Prison Break (4 page)

“So you are Jeremy's latest fling.” She got
up from the couch and approached her. “Of course, another Latina.
If you can't be near the real thing, an imitation would do.”

The brunette paled.

“You know,” Natalia continued, “he never
broke off our engagement.” She walked slowly around her, taking a
good look at her. The black stretch jeans showed off the brunette's
shapely rear and legs. Her hips were slightly wider than Natalia's.
Not bad, actually, if this was the piece of ass Jeremy had around
for now. The girl's charcoal boatneck silk top looked elegant yet
causal enough for Natalia to notice the plump peaks. She had a
little bit more flesh there than Natalia.

God, he's getting some good fuck. This was
war. Natalia narrowed her eyes as she faced the brunette again. “So
technically,” she said, “we're still engaged.”

The Latina's eyes looked like they were deer
caught in headlights. Good.

Emboldened, Natalia continued, “And that
means, you amount to nothing but an affair. A boy toy. A play
thing. A slut.”

She looked ready to cry. Another good
sign.

“A step up...from a battery-operated
girlfriend,” Natalia smirked. “But still used, nonetheless. Poor
girl.” She wanted to incite this woman, get her to react, get her
out of the building, or at least plant a deep seed of dissension
between her and Jeremy.

The brunette stood to attention, jaw set. “I
don't believe we've been introduced, Ms....?”

So she speaks.

“That would be Wyatt, of course.” Natalia
smiled. “And you are?”

“None of your business.” The brunette brushed
past her and stormed off to the elevators.

Natalia watched the elevator stop at the top
floor. Of course, Jeremy would rent the top floor suites. Good,
that made finding his actual suite even easier.

After signing the contract for a furnished
suite on the second floor, Natalia transferred her luggage to the
suite. She returned the rental car and had a complimentary drop-off
back to her complex.

When she was back in her suite, she got
dressed. Smiling at her reflection in the mirror, she was ready for
the next step of her plan to win Jeremy back. She grabbed her key
card and made her way up to Jeremy's floor.

What if he wasn't there?
Then, she'd
come back again.

What if the slut was there?
Then it
would be Round Two.

What if he was there?
Good. Then she
can proceed with her eye candy plan.

One suite after another, she interrupted
until he answered the next one in his white polo shirt and denim
khaki pants. God, he made everything look in style.

“M—” His warm smile turned cold.

The slut must be gone. Maybe Natalia's
earlier tirade had sent the girl packing. Jeremy must have been
expecting her to be back.

He started to close the door.

She slipped in quickly before the door banged
shut.

“You aren't welcome here.”

“What a warm welcome for a fiancé,” Natalia
purred, getting herself in the mood.

“We aren't engaged. We never were.”

“Yes, I'm sure we can find something more
engaging.” She slipped out of her trench coat and let it drop to
the floor. She started to unzip the front of her corset.

“You need to leave before I call security to
escort you off the premises.”

“Oh? So I can go back to my suite?” She
walked towards him and draped her arms around his neck.

He backed away, the guest closet not far
behind him. If he didn't want to touch her, he had no more room to
back out if she kept advancing. “You're telling me you're a
resident now? You're stalking me!”

“Oh, I settled in quite nicely this morning.”
She grinned. “What a nice surprise to meet the slut. She led me
straight to your floor. I would have found you sooner or later. How
could I possibly stay away from what's mine?” She brushed the skin
along his arm, watching the flesh prickle with goosebumps.

He shrank away. Oh, this game of cat and
mouse was getting exciting. “I was never yours. You made sure of
that. And you even sealed it, getting rid of the ring
yourself.”

She advanced further, set to spring upon
him.

The doorbell rang.

Must be the slut.

Natalia flung her back to the door, threw her
head back and screamed, “Oh, yes! Jeremy, fuck me hard.” She
crashed her elbow against the door. “Oh, god, yes!” She crashed the
door again and again. “Oh, oh, oh. Oooohh!”

“Damn you to hell, Natalia!” he yelled. He
pushed her out of the way and opened the door. He looked out into
the corridor. The slut must be gone, because he probably would have
chased after her if she was still there. Good, Natalia's plan had
worked. Now she had Jeremy to herself.

Jeremy turned back towards Natalia, grabbed
her arm and led her into the hallway. Entering his suite again, he
retrieved her trench coat and threw it at her. “Get the fuck out of
here.”

Slam!

She stared at the closed door, feeling naked
in the hallway.

“If I can't have you, neither can she,”
Natalia spat through gritted teeth. “And I'll make you realize all
you can have is me.”

Hell.
That was what he said. He wanted
her to go to hell.

She banged the door with her fist. “And if I
go to hell, you're coming with me.”

Hot tears trickled down her cheeks. She put
her trench coat on and hastily returned to her suite on wobbly
heels. Nothing was going according to plan, but she liked how alive
she felt. Every cell in her body was charged. She was getting her
juice back from years of nodding, masking and faking smiles at
political events.

She was ready to fight, fight back, fight for
what she wanted. If he wanted hell, she could give him hell. He
grabbed her after all. Maybe she could use that against him
somehow. She fished out her cell phone and called the police.

Diez minutos.
Ten minutes.

The prison guard had told him that he had ten
minutes to talk to Councilman Mateo Varela. Jeremy intended to keep
the rest of the call in English, on his turf.

“Varela,” a gruff voice answered.

“Councilman,” Jeremy greeted.

“Are you mocking me?” he grunted. He probably
did not expect an English speaker.

“Prison walls cannot strip you of your
rightful title, especially for trumped-up charges.”

He muttered under his breath a grudging
acceptance of the title.

“I'm calling about your wife.”

“Where is she? How much do you want for
her?”

“I don't have her. She's here of her own free
will.”

“We tracked her last call to Seattle. My men
have been looking for her.”

“They're looking in the wrong city. Send them
to San Francisco.”

“What's she doing there?”

“There's no easy way to say this,
Councilman.” Jeremy paused.

“Tell me. Now.”

“Your wife showed up at my door in clothes
only a husband should see her in.”

“Son of a bitch.
You
are Jeremy! Fuck
you, asshole!” He continued cussing, breathing hard into the
phone.

“I left Argentina over two years ago,” Jeremy
said quietly, when Varela settled down. “I have not stepped onto
that continent since.”

He waited for the comment to sink in for
Varela.

“Your aggravation mystifies me,” Jeremy
continued. “And for your information, she got none. I threw her
out.”

Varela sobered, probably debating about what
to say next. “She would turn away or have her eyes shut, even those
early days. A few times she said your name in her sleep.”

No wonder Natalia showed up at his door. The
two never got going in the first place. That poor couple probably
didn't orgasm in over two years.

“Councilman, I know you come from a family of
distinguished service, and I have no doubt you are a
gentleman.”

“I'm not a fool. Just say it.”

Jeremy stifled a groan. “I don't think
Natalia wants you to be a gentleman in bed. In my limited
experience...” Sure Varela told him he could tell it straight, but
from experience he knew that a man still had an ego. “...and this
is over two years ago, please remember, she likes it when a man
commands the bedroom. She's submissive and wants a man to exert
dominance.”

“I'm not that kind of man,” Varela said
brusquely. “
Machismo
is trash.”

“This isn't about
machismo
,” Jeremy
said. “Tell her what you want her to do in bed. If she obeys you,
please her. If she disobeys you, punish her by forcing pleasure on
her even when she doesn't want it. So the choice is still hers—to
obey or disobey. However, you get to determine how the consequences
are met.”

“How?”

“Use sex toys, if you have to.” A vibrator
would surely help, for starters. “Find out what pleasures her. Keep
it interesting. Keep her guessing, so that she wants to obey you in
bed, so she can get her next fix—the gentle way.”

“I have one minute left. Make it quick.”

“Have your men track the cell of one of my
men to get the GPS coordinates.” No way was Jeremy going to give
his own cell number, in case it somehow got into Natalia's hands.
“She's in suite 210. Have them hand her a cell phone and a
vibrating dildo. Fuck her on the phone. She should be on the next
flight back, pounding on your prison door, and showing up in that
outfit
you
should have seen her in.”

“I'll try it.” Varela gave him the cell
number of one of his men. “If it works, what do you want?”

“Her, off my continent.”

“Done.”

The line went dead. Good. At least, they
established a mutual understanding.

He picked up the phone again. “Hughes.”

“Mr. Wyatt.”

“Text a message to this cell number.” He gave
Hughes the cell number Varela gave him. “Inform the man to track
your cell for the GPS coordinates here to suite 210.”

“Yes, Mr. Wyatt.”

Jeremy hung up the phone and sighed.

Now all he had to do was wait for Natalia to
get some and drop the charges or wait for her to leave the country
without testifying for the charges to be dismissed. Meanwhile, he
had to figure out how to win Maggie back.

Natalia groaned into her pillow the next day.
So much for jumping continents to seduce an old flame. She had
already been rejected twice. Although her latest attempt to win
back an ex-fiancé failed, she did not regret leaving her
stiff-neck, stuffy politician of a husband who was serving time on
spurious charges that would take awhile to clear. She didn't want
that life, but she wasn't liking the start of her new life
either.

She drifted through the rest of the day as if
sleepwalking. She was angry before. When the rage subsided, though,
she felt something else. Was she depressed? Not a good sign. She
was supposed to be enjoying her new life, a life of freedom—with
Jeremy.

God, she had no chance with Jeremy now. Nor
did she have a chance with Mateo. She needed to start all over
again. At twenty-five, she could still be quite a catch. Heck, some
women didn't even get married until their thirties. Fuck, why
couldn't she have great sex and a great marriage all in one?

I SO need to get laid.

The outfit she wore yesterday looked sadly
neglected, crumpled on the couch where she left it. She
grimaced.

What a waste. Might as well make the most of
it by wearing the outfit around the suite for the rest of the
evening. She took the attire into the bathroom and dressed up,
checking herself in the mirror.

Not bad. Not bad at all, if her plan had
worked. Maybe she should add a mini-skirt and go clubbing.

Ding dong.

She jumped, startled. Should she pretend no
one was in at the moment?

Ding dong.

Her heart skipped a beat. It could be
management. No, they would call.

She quickly ran down the list of
possibilities in her mind. No, Jeremy could not have found her
suite. She left it unlisted. It couldn't be Mateo either. There was
no way he could have tracked her to Jeremy's. Could it be the
police? No, they would have followed up on the phone.

She quickly slipped into her trench coat and
secured the sash before opening the door. Two imposing men in suits
stood before her, side by side. She took an unconscious step
backward.

Private security guards, she surmised.

One man handed a discreet paper bag with
handles to her. The other man handed her the cell phone. “Answer
it,” he instructed in accented English.

God, could it be...?

Puzzled, she took the call. “H-Hello?” her
voice shook.

“I've got ten minutes to fuck you on the
phone.” The gruff but familiar voice made her breath hitch.

Oh, god.
She didn't need to go out for
a fuck. Fuck was being delivered!

“Shut the door.” His tone threw her so off
kilter that she complied. Her world spun as her legs grew weak.
Where was the gentleman she thought she knew?

“Now kneel.” God, he sounded sexy. She liked
it when men took charge in the bedroom. She didn't have to think,
just act.

She kneeled.

“You've been a naughty girl,” he sneered.

She winced. She had never heard that tone
from him before.

“Crawl on your elbows and knees to the
bedroom. Use your teeth to take the bag with you.”

She kept the phone at her ear. The paper bag
rumpled in the shuffle to the bedroom.

God, she was wet.

“What are you wearing?”

“A trench coat.”

“Take it off and fling it to the floor.”

She undid the sash at the waist, took off her
coat and flung it to the floor.

“What else are you wearing?”