She scoffed and continued to take my measurements. I was sick of being turned and prodded. I woke up that day to Angel’s threats heavy on my mind. His threats weren’t new. I’d even come to expect them, but this time felt different. The control Angel normally possessed was gone.
Even more unusual was when I was taken downstairs where a tall, flame-haired woman, who was dressed for the runway, waited with her two assistants, Ricardo and Ricardo. The first Ricardo was tall and thin with light brown hair styled in a Mohawk. The second man was short and muscular with a thick goatee. Lucas whispered to me when she dismissed me to fawn over Angel, that she never kept assistants long enough to learn their name, so she named them all after her ex-husband. I didn’t know whether to hate her or feel sorry for her.
“Angel, my dove.” I coughed to cover up my laugh. Angel was no dove. “May I see the dress?” She spoke to him, but his attention never left me. He probably heard me laugh. I shrugged and looked away. It wasn’t like he appreciated the name, either. “Ahhh, yes,” Madame Torre cooed. I hadn’t even noticed Z carrying a stunning black gown. “I remember this dress well. This is your mother’s, no?”
Angel nodded and took a sip from his glass. The robe slipped off my shoulders. His eyes finally left mine to watch it fall to the floor. I was the center of attention as I stood naked in the center of the room.
Suddenly, it was dark but only for a second, and then my body was covered in layers of organza silk. The low cut bodice molded to me, pushing up my breasts while the rest of the dress fell a little baggy around my waist and hips.
“I’ll need to make some alterations.”
“How soon can you get it done?”
“A few days. She’ll be the belle of the ball.”
Ball? I was going to a ball? I stared at Angel for answers but found none. I didn’t know how I felt about wearing his mother’s dress or going to a ball for that matter. Once again, he strayed from the script. I was his prisoner, and he was my captor. Music, dancing, and glass slippers didn’t fit into our world.
Chapter Thirty-One
Shotgun!
ANGEL
Three Years Ago
I needed more than just a cold shower after what had happened. I pulled on basketball shorts and left my damp chest bare after stepping from the bathroom. The hall was clear, and there was not a sound to be heard, but I knew Mian was nearby. She wasn’t allowed to leave without me unless she was heading to school. In my room, I turned up Korn’s ‘Coming Undone’ and lit up. Smoke billowed and the scent of a bad habit permeated the air. It only took a couple of pulls for me to mellow into a safe zone.
I almost kissed her.
I had been willing to welcome insanity just for one taste of her.
Damn.
She wanted to bust my balls, and in retaliation, I practically molested her. I wasn’t proud of myself but damn if I didn’t want to do it again.
My dick was already on the rise thinking about it, so I took another hard pull and exhaled sharply through my nose. A knock on the door had the rest of my body stiffening along with my dick. It could only be one person.
“What?”
“Can I come in?”
I hesitated. Her voice was low and light. She at my door tempted me, but I wasn’t eager to poke the beast. She never came to my room. Even when we stopped snapping at each other, we still avoided each other.
“Why the fuck not?” I growled. The door pushed open, and her eyes found me lounging against my headboard. “What?”
“I wanted to talk to you.” She licked her lips—her signature sign that she was nervous—before wrinkling her nose at the thick smoke. “You really shouldn’t smoke weed.”
“Because it’s bad for me?” I mocked. She rolled her eyes.
“Because you’re bad enough,” she countered.
“Not true. I can always do worse.” I winked.
Such a simple gesture made her freeze like a baby deer caught in a truck’s headlights yet my intimidation tactics that folded grown men didn’t faze her.
She huffed and mumbled, “I wanted to apologize.”
My eyebrow lifted. “For what?”
“For trying to knee you in the balls.” I stopped myself from laughing. It was undeniable that I deserved it. I had no business touching her the way I had. Why couldn’t she see that? I know she’s only sixteen, but innocence only stretched so far.
“It’s cool, Sprite. You couldn’t hurt a fly.” I fit the blunt between my lips, watching her as she watched me inhale.
“Is it really worth it?”
“What?” I knew what.
“Smoking weed. Getting high?”
I stared, and she stared back. Making a decision, I sat up against my headboard and while holding her gaze, patted the bed beside me. “Come here.” She took a step closer to the door, and I bit back a curse. “Come here, girl. I don’t bite.”
But I might if you beg me.
She looked like she was having the same thought because her head tilted warily.
“I want to show you something.”