Page 1 of Jealous Vows

Chapter 1

Sienna Luciano

I wake in a quiet rush,ignoring the ache in my shoulder and hip from sleeping on the hard floor, and strain my ears as the sound carries through my tiny studio apartment again.

Metal slides against metal as the person outside my door continues picking my lock.I grit my teeth, shift deeper under my bed until my back presses against the wall, and tighten my fist around my knife.

My heart pounds in my ears as the latch clicks and door handle turns.A low chuckle lifts the hairs on my nape and fills my throat with bile.

I swallow and watch through the tiny gap between my suitcase and duffel bag as two sets of boots step over the threshold and into the darkness.

The second man shuts and locks the door behind him.I force myself to remain still despite every cell in my body demanding I flee as the first guy takes slow, menacing steps toward the bed.

“Wakey wakey,puta.I caught you.Eres mía.There’s no escaping me now,” he gloats.

My stomach sours at the familiar voice.José Reyes, the president of the local biker gang, has been the most persistent of the so-called suitors my stepmother sicced on me.He cornered me in the alley outside my workplace two years ago, but I escaped out of sheer desperation.It’s been weeks since I heard from him last, so I’d hoped he’d gotten bored of the cat-and-mouse games, but his ego is too inflated for him to give up.If he ever catches me again, I’m as good as dead.

After two years of dodging, I’m running out of options.

I brace as he flings the covers back.He curses.

“What’s wrong,El Jefe?”his second, Elias, asks.

“Turn on the light,pendejo,” José snarls.

He does.The old bulbs and dirty fixtures illuminate the space in a dull orange glow.

“Mierda,” lackey number one mumbles as he sees the pillows I left positioned on the bed.

José snaps his fingers and demands, “Check in there.She was here recently.”

My stomach curdles, but I don’t dare move as Elias stomps toward the bathroom.With nothing more than a toilet, sink, and shower, there’s nowhere to hide, so he flips on the light and grunts out, “Not here.You really think she was here,jefe?”

“Sí.It smells like her,” José says.

Disgust roars through me.I clench my fist around my knife so hard my fingers cramp.

“Drop the letter inla cocinaand get out.Or stay.Me vale,” José says.

The toe of his boot nudges the suitcase closer to my face as he shuffles closer to the bed and unzips his pants.Vomit sours the back of my throat.

“Fuck, she smells good,” he groans.

I lie in silent horror as he strokes his cock above me.Even with the bed blocking my view, every cell in my body revolts, and I keep from vomiting by sheer force of will as he groans, grunts, and gasps.I wish I could erase my memories and scrub my entire body with bleach as the sound of his jizz splattering onto the pillows infects my eardrums.He sighs, wipes himself with the sheet, and zips his pants before turning away.

With dread gluing me in place, I hardly breathe as he stops in the kitchen, opens the fridge, scoffs, twists open the only item—a chocolate protein shake—and spits into it.After closing the shake and shutting the fridge, he turns.Even though I know he can’t see me, terror squeezes my chest as he pauses, but the sound of paper ripping assures me he hasn’t noticed me.

He’s reading the letter he told his lackey to put on the counter.

It’s most likely from my stepmother.This wouldn’t be the first time she sent me an unwelcome missive through her nefarious contacts.José isn’t the only lowlife she’s tried to sell me to.

My father wants more benefits from my marriage, so he hasn’t arranged one yet.I don’t think he’s aware of my stepmother’s games, but since his house is no doubt peaceful again with me gone, he hasn’t bothered to remember I exist in real life.

José’s amused chuckle lifts the hairs on my nape.Premonition spreads further throughout my body with every thud of my heart.

“Gotcha,puta.Hasta mañana,” he muses before slapping the envelope down on the counter and lumbering his way into the hall.

I don’t move.Minutes stretch into an hour before I finally allow myself to take a full breath, but the sour, musty smell permeating from the bed flips my stomach.I gag and pull the collar of my oversized T-shirt over my nose to suck down lungfuls of cinnamon.The sweet and spicy sting clears away the filth from my nostrils, but the sense of violation remains.