Chapter 3

Fear stabs into my heart like a hot iron. What have I done? I keep my body pressed to the opposite side of the car as Chicago fades into the distance and the streetlights become far and few between. Nighttime took over long before I opened my mouth and uttered the worst idea I"ve ever come up with. Me take the place of my father? What was I thinking? I wasn't. I just acted and yet again my impulsiveness has landed me in trouble.

And then he told my father to his face I would call him Daddy from now on. He's old enough to be my daddy, for sure. An unfamiliar jolt of… I don't really know what makes my palms sweaty and my heart rate soar. I wet my lips and try to take control of my heart before I pass out.

Daddy. I try the word out mentally. It flows through my mind all too easily, if I am being honest with myself.

I slide my gaze across the seat. It's hard to read all his features in the dark, but I can clearly see the silver running through his midnight black hair. It's long enough in the front to hang over the side of his forehead after running his fingers through it several times. Of which he has done a lot. Especially since entering the car with me. The scar on his face extends from the corner of his left eye to drape over his cheek. It falls down the side of his neck and disappears into his collar. From there, I do not know how far it goes down his chest or back. What could have left him scarred so badly? A fire, I imagine. But a house fire, a car crash?

Everyone at the fight called him the Beast. It's no real secret why they call him that. Even now with nearly an hour of silence between us and he still scowls. Perpetually unpleasant is how I would describe him. A powerful forearm settles on a pull-out armrest between us. Flickers of moonlight breaking through the trees reveal hints of ink curling over the thick muscle but it's otherwise too dark to make out the ink.

What will the Beast do with me? I had a whole new life ahead of me and now I'm this man's prisoner. My father told me he kept me away from his work for a reason and I insisted he show me. He's hurt, bleeding and now lost his only child to his former boss.

I'm a horrible daughter.

Did I make a horrible mistake?

Stupid question. Yes. Of course I did.

Also, no.

I press my thumb and finger into my closed eyes and try to control my rambling mind. So much has happened tonight that I can't get a tight hold on all the emotions and thoughts bombarding me from all directions.

I don't know if my deal with the Beast was horrible or not. My father is alive. That matters to me.

I hold that truth, and I wrap my heart around it.

It doesn't help. I can't seem to get the thing to stop trying to beat a hole through my chest. I wince and wish for the hundredth time since sliding into the back seat of De La Rosa's Bentley I could turn back the clock. I take a deep breath. That doesn't help either. I steal another glance at the Beast through the curtain of my hair as he types out texts to someone.

The little control I gained over my thundering heart vanishes when I find him staring back at me.

"Bella."

My body tenses.

He puts his phone aside and reaches across the seat and stretches his hand out for mine. I keep my gaze cast down, but can't find it in me to slide my palm into his.

"Bella." He says my name again, except this time there is a hint of worry wrapped around the syllables. I can't imagine why.

My brain stutters on how I should respond. Uncertainty threads through me and I can't control the shaking of my hands.

"There is no reason to fear me." De La Rosa finds my hand in the darkness and threads his fingers through mine. Calluses cover the pads of his fingers. His hand is larger than mine and yet he takes care not to tighten his hold to the point of pain. Rough skin glides over my palm. I'm not an expert at relationships. But the sight of him slowly raising my hand and placing a delicate kiss over the backs of my knuckles has my mind whirling with curiosity.

Am I his prisoner, bride-to-be, or simply his full-time guest?

"What will you do with me?" I shift in the seat and turn my full gaze to his. Shadows drape over the expanse of his right side. Like this, I can pretend the scars covering the other side don't exist. To be fair, the burns don't bother me. Perfection isn't something that draws my attention. The way he moves his body when he walks. The deep baritone of his voice. The way the pad of his thumb strokes over the back of my hand right this second…that draws my attention. He's the very definition of masculine power. He could crush my hand with the slightest squeeze. And yet, he's gentle. As if he is afraid of hurting me.

With a frustrated grumble he says, "Let's leave the questions for tomorrow. Tonight has been enough to handle without trying to figure out the future."

"Does that mean I won't like the answer?"

"It means it's late, Bella."

I bite the inside of my cheek to tell myself just to sit quietly and enjoy the ride under the full moon. It doesn't work. "While I'm glad I'm not dead and you didn't kill my father, it would be nice to know if you plan on throwing me in a tower or a dungeon."

Or worse, will he force me into a dainty little maid's uniform and pass me a toilet brush? I would rather he slice my throat and end this entire game. I have nothing against the work, but I didn't make my way through two years of art classes in London to end up painting smiley faces with bathroom disinfectant.

Heat floods my cheeks. Not out of shyness or embarrassment, but pure irritation.

Gulping air in, I fight to control my words and my uneven breathing. It works.

We sit in silence for several moments. He strokes the back of my hand and I let him. Why is a question I'll bother answering after I have a few hours sleep and something to eat. I'll also work out why I let him kiss me and why I liked the feel of his lips on mine.

The car slows and we pull off the road a moment later. The windows are tinted and throw a shadow over a large gate. A moment later a guard steps out of a nearby cement house and greets us with a slight wave. Woven into the metal rods is a beautiful rose in full bloom. The large ornament breaks down the middle when the large wrought-iron gates swing wide. I can't help but think how true that is for life. What is beautiful as a whole can easily break with a single push of a button. The new life dad had planned for us crumbled at our feet with one impulsive decision. Two if I want to be honest—dad's when he betrayed his boss and me when I offered my life for his.

The driver takes us up a long gravel road. On either side are large trees that form a closed canopy of limbs and leaves overhead. It would appear almost like a fairy tale if I believed in that sort of thing.

The car stops outside a large stone mansion and I take a few gulps of air to steal my nerves. I wanted this, I remind myself. My father is alive and I'm not dead either. Two silver linings to keep in mind.

"We are here."

De La Rosa's voice rumbles straight through me as he opens his car door and slides out. He hasn't released his hold on my hand so I follow him out the same way.

Our feet crunch in the gravel as he leads us around the car and up an expansive set of stone stairs. Large pillars decorate the corners of the entrance. Overhead is a small extension resting on top of the towering support columns. It speaks of strength and wealth. Deep wealth and power. This man snaps his fingers and his will is done. No wonder my father begged me to go home.

"Do you like your new home?"

My tongue doesn't work for several seconds as I stand at the Beast's side looking up at him. He's a beautiful man made of anger and pain. I have no idea what I'm doing or how it will turn out for me, but the sheer amount of power shimmering around him is palpable, and it draws me to him. I didn't think I could be curious about a man I've just met, but here I am. In his home and wondering why I like the way my hand feels in his. Maybe this new situation isn't so bad, I lie to myself.

Enforcers come out of the house cutting off the invading thoughts I have no business entertaining.

"Sir. Welcome home. We have a few things to update you on when you're ready." Three sets of eyes swivel my way.

So this is who he was texting in the car. "Updates on what? My father?"

He shakes his head. "None of your concern."

I bristle at his response. As the daughter of an enforcer, I'm not new to the life. I don't know every intricate detail, true, but I'm not a wilting flower either. "I refuse to be pushed to the outside when it comes to my family. If something is going on with my father, you need to tell me."

Shadows roam over his expression. He doesn't like being stood up to. That is his problem, not mine.

While looking me in the eye, he grumbles orders out to his enforcers.

"Find Mabel. Tell her we have a guest who needs to be taken to the her suite. Now." The more he talks the harsher his tone turns. My cheeks flood with embarrassment and anger for the men receiving his brutish orders on my behalf.

I jerk my hand out of his and step away. I make my way to the top landing of the entrance. His eyes burn into the spot between my shoulder blades as I move farther away.

"Once you've found Mabel, wait for me in my office. Now leave us."

I grab the hand of the closest enforcer. "I'm sorry to cause you any trouble. Thank you."

Stunned, the man says nothing. All three turn, leaving me alone with De La Rosa who is quick to grab me by the shoulders and spin me around.

My finger is in his chest and I lock eyes with him the second his face is in mine. "They might call you the Beast, but you don't have to act like one. And you will learn I don't do well when others order me around."

De La Rosa frowns deeply, his brows knitting together. "Don't apologize for me. Ever. I meant every word I said and how I said it."

I match his anger with my own. "Don't be so rude to the people helping you and I wouldn't have to. Do you hear yourself?"

He draws back, considering me a moment. Long enough for me to calm my breathing. He seems to do the same. "There's a reason I don"t treat these men like they are my friends. Your father is the latest example. Do I need to continue?"

Ouch. I wince. His phone goes off and he pulls it out, taking my hand again in his free one. "One moment. We can continue this conversion after I take this."

I shoot a hard look at him. "There's nothing else to say. Be nice. It's not that hard."

He answers the phone, but stays silent as I assume he receives a report from one of his men. His gaze roams over my hair and touches on the way it hangs over the curve of my breasts.

A wave of chills ripples over my skin. Now that my mind isn't fully in survival mode, I can appreciate other details about my surroundings as I wait. Like the scent of roses in the air. The warmth of the night. The way this man turns his body into mine and seems to take in every movement I make like it will give him answers about who I am.

"Was that about my father?"

His jaw clenches and the lines around his mouth deepen. I can't imagine he has many people demanding answers from him.

He takes a moment before he answers.

"In a way, Bella. Darrion is sending out feelers about how bad his men messed up tonight and he's looking for his man and your father. Both have disappeared."

"What happens now?" I fear his answer, but I have to know.

His bright gaze fixes on mine. A huge chunk of ice settles on my chest and I remind myself I am the one who wants answers.

He brings his hand to my face. The warmth of his touch contrasts the coldness in his next words. "When I get my hands on Abel, he is the first who will pay for his disrespect against my name, territory and the man they cost me. Then I'll go after Darrion."

I shudder. Death is here, and his icy touch is on this man's soul. I can appreciate his candor. I'm also mentally brought back to the reason I'm here.

"What will happen to my father?"

"I don't know yet."

Another direct answer. He takes his touch away from my face and gathers my hand in his once again.

"Fair enough, I guess. All I ask is that you don't keep me in the dark."

"I don't make it a habit to share my business with others."

I glance down at the way his thumb has returned to smoothing the skin along the back of my hand. "Maybe you will make a concession for me this once." When my eyes meet his again, there is an understanding there. It gives me hope I'm not wasting my breath. I don't want to think too long about how comforting the slight gesture is to me. Another thought that enters my head is why? Why does he feel the need to constantly touch me?

In an attempt to lighten the dark somber pressing in on my emotions, I ask, "And me? Is this where you throw me in the dungeon or lock me in a tower so you can decide on what you will do with me?"

His strong jaw is accentuated with a seductive shadow of scruff. An air of severity lingers in the aura of power clinging to him. I half expect him to grab me by the throat right now and throw me in a hole somewhere. I know he asked Mabel to take me to my room, but that could be a ploy to get me inside. Once past the front door, I'll be helpless.

Who am I kidding? The moment I got in this man's car, I gave up all control.

But that isn't what happens. His lips peel out of the permi-scowl he's worn since the second I met him. And for a second I swear I see a fraction of a smile touch his mouth. "I have neither of those things. Will a suite of rooms do?"

I wonder if he's talking about his room?

I didn't think of that. I'm his to do with as he pleases. An in-home sex slave to do his bidding should have been at the top of my list of things he would want from me. My heart races and my imagination goes right along with it. One kiss from this man had my body burning from the inside out earlier. What would his naked body and rough touch along all my curves do to me?

The longer he holds my hand the easier it is to forget I'm not his willing guest. Wet heat spills between my legs at the idea of another kiss. "Why are you being nice to me?"

He lifts a brow. "Would you rather I abuse you? I'm sure I have some chains around here somewhere. I'm more likely to have garden tools, to be frank."

He actually made a joke. "So you are a mafia man that doesn't have a murder room, torture devices and rolls of plastic on hand?"

He waves a hand in front of him while wearing an arrogant smirk that tugs at the right side of his mouth. "Not here."

I look around. Rose bushes are everywhere and he doesn't seem on guard like he was back in the dingy basement full of fighters. He's relaxed.

"This is a safe house?" I ask.

"It's a place where you will not be found."