Stolen Dove: Stolen Hearts Series by Blake, Carina (novels in english .txt) 📗

get you one of those reading devices if you want and you can select books to order online."

"Do you all have a bookstore nearby?”

"There are bookshops in Madrid, but most of the literature is in Spanish."

"Oh. I forget that I'm not home.” I sigh heavily. I could really use a Barnes and Noble.

"This is your home,” he snarls. Goodness, he really hates when I say that.

"I meant in New York where Spanish is the second language."

"So if it's the second one, how come you never picked it up?" It’s a fair question, I suppose.

"I failed it in school. I hated my Spanish teacher. He was a grade-A prick who thought my eyes were located on my chest."

"Oh. Okay."

"What does that mean?"

"Nothing. I'll have a Kindle for you when I return, and then you can order whatever books you'd like."

"Even how to dispose of a dead body?" I challenge, thinking I’m funny.

He closes the distance and then slides his hand into my hair and pulls me close so his breath tickles my neck and then says, "Then you could help me, but the books don't really do it justice." He kisses my lips and walks out of the bedroom door. I shake my head and smile, pressing my hand to feel the heat and electricity. Then, the door pops open and Victor sticks his head back in. "Remember what I said about anyone touching you."

I nod. "Okay."

I walk into the bathroom and still smell his body wash. I hate how much I crave his smell. I look over the latest marking and frown. I can’t look at the possessive marks when he seems quick to fuck and run. I take my sour mood and push it away. He ran a nice hot bath for me, and I have the house to myself. What is there really to complain about? What would my life be like if I was forced to the streets if I escaped my father’s grasp?

I laugh to myself as I slide into the bath. A moan escapes my lips as the heat feels great on my aching body. I’ve never been in a bathtub this large. I probably will never get out. I lay my head back and think about my father. What must he be thinking now? Is he freaking out? Missing out on another payday with me? I’m sure he’s pissed that his only asset was snatched away.

Snatched away by a wicked Spaniard with a need to devour every inch of me. It’s hard to stop being turned on by Victor. He left, and I’m still aroused. I need to find a hobby. I wonder how massive his library is. Is it Beauty-and-the-Beast massive, or barely a study’s space worth of books? In this day and age, most people don’t have physical books. I love having actual books in my hand, but I’ll settle for whatever I can get. Finally getting out of the tub when I’m chilled and my fingers and toes are wrinkled, I wash off the bubbles and wrap a massive towel around my body. Feeling the exhaustion of everything, I fall onto the bed and pass out.

* * *

I wake up, and the sun is bright in the sky. Looking over at the clock, I see it’s already one thirty, and my stomach rumbles. I do the math on my fingers. I passed out for two hours. Strange. There’s a blanket covering me. I don’t remember pulling it over me. I stretch out and feel the ache through every part of my body. Well, I better get dressed and look for some food, and then I need to find this library. I slip on panties and a bra, then dig out a plain white T-shirt and a pair of green khaki shorts from the drawer. My hair’s a little curly from falling asleep with it wet, so I brush it and put it in a long braid. I’m so grateful whoever brought the clothes and supplies remembered basic hair ties. I slide on a pair of almost generic flip-flops.

As soon as I step outside my door, I'm surprised when I nearly collide with a guard. "Oh my goodness. Sorry." All the while, my mind is racing about why Victor has someone keeping tabs on me.

"I'm the one who's sorry. I'm Vicente. I normally guard around the house. I just spoke to the boss, and he's gone for the day. Do you need anything?"

"I'm actually heading down to the kitchen." I remember where that is because it's the one place I've actually spent time in other than our bedroom since I arrived.

He nods and continues to patrol the corridor before coming down the stairs. I hear him say “all clear” into his earpiece.

I don't know why they would do a check upstairs when no one got in or out of the house, but whatever. I'm new to this world, even though it's how we met. My father was mafia adjacent, an errand boy of sorts, but that's all I know about the life.

Frankly, I have no idea what Victor does or how dark his story is, and I don't want to know. I'm not sure I could handle the details.

When I get to the kitchen, his housekeeper, Maria, is in there with the cook, whom I haven’t met yet.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Serrano. How are you?”

“I’m starving, actually.”

“Oh, no. Let us get to it.”

“No, it’s okay. I can make my own food.”

“Señor Serrano left strict instructions that I’m to prepare your meals. I am Geraldo, by the way. I am the chef around here.”

“So do all of you live in the house?”

“There are several employee homes on the estate. There are the old servants’ quarters that Señor Serrano keeps for the staff who have to stay overnight or work long days, but the rest of the mansion is for his family. Dona Serrano and Hector have their own rooms, but they rarely stay.”

“We can’t wait until there are little ones running around