Page 81 of Captive Prize

The stupid fucker was holding me prisoner in my own goddamn warehouse.

One that the Ivanovs had already infiltrated.

If I survived this, I would never live it down. Who the fuck got taken by someone so fucking stupid?

Being taken by the Ivanov devil was one thing. He was strong, smart, and a fucking force.

Mateo was an entitled, money-hungry, drug-addicted bitch.

Who now had control of my men, including two of my armed guards who stood watching on either side of the door, their faces masks of indifference, their fingers resting on the triggers of their assault rifles.

Fucking traitors.

Cowards.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I seethed, ignoring the throbbing pain in my temples, the stinging ache in my scalp where I was sure I now had a bald spot, and every other single inch of my body that just hurt.

Mateo, the fucking pussy, was looking for weakness.

For something to exploit.

“Hello, boss,” he said with a sickly-sweet taunt. “You should be happy. I risked so many men to get you out of the clutches of the Ivanov bastard.”

“Gee.” I smiled back. “Thanks so much for the rescue. Now, how about you let me out of this chair, and we get back to work?”

Mateo let out a loud, hyena-like cackle.

God, I was going to enjoy killing him.

“Oh, it’s going to be so much fun,” he said as he tightened his hand in my hair and forced my head back further, making me stare straight into the blinding light bulb.

Another shock of pain pierced through my temples, straight into my brain. I had to fight back a wince.

“Let go,” I said.

“You are no longer in a position to make demands. In fact, you should have never been given a position to make demands of me or any of my men.”

“I wasn’t given shit. I spent good money for you. Clearly, I overpaid.”

He let go of my hair long enough to take a step back and then his arm flew through the air, his knuckles dragging across my face in a backhanded slap that sent fire through my head as my neck was yanked to the side.

The chair tipped, and I thought for a moment I was going to go over until he grabbed me by the hair again and forced me back into an upright position.

“You always were such a mouthy cunt, with your orders and demands, as if you had the right.”

“I do have the right, you dumb fuck. I pay you. And them. You work for me,” I seethed.

His hand flew through the air again.

This time I got closer to falling, the vertigo twisting my stomach, and I could taste iron in my mouth. It wasn’t a lot, but still.

“The only thing a dumb bitch like you should have ever been allowed to do is cook for my men and suck their cocks. That’s it. You are not worthy of giving demands. You’re just some blonde bitch that was given too much of daddy’s money. We are going to fix that.”

I had no idea how long the medication had been in my system.

What time was it? What time had I been given the IV? How long was I out the first time? How long had I slept in Roman’s arms?

The food I made took at least two hours, but past that I had no idea how long I had before I stopped clotting.

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