Tears of Tess (Monsters in the Dark #1)(27)

Q continued in his deep, accented voice, “One, I rape you, hurt you, do everything you expect of me, and make you live a miserable existence.”

I narrowed my eyes, watching closely. His shoulders tensed on the word rape, but excitement heated his gaze, too. Why the two emotions? One hot and wanting, the other repulsed and angry. Lacing fingers together, I squeezed. Fear threatened to close my throat.

“Or, tell me about yourself, and, if you have a skill I need, I’ll put you to work in other ways.”

I couldn’t help myself. “Other ways?”

Regret flickered across his face so quickly, I wondered if I imagined it. He nodded infinitesimally. “Other ways.”

“Like what?”

“Tell me about yourself.”

“Tell me first.”

He slammed his hands on either side of his plate, rattling the china. “Goddammit, girl, I’m offering you a choice. But it doesn’t mean I can’t take that choice away.” He breathed hard and his anger sent fear spiralling inside.

He called me girl, and yet, I doubted he was much older. Early thirties at the latest. But age didn’t matter when he shouted. He scared me more than Leather Jacket did. At least with him, I knew the man I fought. Q, I had no idea.

Trying to focus, I sucked in a breath. Q offered me a choice. If I wanted to escape, I had to bide my time. If Q put me to work, I might have more opportunity than being tied to a bed.

I mirrored him, placing hands on the table, strengthening my resolve. “What do you want to know?”

His shoulders relaxed a little, but the hardness in his pale green gaze never left. “Where are you from?”

“Melbourne.”

“Do you speak any other language but English?”

I shook my head.

He snorted. “That’s the first thing to change. I refuse to speak English for long periods. It’s a boring language. You will learn French.” Waving the comment away, he asked, “What other education do you have?”

I walked a spider’s web, one wrong answer and I tickled the wrong strand, inviting choice number one of rape and ruin.

“I’m still at university. I’ve waitressed and worked in retail.”

He huffed, inspecting perfect fingernails. “Nothing of importance. You better have more talent, otherwise…”

I rushed, “I’m training to be in property development. I’ve almost completed a project managing degree and side line in architectural sketches.”

He paused. Interest replaced the hardness in his eyes for a brief moment, before the shutters slammed closed again. “Go on.”

There wasn’t much else to say. “I’ve yet to sit final exams, but I studied how to do building budgets, deal with local councils, permits, trade requirements. I’m top in the class for an eco-sustainable village concept for our mid-terms.” I fibbed. I came second, but if he wanted me in property, shit, I’d be the best in property I could be.

He leaned back, steepling his fingers again. I fast recognized the trademark move. Q moved with power and the undeniable knowledge of perfect control. “How did they take you?”

The abrupt change in conversation side-lined me.

I thought I’d pushed the terror down deep from being kidnapped, and purged myself last night through a wash of tears, but panic rose and roared, blotting out everything, apart from the agony of seeing Brax bleeding and men knocking me unconscious. Oh, God, would I ever be free?

Q shifted, waiting. He neither cared, nor took sadistic interest as I struggled with memories. Why the hell did he bring it up? Bastard.

I answered in monotone, pretending I hadn’t lived it. Surprisingly, it helped distance myself, and a shot of pride filled me. I’d fought and taught Leather Jacket a lesson or two. I celebrated the small win. “I was taken in Mexico. They hurt my boyfriend, knocked me out, and took me somewhere.”

“Did they hurt you? Apart from your ankle?”

If he classified being beaten and tattooed, then yes. I nodded.

He sucked in a breath, forehead furrowing. “Did they rape you?”

Leather Jacket tried, but failed. A cold smile tugged my lips. “No. One tried. He wasn’t successful.”

His hard smile matched mine, and something webbed between us. Understanding? Respect? Something I said changed the way Q thought of me.

My pulse accelerated. Perhaps, if I made him see me, not as a possession but as a woman, things might not be so lost after all.

Whatever his feelings, if his respect granted safety, I was all for it.

Whatever happened between us disappeared when Q murmured, “What’s your name?” He kept eyes shadowed by looking at the newspaper on the table. Did he not think I noticed the casual question?

I pursed my lips, not answering.

After a moment, he looked up, glaring. “You will tell me your name.”

My breath came faster, hurting my rib, but I remained silent. What are you doing, Tess? Is another beating really worth keeping your name a secret? I knew the answer: yes, it was. My name was the only thing I owned. It was sacred.

I jumped as Q called, “Suzette!” His chin rose, showing a graceful neck and rough-smoothness. Cords of muscle hinted at a rigorous exercise program, yet his body wasn’t bulky. In another life, I would’ve drooled over him. He ought to be on the cover of a GQ magazine. My eyes narrowed. Was that why he called himself Q? So egotistical.