the ribs again, and I wrap my arms around myself, tears welling in my eyes as I think over and over,oh god no, not my baby, no, please no.

I can’t tell him I’m pregnant. I have no idea what he would do. If he plans to sell me, as I still think he might despite his treatment of me, he would probably force an abortion on me. He might anyway, just for the pleasure of hurting me, regardless of what his plans are. No matter what, I can’t tell him that. I can’t give him anything else to use against me.

His foot is drawn back again when the door opens, and I see Hugo and Jorge walk in, Isabella between them. Her lip is split, but she has that defiant look that I know so well on her face, and I’m sure she gave one of them hell before they finally broke and slapped her—probably Hugo. I don’t think Jorge is stupid enough to do that.

Diego’s face goes dark as he takes it in, at the same moment that I see Isabella look down at me in absolute horror, the way I’m curled on the rug, my hands protecting my stomach.

“What the fuck did you do to her, youfuckingmonster?” she shrieks, wrenching out of Hugo’s grasp before he can stop her. As if by instinct, he grabs her hair, wrapping it around his fist as he yanks her backward, and she screeches.

Jorge opens his mouth to say something, but he doesn’t have time. Diego draws a gun faster than I can blink, and a gunshot temporarily deafens all of us as Hugo hits the floor, bleeding from a hole in his forehead.

“I told you not to touch them,” Diego says coolly, setting the gun down. “I assume it was Hugo who did that to her lip?”

Isabella is shaking, crumpled against Jorge, Hugo’s blood splattered on her arm. She jerks away from him the moment she realizes that she fell into him, and Jorge nods, looking the slightest bit pale.

“He was. Sounds like she gave him some trouble—but of course, that’s no excuse,” he adds quickly.

“Of course, it’s not a fucking excuse,” Diego spits. “One girl gavehimthat much trouble? No, he wanted a reason. I hope it was worth it.”

Diego steps past me, to Isabella, and he grabs her chin as he turns her head this way and that, ignoring Hugo’s body next to his feet. I can’t stop staring at it, at the blood leaking from the gunshot wound onto the rug.

“Make sure we compensate the homeowners for their rug,” Diego says idly as he inspects Isabella’s face. “It wouldn’t do to be rude to our hosts.”

At least they’re alive.It’s all I can think as I lie there, wracked with pain, a dead body only a few feet away from me, and my sister being held in the grasp of the man we both hate and fear the most in the world.

“It’s not too bad,” Diego says finally. “I’ll have to delay her sale until it heals, but the man I planned to sell her to said he couldn’t meet until a few days later than planned, so it might work out.” He lets go of her face, turning back towards me. “As for you—”

Isabella opens her mouth to say something, and I stare daggers at her, hoping she sees the look on my face. I don’t think she would say anything about the baby—I think she would come to the same conclusion that I have—but I also know she’s likely as panicked as I am and twice as likely to let her tongue run away with her.

Diego reaches down, dragging me to my feet again. I can’t help flinching, and he laughs, as if he’s truly delighting in the whole thing. “Don’t worry,” he says carelessly. “I won’t hit you again. Not yet, anyway.”

He motions to Jorge, who brings Isabella to the side of the room, and then leads me over to stand next to her. She immediately fumbles for my hand with one of hers—both of which are bound with the same sort of ties—and I cling to her fingers, needing something,anythingto ground me, to keep me from falling apart.

“You’ve made a fool of me,” Diego says harshly, looking back and forth between the two of us. “Yourfamilyhas made a fool of me. Or at least, you’ve tried to. But I’ve persisted. I’ve continued to look for ways to ensure that the Santiago family comes to understand that Diego Gonzalez isnota man to cross.” His eyes narrow as he comes to a stop, facing us. “And now, I’ve succeeded.”

“In what?” Isabella spits. “You have us here. Congratulations. You’ve captured two women, and not even yourself, but by sending your goons after us. Big, terrifying man you are. And that doesn’t mean it’s over. My husband rescued me from the bride-tamer. Elena’s husband worked for the goddamn fuckingSyndicate.You think you’re scarier than that?” She laughs, a rough, rasping, cackling sound that I’m not sure I’ve ever heard from my sister before. “You’renothing. And when they come for you, you’ll die nothing.”

She rears back, spitting in his face, and I see the way Diego stiffens, the clench of his hand as he physically stops himself from assaulting her for it.

He reaches down, fishing a handkerchief out of his pocket. Slowly, he wipes the spittle away from his face, tucking the handkerchief back in, and then as casually as if he were reaching for something off of a shelf, he steps forward and punches me in the jaw.

The pain bolts through me, the force of it temporarily making the room swim as I collapse back into the bookshelf. Books tumble off behind me, clattering onto the floor, and I slump as Diego stands there, watching me with a careless expression on his face as Isabella cries out in shock.

“Brave words from a brave little girl,” he sneers. “I can’t lay a hand on you, since I intend to sell you. But that doesn’t matter. It’s better, in fact, I think. You could take the blows. I know some of the things the bride-tamer did to you, the stories he’s known for. I’m certain you would take the pain and still spit it back into my face—unless I did something truly terrible to you, something that would render you unfit for sale, and I don’t want to do that. I can’t take a total loss.”

Dimly, I hear what he’s saying, and fear creeps along my skin, settling into my bones with a sick realization of what that means. If he’s taking his violence out on me, if he’s willing to hit me and not Isabella because he plans to sell her, then that means hedoesn’tintend to sell me.

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