Page 28 of Corrupted Bride

He needs me?

I pull my hand from his grasp and step back from the desk, giving myself some much-needed space.

“I have a little self-respect left, Bass, and I’m not interested in losing it with you.”

I don’t know why he looks like that hurts. What does this man even care? He got what he wanted that night, and I did too. It’s my fault for wanting more. I had dreams of sleeping with him each night until it was time to escape my family, some stupid delusion where I could distract myself with this beautiful stranger. Maybe even feel good for once.

Instead, this is reality.

Some asshole got his dick wet and only wants me when it’s convenient for him.

“It’s about your family.” His tone is sharp, like he’s not happy about it. “If you want your car, you need to show up.”

Without a word, he stalks away.

I stare, my mouth hanging open, terror ringing down my spine like a bell.

Did he say…? There’s no way he meant…?

But, oh god, he did.

Hector’s missing. Now a cartel-connected monster’s talking about my car.

Like he knows what I’ve been trying to buy.

This is bad. This is so bad. If they know about Hector, he’s dead. I know what my uncle does to men who cross the Escalante, and he won’t be lenient a second time. Hector’s dead and that means I’m dead too, and oh, god, this is a nightmare. This is my worst nightmare coming true.

But hold on. Breathe, Mari, breathe. Calm down and think. What did Bass actually say? If you want your car. Not something about Hector, or how I’m in trouble, or how he’s getting his throat cut as we speak.

If you want your car.

Like it’s still an option.

Or like he’s dangling a carrot to beat me in the fucking face with the stick.

“Mari? Hey, you okay? You look really pale.” Sara appears at my side. She steers me over to the counter behind us. “Sit down before you pass out.”

“I’m fine.” My hands are shaking though and she clearly doesn’t buy it. “No, really, I’m okay. Nauseous for some reason.”

“Let me get you some water.” She hurries off and leaves me alone to pull my shit together.

Bass is a bad guy. I didn’t look into him—and now I’m cursing myself for being so naive. I need to know the sort of monster I’m involved with, but it’s too late now. I can search Google on my phone but that won’t bring up much.

Creatures like him are too smart to have public profiles.

Still, after I’ve gathered my wits, I do what I can on the sly. A few things appear.

His full name is Bastiano Serafino. His family is old Austin, about as old as it gets. There are news stories about their construction firm going back generations. Apparently they live on some famous ranch out on the edge of the hill country an hour out of town, which explains the hotel stays.

Otherwise, there’s nothing. A few articles about a man named Vince, probably Bass’s brother, but that’s it.

I’m still very much in the dark when Bass calls down for dinner.

My life feels like it’s spiraling out of control as I ride the elevator up to the penthouse. But that’s only me lying to myself. I never had my shit together, not once in all these years.

I tried, but it failed miserably.

And here I am thinking I could do it again, and this time, do it right.