Vanquished (The Encounter #3)(7)

Written By: Pamela Ann



He raised his hand before he caught himself midway then lowered it. Instead, he released my chin as if in disgust.

“You’re cunning woman!” he bellowed, eyeing me as if I was the filthiest thing he had set his eyes upon.

Hugo was angry, and I wanted to make it all better, but images of him f*cking Sherry or Chantel in his bedroom, on his desk—anywhere, really—made my stomach churn. It was over. I had nothing to be guilty of—well, apart from a thorough explanation to Julien, but I was sure the man could understand that I was desperate.

“I answered your question. So can you hand me my phone back now?” I tried to ask in a calm tone.

Hugo’s face told me I had better skedaddle, or I would very well witness the brewing storm that was yet to be unleashed.

“Like hell I will!” he bit out, watching me like I was prey, as if I was a damn target to be killed with his bare hands.

How dare he intimidate me! Stupid bastard.

“Fine, you can have it.” Fuming, I spun and marched towards my scattered clothes, plucking them off the floor as I wiped my tears away.

“Do you honestly think I’d let you leave after you lied to me. Insulted me!”

Blasted stupid f*ck.

“I did no such thing,” I reasoned as I quickly dropped the sheet and began dressing. “I can leave whenever I want. You can’t hold me hostage, Hugo.”

“Try me, Isobel. I can do bloody well as I please,” he said in a deadly manner before adding, “How many men?”

That made me pause halfway in to sliding on my black jeans.

“How many men what?” I snapped, impatient at this whole f*cking fiasco.

“The men … you let into your body?”

Men? What men? Then it clicked. Ah, here we go again. I was the proverbial whore, right? Of course. Every single, sexually active woman was in this world.

“The word you’re looking for is f*ck, Hugo. How many men have f*cked me since you; is that your question? For a man who likes to f*ck all day long, you seem to be rather reserved when it comes to using the word.”

“I could take everything from you; you know that, don’t you?” he threatened, determined to get the answer from me.

If I were not drunk, not so broken, maybe the threat or manhandling would have turned out the way he wished it to. Nevertheless, I was those things. Therefore, better luck next time, I suppose.

“Go ahead. I don’t do well with threats. Who cares, anyway? I’m young and beautiful—a lot of men would be more than happy to have me. So go ahead. Take it all away. Do as you wish. Wave your magic wand and make it all happen. Oh, wait, you simply snap your fingers, yeah? Do what you have to do, Hugo, but I’m leaving.”





Chapter Five


Isobel





“If you take one more step, I’m going to bring hell to your family. Every. Single. One,” he succinctly delivered, making sure I understood what the threat entailed. It meant Yannis. My mother.

Coldness washed over me as I spun around to face the guy who had my heart and was willing to go to such lengths to punish me. My father I couldn’t care less about, even myself. What I couldn’t stomach was the very thought of my little brother and mother in harm’s way. And the bloody man knew it, too.

“You can’t mean that …” I whispered, wondering what he could do to them. He surely had the money and power to make anything he wished happen.

“Test me. You’ll see the extent of how much you’ve angered me right now, Isobel.” His face said it all. He wasn’t toying with me. He was going to carry out whatever he promised.

“You want me gone. I’m willing to do that now,” I stammered, unsettled at the seriously deadly expression on his face.

He strolled towards me, biding time. “You betrayed me,” he said dispassionately before adding, “again.”

With my jeans pooling at my feet and only my tiny thong on, I tried to cover my breasts with an arm, ashamed that his closeness aroused me. It reacted to him even though he was threatening me. It was twisted how one’s mind and body didn’t communicate the way they should.

“What lured you to open those legs to my best friend, Isobel?” he hissed into my ear, sending hot air around my neck.

I winced, not from him barking into my ear, but from my nipples hardening and the aroused state of my wet pu**y.

“When did this happen, Isobel?” he demanded, snapping me back to reality.

“After you told me to disappear from your life.” My mouth ought to be shut forever.

“Petite pute!” (Little whore), he bellowed out before his hands gripped my shoulders, almost shaking me.

“Let me go,” I demanded as his fingers dug into my skin.

“You’re nothing but filth. And to think I almost fell in love with you, thinking you were the most beautiful thing that ever happened to me!”

Almost? Almost … quite … but not. Just as well.

My precious lie … It was too late to take back now. I simply had to live with it.

“What are you doing?” My eyes dropped to where his other hand was … unbuckling his belt.

“Your punishment,” he grated out. “I’m about to show you how little whores should be treated.”

The second the belt was in his hand and snapped before me, I stared at it as if it was my death knell.