Trafficked -- Beaten -- Trapped
When eighteen-year-old Stacy Degray sets off to visit Felipe, a charming guy she met on the internet, she has no idea that she is being lured to his home country Malaguay to be auctioned off as a soldier's bride. All...
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"Stacy, goddamn it, open up." Miguel pounds his fist against the door of the spare guest room I have chosen as a hiding place. His voice is laced with desperation. "Please, baby, I'm so sorry."
Curled up on the bed with the covers over my head, I ignore him. Sooner or later, he'll have to give up.
"Stacy, please. Let's talk about this."
"There's nothing to talk about!" My yelled words are interrupted by hiccups. "Go away."
"Baby, please."
When I don't respond, the pounding finally stops. With a sigh, I snuggle under the blanket. It's damp in places from my tears. After everything that has happened, I don't deserve this.
A loud bang, mixed with the whine of splintering wood, interrupts my pity-party. I peek from underneath the covers and frown. The whole doorframe is busted, the door hanging off one hinge. Miguel stands in the center like a rock in a raging sea, looking rather smug for a lying cheater.
If I hadn't been raised in a Christian household, I would've used the F-word. "Miguel, what are you doing? Get out!"
"Not before we've talked." He pushes his lip out, his eyes filled with stubbornness. In that moment, he's more like my little brother when he wants a toy than a grown man with a violent streak.
"Fine." I sit up in the bed, hugging my knees. "What do you want to talk about?" My gaze is focused on a bird outside the window. I can't stand looking at him.
"I'm so sorry, Stacy. It was just sex. I only love you."
"Just sex?" My brows quirk with a chuckle, though I feel like crying again. "What an original excuse."
"I know it's hard for a woman to grasp, but that's how men are. We have needs." When I don't respond to his ridiculous statement, he lowers himself on the bed. "Stacy, please, look at me."
I play with the hem of the blanket, determined on the silent treatment.
He sighs. "I wanted to give you your space. After the other night, I didn't think you wanted sex again before the wedding."
I almost choke on his words; when I find his eyes, my lip quivers. "Are you telling me that you can't even wait for a couple of months without having sex with someone else?"
His cheeks flush. At first, I fear he's angry, but when he chews awkwardly on his lip, I realize he's embarrassed.
"I guess I've never had a woman who cared about stuff like that. Juana and I weren't exclusive."
It's my turn to sigh. "Miguel, cheating is something I can't tolerate. My father had an affair that resulted in him having a child with another woman. There's no way I'll marry you and always fear that there's another girl."
"I understand and I swear I'll change. Just give me another chance to prove it."
"There is more."
"More?" He gazes at me with an arched brow. Obviously, he's waiting for me to elaborate.
