Chapter 11 #2
"What if I get impatient waiting for you?" The words slip out before I can stop them, and Santiago's eyes darken.
"Then you wait anyway. Good girls don't touch what belongs to their Dom without permission."
The word 'Dom' makes my breath catch. "Is that what you are? My Dom?"
"If you want me to be."
I think about last night—the way it felt to give up control, to trust him completely, to experience pleasure like I never had before. "I do. I want that."
Santiago's smile is predatory. "Then you'll be a good girl and wait for me. No touching yourself while I'm gone. No bringing yourself pleasure without my permission. Understand?"
My face heats up, but I nod. "Yes, Sir."
"Good. Now, I'm going to shower and then I need to leave. Feel free to order whatever you want for breakfast. There's a list of delivery places on the fridge."
After Santiago leaves for his shower, I wander around his apartment, still wrapped in his sheet.
It's strange being in his space without him, seeing his life laid out in the details he probably doesn't even notice.
Law books stacked beside motorcycle magazines.
Expensive whiskey next to protein powder. Two worlds existing side by side.
I'm examining a framed photo of him and Ashley at what looks like her law school graduation when my phone rings. Ashley's name flashes on the screen.
"Hey, Ash," I answer, hoping I sound normal.
"Oh good, you're awake. How are you doing? Santiago texted me this morning and said you were staying with him."
My stomach drops. "He told you?"
"Not everything. Just that Derek hurt you and you needed somewhere safe to stay. Vi, I'm so sorry. I should have been there."
"There's nothing you could have done. You were away for work."
"I should have insisted you press charges against Derek from the beginning. Should have seen the signs that he was escalating."
"Ash, stop. This isn't your fault." I sit down on Santiago's couch, pulling my knees up to my chest. "Besides, your brother is taking good care of me."
There's a pause. "Just how good of care is he taking of you?"
Heat rises in my cheeks. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Violet Elena Martinez, I've known you since we were kids. I can hear it in your voice. Something happened between you and my brother."
I'm quiet for so long that Ashley sighs.
"Finally," she says.
"Finally?"
"Do you know how long he's been pining after you? Since you turned eighteen, at least. Maybe longer. I've been waiting for you two to figure it out."
"You're not... mad?"
Ashley laughs. "Mad? Vi, you're perfect for each other. You're both stubborn, both loyal to a fault, both way too smart for your own good. My only concern is whether you can handle his world."
"What do you mean?"
"The club, Vi. It's not just weekend rides and charity events. There's dangerous stuff involved. Santiago tries to keep that side of his life separate, but if you're with him—really with him—you'll be part of it whether he wants you to be or not."
I think about Derek following us last night, about the protective way the motorcycles formed around us. "I'm already part of it."
"Yeah," Ashley says quietly. "I guess you are."
We talk for a few more minutes before she has to go to a meeting. After hanging up, I feel a little restless. Santiago's room suddenly feels too quiet, too empty. I decide to take a shower and get dressed.
The hot water feels amazing on my sore muscles, and I take my time washing my hair with his shampoo. When I catch myself getting aroused remembering last night, I immediately stop touching myself, his command echoing in my mind.
I'm drying my hair when I hear a knock at the door.
My heart jumps, but then I remember Santiago said he'd send someone to check on me.
"Vi? It's Cruel."
I pull on jeans and a sweater from Savannah's selections before answering the door. Cruel stands in the hallway wearing dark jeans and a black t-shirt, looking much less intimidating than normal..
"Morning, beautiful. How are you feeling?"
"Better. Want some coffee?"
"Always." He follows me into the kitchen. "Santiago asked me to swing by, make sure you were good."
"I'm fine. Just trying to figure out what to do with myself all day."
Cruel accepts the mug I hand him and leans against the counter. "Derek giving you nightmares?"
"No, actually. I slept really well." I blush, smiling to myself.
Cruel grins. "Whip's got that effect on women. Mans got magic hands."
"Cruel!" I protest, mortified.
"What? I'm just saying." He takes a sip of coffee. "But seriously, you good? You seem wound up."
I sigh. "I'm just not used to sitting around doing nothing. I'm a busy person. I have work, routines, responsibilities."
"All that shit will be there when this is over. Right now, you need to focus on staying safe."
"How long do these things usually take to resolve?"
Cruel's expression grows serious. "Depends on the person. Some guys get the message quick. Others..." He shrugs. "Others need more convincing."
"What will you do to him?"
"Whatever it takes," Cruel says simply. "But that's not something you need to worry about."
I want to ask more questions, but something in Cruel's demeanor tells me the conversation is over. We spend the next hour talking about lighter things—his recommendation for the best pizza place that delivers to Santiago's building, stories about funny things that have happened at the clubhouse.
"I should head out," Cruel finally says, checking his phone. "Meeting starts in an hour. You need anything before I go?"
"Just... take care of Santiago. I know he can take care of himself, but..."
"But you care about him." Cruel's smile is surprisingly gentle. "Don't worry, Vi. Whip's one of the smartest guys I know. He's not gonna do anything stupid."
After Cruel leaves, the apartment feels even more quiet. I try to distract myself by ordering food, watching Netflix, even attempting to read one of Santiago's law books. Nothing holds my attention for long.
As the afternoon wears on, my anxiety grows. What's happening at the club meeting? Are they making plans to confront Derek? Is Santiago safe?
I'm pacing by the windows when my phone buzzes with a text from an unknown number.
I know where you are, Vi. Fancy building. Nice view. Too bad you can't hide forever.
My blood turns to ice. I immediately call Santiago, but it goes straight to voicemail. I try Cruel with the same result.
Another text comes in:
Saw your boyfriend and his biker friends leave. How long before they get back? Long enough for me to pay you a visit?
Panic claws at my throat. How did Derek get this number? How does he know where I am?
I'm trying to decide whether to call the police when I hear the elevator ding in the hallway. My entire body goes rigid as footsteps approach Santiago's door.
The footsteps stop right outside.
A soft knock echoes through the apartment.
"Delivery for Santiago Mendes," a voice calls.
I didn't order anything. And I know Santiago isn't expecting any deliveries.
My hands shake as I grab Santiago's baseball bat from beside his front door—why does he have a baseball bat by the door?—and approach the peephole.
A delivery man in a uniform cap stands in the hallway, holding a large bouquet of flowers. But something about his posture seems wrong. Too tense. Too watchful.
I back away from the door silently, hardly daring to breathe.
The knock comes again, more insistent this time. "Ms. Martinez? I have a delivery for you."
He knows my name. This isn't a delivery man.
I grab my phone and dial 911, but before I can hit send, the knocking stops. I creep back to the peephole and see the hallway is empty.
Relief floods through me until I hear a different sound—the faint scraping of metal against metal. Someone is trying to pick the lock.
Terror overwhelms me as I realize Derek found me. He's here. He's trying to get in.
And Santiago and the others are at the club, with no idea what's happening.
I'm completely alone.