Page 136 of Captivated

This man believed he was untouchable.

“Get out of the car,” he deadpanned.

Fine.

Whatever got her farther away from him, she was game.

Unfortunately, the second she got out of the vehicle, she was dragged to Rich’s side again. She couldn’t even try to hide the shiver of disgust that wreaked havoc up her spine at the feeling of his hand gripping tight to her waist, never mind the taste of bile growing stronger in her mouth when he kissed the side of her head.

Her fists twitched.

She was going to hit him again.

If he kept that shit up …

“Let me show you around,” he said, “and then you can get yourself familiar with whatever rooms you prefer. It’s all made for you—every room, every floor. All the things I know you love, and things I love to watch you do. For a while, I’m sure it’ll seem like a prison to you while you work out your problems, and we work out our issues, but that’ll pass.”

Their issues.

He expected them to live together, and work out their issues.

“You’re delus—”

“Happy,” he interjected, squeezing her side hard enough for it to hurt. “I am incredibly happy because right now, I have everything I want, Liliana.”

Oh, God.

The disgust was back.

It burned her throat.

“Don’t try to run—you won’t make it far,” Rich told her as they climbed the stairs to the entrance of the large mansion. “And despite what you may think, I don’t like it when you force me to teach you a lesson.”

Liar.

Bastard.

Monster.

“You first,” he sat, patting her on the ass.

The door was opened, and Liliana moved inside. Anything to get the fuck away from him, or at the very least, put a few feet of space between them. It might help her to control herself, if nothing else. She needed to stay alive, after all. Provoking Rich into some kind of physical altercation was not going to keep her alive and breathing until Joe or her father could find her.

Rich took great pleasure in showing Liliana around. It kind of stunned her how a lot of the layout of the place reminded her of her grandparents’ mansion. She had mentioned once to Rich how much she loved their home and how comforting it made her feel when she visited. He’d gone with her once or twice to the Marcello mansion, as well, and clearly hadn’t forgotten anything.

“And I think you’ll like this room quite a bit,” Rich said, turning to face Liliana as he leaned against the wall. Waving at the entryway to the space, he added, “Go ahead, and take a look.”

She peered in.

Her stomach dropped.

It was a dance studio—barres along one wall with floor-to-ceiling mirrors behind them. Large windows covered the other wall. Lights hung from up above, and the brightness made the cherry oak floors gleam.

“I’ve missed watching you dance,” he murmured.

Jesus.

He was right in her ear.