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CAMILA’S HEAD POUNDED as she blinked and opened her eyes, the darkened room around her slowly coming into focus. Her mouth was dry and her stomach lurched as she tried to sit up from the mat she was lying on, her muscles stiff from the cramped position she’d been sleeping in. She fell back to the ground on her side, whimpering, but realized that she was unbound. Unharmed.
Aside from a slight ache in her upper arm from where her bodyguard had gripped her, she’d been left untouched.
For now.
She shuddered and hugged herself more tightly as her stomach roiled.
She felt too weak to do anything other than lie there, slowly breathing in and out. Slowly letting everything come back into focus. Hoping that the nausea would go away. What kind of chemical had been in that cloth they’d held over her face?
What else had they given her?
She recalled her bodyguards rushing into the café. Turning on her. She may not have been part of her father’s operations, but everyone knew what he did.
Why they kidnapped women.
She clasped her legs tightly together, as if that would somehow prevent anyone from harming her. The silky sundress she was wearing had felt seductive and sexy before. Perfect for an afternoon of shopping and leisure. Maybe catching the eye of an attractive man as it swished around her legs as she moved.
Now she felt practically bare.
Exposed.
The thin material clung to her breasts, accented her shapely hips.
She gasped, panic rising within her. One of those animals could tear it right off her in an instant. And they wouldn’t be gentle. They’d use and abuse her until there was nothing left.
She closed her eyes, blowing out a breath as her heart pounded and alternating waves of hot and cold washed over her. Was she having a panic attack? Responding to whatever they’d drugged her with?
A quiet cough from a few feet away had her opening her eyes once more. Blinking as she again took in the room.
Three other women lay on mats scattered around the floor, one in torn clothing. A purplish bruise was forming around her eye, and Camila’s stomach lurched as the woman turned to the side and vomited. The smallest sliver of light was coming in through the lone window, a dark cloth tacked up over it. It was too high up and too small for any form of escape.
Not that Camila expected to be able to run freely if she somehow did manage to get outside. Aside from the fact that she was clad only in her dress and heeled sandals, no doubt wherever they’d taken her was guarded.
And she was weak. Sick from whatever they’d drugged her with.
The concrete walls and floor and chill in the air made her think they were underground. Beneath a house or building perhaps. The cellar of a home or mansion.
Her own father’s massive estate flashed through her mind. There were armed men constantly coming and going, forming a barrier of protection around the perimeter. None of that mattered now that her father’s men had turned on him. On her. When her bodyguards had rushed into the café, she’d assumed they’d escort her out the back door. That it was unsafe out on the streets, or they saw someone they didn’t like the look of.
Never in a million years did it occur to her that she’d be the one they were after—the biggest prize of them all.
Camila felt someone looking at her, her eyes settling on a young woman to her right. She had on jeans and a thin camisole, and her feet were bare. Dark circles under her eyes made her look even older than she probably was, and her hair was tangled and matted.
“Where are we?” Camila asked, her voice weak.
“Holding cell,” the woman said, pushing herself up into a sitting position and leaning against the wall. She stretched her legs out in front of her, somehow managing to look unfazed by their current situation.
“A holding cell?”
“I’ve seen four women come and go,” the woman said, coughing. “Today. Several others came and went yesterday. And the day before that. Nobody stays here for long.”
Camila again tried to sit up, her body feeling like it was weighted down. Her arms wobbled, unsteady, her muscles refusing to hold her up. She collapsed back down to the mat in a huff of frustration.
“The drugs they gave you will wear off—until the next round. They barely give us any food or water down here, but what they do is laced with something. You’ll be out for hours afterwards. They want us weak and complacent. Not much you can do unless you want to starve to death. Or die of thirst.”
“How long have you been here?” Camila asked, her head spinning. Just that simple act of trying to sit up had left her reeling. If anyone were to come in here and take her?
She’d have no chance of fighting them off.
No hope of escape.
The woman shrugged. “A week maybe? Don’t know. Don’t care. I figure this has got to be better than where those other women were taken. They give me a little food and water, and I spend the day sleeping. No one has touched me.”
Her eyes ran over Camila, taking in her expensive dress and shoes. “How’d you end up here? You don’t seem like the type of woman they’d normally target.”
“Horrible luck,” Camila muttered. “And lots of enemies, apparently.”
“I’ll say. You’ll probably be the next to go. They can make a pretty penny off someone like you.” Her eyes ran over Camila again. “Unless they’re holding you for ransom? Some rich boyfriend or husband to come rescue you?”
Camila’s stomach tightened. “My father,” she murmured.
The woman chuffed out a laugh. “Wonderful. A daddy’s girl. You’ll probably be out of here in no time then. Unless they can make more selling you to the highest bidder.”
Camila pressed her lips together. The women who were sold as sex slaves were usually never seen again. But being held for ransom didn’t mean she’d fare well either. Did they take her for money? Or to lure out her father?
He could pay a ransom, and it’d still be possible they’d never let her go.
Not when she was the bait that all those men would love to claim.
Her lower lip trembled, and she bit down into her flesh, refusing to give in to her despair. Refusing to give the men who’d taken her any of her tears. What had she just told Rosa the other day? She could take care of herself.
Inexplicably, her mind flashed back to Colton. His warm brown eyes, muscled hands, and commanding presence had soothed her in a way she didn’t think was possible. Not when she’d never needed a man in her life before. Someone like him would always make sure she was safe and secure. A man like that would tear down walls and fight wars to get her back.
But right now?
She had no one on her side.
She wasn’t his.
Her father would come—maybe. He’d send some of his men at least. But would that be more about saving face or rescuing her? And if he did show up or send a team in after her, would her captors really let her go?
“How long have I been here?” she asked the woman.
“Probably fifteen hours or so. They brought you here yesterday afternoon—the guy carrying you in wanted to rip your dress off you right here in front of everyone. The others wouldn’t let him.”
Camila shuddered.
“I guess you’re too valuable for that. They haven’t touched me yet either—can’t pretend to know why. I don’t know how many women are being held here. Most don’t seem to stay very long. And the men running it like to sample the merchandise, if you know what I mean.”
Camila muttered a curse as a woman a few feet away started sobbing. “I shouldn’t be here!” she wailed. “I need to go home!”
“Shh, sweetheart,” the woman clad in jeans said. “Don’t let them hear you.”
“What’s your name?” Camila asked.
“Mariana. You?”
“Camila.”
“Don’t expect to get out of here,” Mariana said. “One way or another—they own you now. It’s easier to accept that.”
“I’ll never accept that,” Camila said, disgusted.
Mariana shrugged. “Maybe you’re lucky. You’re rich. But the rest of us? We don’t have a chance.”
