Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

Isabella

Ay caramba!

I can hardly believe my luck.

Yes, yes, I've been abducted by one of the Romanov boys. Er, men. And yes, yes, I know that those ironclad rules we've established since the Stone Ages technically mean my life is forfeit.

Whatever.

The bottom line is I'm in his residence. I've leaped straight from the observation tower into the shark tank.

I can hardly believe I didn't think of this myself. If only I'd seduced him from day one. I mean, this might be most helpful, though, because this way, he thinks this was all his idea.

I must keep him thinking that way.

I take in every detail. While my family hardly lives in poverty, none of the property was mine. No woman has ever been allowed to claim ownership of property in the Los Sangre Dorada. Where I'm from… we're the property.

So, it isn't just the opulence and beauty of his home that appeals to me. It's that it's his . His property. His castle.

I'm half in love… until he brings me to the basement.

Down a flight of stairs, we leave the brightly lit luxury of the main floor. It's darker and cooler here. I shiver, still wet from my run in the rain to the warehouse.

I've honestly had better days. He yanked my hair pretty good back there. My scalp still tingles. My hair is so thick and heavy, even wearing it in a ponytail can give me a headache, and I had the start of one up in that loft. Can't remember the last time I ate anything. Now, my head's pounding like someone put a box over it and is slamming their fists against it.

My hand is throbbing from the damn splinter, and he's been tossing me around like I'm a doll.

And something tells me he's only warming up.

It's fine, though. You don't get to be me without some serious practice learning to lean into pain and discomfort. Hell, in the right circumstances, I might even like it.

It's dimly lit here, shadows playing on the walls as he marches me down a flight of stairs. The air is cooler, and it's dark down here. Ah. This must be his workout room. When my eyes adjust to the low lighting, I can identify various pieces of high-end workout equipment—a weight bench, some dumbbells, and pulleys. The walls are lined with mirrors, amplifying the space and making me feel eerily on full display here. The cool air smells like any gym would, a blend of metal, rubber, and a tinge of perspiration.

It's spacious, with low ceilings and a cool concrete floor. Ahhh. Maybe that's why he's brought me here.

Whatever he's planning on doing to me, he doesn't want to harm those gorgeous floors upstairs.

Exposed pipes run along the ceiling, and along one wall, a row of weight racks gleams, filled with hand weights and kettlebells of various sizes.

I hope he gives me enough freedom to let me explore this a bit more. He isn't the only one who likes to lift.

The opposite wall is dominated by a large, full-length mirror, slightly fogged, and in the center of the room, there are several workout machines—a treadmill, a bench press, and a cable machine. Not a speck of dust anywhere suggests frequent use.

"Someone takes his workouts seriously," I note. He doesn't respond.

My heart comes to a sudden stop when I see the left of the room. Beside a thick punching bag suspended from the ceiling are a few other things—heavy iron chains and ropes, obviously used for workouts but suitable for… other purposes as well. Yeah, those ropes are great for a core workout but… can be used for other things.

Mmm. My captor has a kink streak. Of course he does.

It just keeps getting better and better.

Next to the punching bag are a few more suspension hooks, likely intended for hanging punching bags originally, but they for sure can be used to suspend a person. Those weight benches have leather straps attached, the kind someone might use to hold a foot in place for a workout, but I am confident he could use those for another purpose as well.

I look around and note medicine balls and that pulley system near the resistance bands could be put to good use. In the corner is a water filter.

The dual-purpose nature of this room is clear. I'm not sure if he's ever previously used it for what he's going to do to me, but he's absolutely thought about it before.

It's too bad I'm not the interrogator. I could have some fun here.

I swallow, suddenly nervous, when he brings me over to the punching bag. "Alright, now. Let's get to work."

My heart beats faster. My mouth feels dry. I remind myself that it's essential to stay calm and not let fear best me. I blink rapidly, breathing in through my nose and out of my mouth so I stay focused.

"Stand," he barks. "If you try anything, I'll tase you, so don't get any ideas."

Ah, I'm that much of a threat, am I? Excellent.

I stand and nod. "Going to check for bugs?" I ask, wagging my brows at him.

He purses his lips and holds my gaze. "Mmm."

"I told you I have none, but if that's how you want to start this party, let's go." I wink at him.

With a frown, he stands me in front of him and reaches into the waistband of his pants. I watch as he draws out a blade.

God. Am I slipping? How did I miss that before? I swallow hard as he approaches me with it, slicing through my disguise until it falls to ribbons at my feet.

"You weren't lying," he says, almost surprised when I stand before him in just that band around my chest, no underwear.

I shrug. "Why wear underwear? They only get in the way if you catch my drift."

He doesn't take the bait but flicks the blade and presses it to the bottom of the band. I draw in a sharp breath as he slices clean through it. Damn, that's one sharp blade. I can't help but shiver when it grazes my skin, but he leaves me fully intact.

The band falls to the floor, and my full breasts swing free. My nipples pebble when he draws closer, and his breath tickles my skin.

"Thank God," I say in a thick voice, affected by his nearness and the threat of a blade. "Lucky for you, you'll never know the torture of wearing a bra, and that little torture device was about a hundred times worse."

"Stand still," he snaps. "And be quiet, or I'll gag you again."

I sigh and nod. I'd give him a yes, sir , just to mock him, but he told me to be quiet.

Now for the fun part.

He removes something small and compact from the bag on his front step. Ah. It looks like some kind of a scanner or some such device that you might find at an airport.

"You're strong," he says thoughtfully. "I'd bet most of the equipment here's familiar to you."

I nod. It is, and I'm not allowed to talk. Not that I follow rules all the time, but there's a time and a place, and I need to keep up my energy, so I don't miss anything. My stomach growls with hunger.

"Hungry? Good. That might come in useful."

Dammit.

Well, lucky for me, I'm well versed in fasting, so he can starve me, and I'll be fine. If he keeps me from water, though…

Taking the device in hand, he scans from the top of my head down the side of my face until he reaches my neck. He carefully scans my neck. It emits a soft hum as he runs it over my body, the screen lighting up as he goes. This is some high-tech shit.

The scanner beeps occasionally, but he doesn't pause. Apparently, the little beeps are normal, probably telling him I'm alive but not much else. As he passes my lower abdomen, though, he looks closely.

"No IUD," he says as if surprised.

"Nope. I don't want one of those damn things inside me."

He nods. "Good. I don't want one of those damn things inside you either."

Is he some kind of healthy maniac or… does he have an issue with birth control?

"You aren't a virgin?"

I snort. "Hell no. You really thought I was a virgin?"

He gives me a withering look before rolling his eyes. "No."

"Well, you didn't have to answer that fast."

The grip on his scanner tightens, but he takes a deep breath. He seems thrown off, somehow. I wonder why.

He smacks the inside of my thigh for me to spread my legs. My pussy clenches, and my clit throbs at the nearness of his strong hand and the bite of pain from the little slap. Mmm. Goddamn, we could have some fun together. I've never been interested in regular men, but the criminal type? Now you're talking. None of the men at home tickled my fancy, though. Too macho and too familiar. This one, however…

He scans the inside length of both of my legs. I swallow as my nipples become painfully hard, and wetness gathers between my thighs. It's been way too long since I've been touched by a man, and the last time was hardly memorable.

When he reaches the top of my left thigh, he stares at the tattoo I have, a tight wreath of vines in an elegant, flowing script that reads Fuerza y Libertad.

I got it on my eighteenth birthday, and no one in my family was the wiser. Carlos's sister Renata was the only one who knew about it.

"Interesting choice for a tattoo," he says. "What does it mean?"

I swallow. "Strength and freedom."

It feels oddly intimate to tell him that.

He scans all the way down to my toes, back up my legs, and across my ass until he's finally satisfied.

"Maybe you were telling the truth," he says thoughtfully. "Maybe you weren't. Let's see."

I know he hasn't found anything, but that doesn't stop him from bringing the scanner to my breasts again. He brushes it along the top of my hardened nipples. I keep myself in place with effort, trying hard not to show how much he's affecting me.

He could try lots of different tactics, but this might be his most effective method. I can't let him know.

Wordlessly, he cups my ass in one of his strong, rough hands, the calloused palms scraping across my delicate skin. "And this scar," he says when he notes the white pucker on my shoulder blade. "What is that from?"

"You'd have to ask Javier," I say with a sad smile. Yes, that one's my brother's souvenir.

"Your brother gave that to you?" he asks in a low growl. Is he… angry? Upset that his "prize" is marred? Affronted that he didn't give it to me himself?

"Mmm. What a man, isn't he?" I can't keep the venom from my voice.

He's the devil incarnate, and I hate him.

"I'll fucking kill him," he snaps.

"Not if I get to him first," I retort, and I fucking mean it. I won't let anyone else exact the revenge that belongs to me.

I was the one he hurt. I was the one pressed under his thumb. I was the one thwarted by his chauvinistic tactics, and I will be the one who claims his throne.

Lev gives me a curious look but doesn't respond.

"No bugs," he says, with a satisfied nod. "Now let's get to the good part."

My heart thumps madly. I'm instantly wet. I must be insane.

This might not work out so well for me. Or him, really.

I swallow hard and toss my head as if scoffing at his threat. If he sees right through me, he doesn't let on.

"Come here."

I'm restrained and stuck in place as if someone's flicked a switch and frozen me. With a scowl, he spins me around and claps his hand across my ass. Under normal circumstances, that'd turn me on, but it only serves to unfreeze me. I yelp and hop to, walking over to where he instructs me to go.

The cable system looms in front of me. It might as well be the stocks or a medieval torture device under these circumstances. The cold, metallic glint of the pulleys and weights reflects the harsh light of the basement, casting eerie shadows on the walls.

What time is it? It's got to be the middle of the night, maybe even into the wee hours of the morning. I'm tired and hungry and in pain, but I will not break.

I will not.

When I cast a glance at him, his dark eyes are unreadable. The weight of our situation presses down on me. At any moment, he could end my life, but then where does that leave him? The irony is that the only thing keeping me safe is my identity… which is also my greatest condemnation.

The tension in the air is palpable. I shiver, not from the cold, but from not knowing what's coming next. He doesn't seem tired like I am at all but energized and almost excited. I mean, he's got a naked woman at his mercy. I don't really blame him.

"Enjoy the view?" I ask, somehow managing to keep my tone light and not betraying the fear that thrums through my veins with a life of its own.

"You seem to be enjoying the attention," he says smoothly.

I roll my eyes, trying to mask my growing terror. "Well, it's not every day I get such an audience for my workout routine."

His low, dark chuckle makes my frayed nerves quiver. "This is no workout routine, Isabella."

I give a mock gasp. "No," I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "Are you going to make me confess my addiction to sweets and my appalling lack of cardio?"

A hint of a smirk tugs at his lips. "It's more your extracurricular activities that interest me."

I toss my hair, but he's got me in a tight grip. With deft moves, he lifts both of my wrists over my head. I crane my neck to see what he's doing but can't really get a good view. I don't need to, though, as the next moment, my wrists are pulled into restraints.

Uh-oh.

Here we goooooo.

"I'm just trying to learn everything I can about you, of course. You intrigue me."

He snorts. "Right."

"Go ahead, Lev. Give me your best," I challenge, dropping the teasing lilt of my voice. "Whips and intimidation tactics won't break me. And honestly, I'm not scared of you."

"Good," he responds. "Fear makes people weak. I prefer my women strong."

His women. Why does a sudden need to know exactly who his women have been grip me? He's nothing to me. I don't care.

I'm not jealous. God.

He pulls a lever, and I stifle a gasp when my wrists are lifted above my head so high I'm on my tiptoes. He has complete access to my naked body.

And something tells me he's going to use that to his full advantage. I squeeze my eyes shut and brace myself for something. Anything. But when long minutes pass, I finally venture to open an eye.

He's standing in front of me, his face unreadable as he looks at his handiwork. When he meets my gaze, he doesn't speak, but something warm and delicious unfurls in my belly.

It could work, my instincts purr. We could conquer everything together. If only I could get him to come to me, to bow just the tiniest bit, I could have this man eating out of the palm of my hand. I want him. I want us.

I blink, trying to shake the spell he has over me. It doesn't work.

Slowly, methodically, as if he's polishing specks of dust off a prized possession, he runs his hand down the length of my body. He starts at my shoulders, his hands hot to the touch. Down my back he goes, to the small of my back, until he gets to my ass. I watch the outline of his arousal with appreciation, his thick cock taut in his pants. I lick my lips.

Next, he runs his hands down the length of my thighs, all the way down my calves, down to my feet.

"What's your training regimen?" he asks me, taking me by surprise. "Your body's an absolute pillar of perfection."

His praise warms me. I didn't expect it.

"I eat clean. Run for cardio. Swim at every opportunity. Strength train five days a week. But really, mi querido jefe , it isn't fair. Here I am, all naked and on display, and I can only guess at what's beneath your clothes."

A corner of his lips quirks up, but he doesn't bite.

He comes in front of me and steps so close, the warmth of his breath brushes my skin. He weighs my breasts in his palms and brushes his thumbs across my nipples. I do my best but can't completely stifle a hum of approval. My God, it feels good to be touched like this.

Thankfully, I'm good with the knowledge that I'm crazy. Most women would likely berate themselves for craving the touch of their captor. Me? I've never been more turned on in my life.