Placing my purse on the table next to the bed, I reached out and shook Miguel gently. “Hey, wake up. It’s me, Paris.”
Miguel flinched at first, spinning around quickly to confront me. I wasn’t really sure what he planned on doing with his hands tied. I eased off his blindfold and saw that his eyes were blackened and his lip was busted, but his face was still pretty.
“Se?orita Paris.” His shoulders relaxed, and he gave me a weak smile. That was a good sign. It meant he trusted me. We could get a lot accomplished as long as he trusted me.
“Daddy’s not happy with you,” I said, arms folded.
“Yes, I noticed. He thinks I stole his dope.” His mouth twisted into something I couldn’t quite interpret. Was he smirking, or did it just look that way because his face was so damn busted up? I sure hoped it wasn’t a smirk. As far as I was concerned, that would be almost like an admission of guilt. The uncertainty made me angry.
“Did you? Did you take our fucking shipment, Miguel?”
His entire demeanor changed, all trust replaced by fear. He pleaded, “No, I did not. I tried to tell your people that ... the night they beat me.” He sat up in the bed with a grimace. He probably had a few broken ribs, and in spite of myself, I felt sympathy.
I placed my hand on his chest, touching him softly. “I hate seeing you like this. But you need to try harder. Give us what we want. Just tell me where it is, and I can get you out of here.”
“I can’t, Paris, because I do not know. I swear on my mother. You know I would tell you.”
I backed away from him with a sigh. “You takin’ me for a fool, Miguel? Because I’m not a fool. I know you know something.”
“No, no, I do not. You know how I feel about you. I swear I would tell you.”
His statement stopped me in my tracks. What did he mean, how he felt about me? And why did I care so much? I mean, the sex was hot, but what did I really know about this guy? I definitely wasn’t used to feelings getting involved when it came to the family business, but there was something about Miguel that was tugging at my heart.
“You told my father you would marry me. Is that true?”
“Yes, Paris. I would marry you.”
“You don’t have to lie to me.”
“I’m not lying. I told you I could fall in love with you when we made love, did I not?”
He did say that, but did he mean it? Was it just a moment of passion, or was he falling for me? Maybe this was just the attempt of a trapped man who would say anything to get released, but I wanted to believe him. I sat on the bed next to him and leaned down to kiss him, as if the truth might be found on his lips. The heat between us was instantaneous.
I stood up and unzipped my dress, letting it fall to the floor. “Enough talk,” I said. “I’ve got something that will ease your pain.” I took off my bra and slid my panties off my hips. “They’re outside the door, so we’re gonna have to be quiet,” I told him, though I didn’t think I had to worry about him making any noise. He was staring at me, dumbfounded, looking like he couldn’t form a thought in his head. Who could blame him? I’d had sex in plenty of strange places, but never with a man in captivity. As crazy as it was, I was totally turned on, and from the way his dick was straining against his boxers, I could tell he was too.