Chapter 4

Vanessa

After being yanked from my bed in the middle of the night, I find myself sitting in a black SUV beside a psychopathic, egocentric monster.

He has fair skin, a chiseled jawline, piercing, sky blue eyes, and a rugged allure that makes him appear both sexy and terrifying. His hair is a gorgeous waterfall of black curls, gracefully framing his face. Dressed in an all-black ensemble, tattoos subtly peek out from beneath his jacket sleeves and adorn his neck, adding to his dangerous persona.

We've been driving for at least an hour. My senses are on high alert, my blood pounding in my ears so loudly, I can't hear anything else. I scan the car for a way out, but there isn't one. Even if I manage to find a way to knock this asshole out, I would still have to deal with the man who's driving, and my sister, Alicia, is trapped in the other car. I have no doubt that his men would kill her in an instant if I actually made a move.

How could my father do this to us? Five million fucking dollars? I've never even seen anywhere close to that amount of money in my entire life. I knew he was selfish, but he was really stupid enough to think he would get away with stealing that much money from this dangerous man?

I'm not sure how to feel knowing he's dead, it's not like he was an active parent. We only saw him once or twice a month when he dropped off groceries. Alicia has been raising me since Mom passed away eight years ago, when I was twelve and she was seventeen. We weren't allowed to leave the house because Dad said it was too dangerous. I just didn't realize that he was the one putting us at risk. I figured he was into some shady shit, but not with men in the fucking mafia.

At twenty-years-old, I'm still a virgin. I'm not too sure about Alicia, she was seventeen before we were put on lockdown. Mom actually allowed her have a life, and we were in public school before Dad yanked us out and forced us to finish school online.

I tightly grip Mom's urn, fearing that it might vanish. This Dickweed nearly destroyed the only thing I had left of her.

I can't believe he was about to kill us until I agreed to be his, "pet". I don't even know what that means, besides the fact it's something sexual. Do I just fuck him when he needs relief? I mean, he said "his" pet, so I assume he's not going to pass me around to all his men...right?

"We're almost home, Mama."

Mama. Why does every time he call me that, my stomach clenches? What the hell is wrong with me? How could I possibly get aroused by my father's murderer?

"I have no home. You just burned it down, dickweed," I mutter bitterly.

He grabs my face, squeezing my jaw as he forces me to look at him. "You will learn to respect me, Mascota (pet)."

His voice is low and menacing. His eyes resemble the raging sea and I'm about to damn near drown in them. But I don't look away. I may not know the twisted thoughts in his head, but he'll never be able to break me.

My voice is unwavering as I say, "Choke on a dick and die."

It all happens in a flash. One second, we're locked in a heated gaze, and suddenly, I find myself pinned underneath his powerful body with his hand firmly around my neck. His lips are dangerously close, and I can almost taste the tequila lingering on his breath.

I refuse to show him my fear. That's what this sick pervert wants anyway. "Get off of me!" I hiss, venom dripping in my tone.

I watch as his jaw tick. "The faster you learn how to behave, the better. I don't wanna have to punish you every day."

Punish me? I wish he'd fucking try, so I could kick him in his balls too.

The car finally comes to a halt, and the driver utters something in Spanish. Dickweed glances up at the window and sighs. "Ahh, we're home. Ahora eres mío (Now you're mine)."

"I'm sorry, what the fuck did you just say?"

Every time he switches to Spanish, and I don't understand a word he's saying, it terrifies me even more. Damn it, I should've paid more attention in my online Spanish class or watched more Dora as a kid. But it's not like I ever imagined getting kidnapped by a Mexican drug lord.

Ignoring my question, he shifts his weight off me before helping me sit up. "Are you going to get out of the car, or do I have to carry you?" he asks in a calm, menacing tone.

"I'll go willingly," I mumble, and he motions for his driver to unlock the doors. Once I step out, my jaw drops as I realize we've arrived at a massive estate. It's breathtaking, every part of the structure carefully crafted to perfection. It's like something out of a dream.

Or my very real nightmare.