Milena stared at Rafael, wanting and hoping to see a sign of him bluffing. But there was none. This man was dead serious.

Her blood ran cold, her heart drumming in her chest, threatening to burst out of its rib cage.

“Now let go of the towel, little flower,” he whispered, reaching to touch her hands that held the towel tight.

“Please,” she croaked, averting her gaze to the floor.

Rafael sighed. “Didn't I just tell you…”

“Please don't hurt me,” she cut in, a light sob tearing out of her lips. Her voice trembled with fear.

“The fuck? Are you crying?” Rafael asked, holding her chin and making her...