No one moved.
Strip. Kneel. Beg.
Three words, and Hector's brain short-circuited. Twenty minutes earlier he had been sitting at that table like it belonged to him. Now he was on his feet, thrown out of his chair, and they wanted him to crawl in front of everyone, naked.
He scanned the faces one by one, looking for someone who would tell him this was a joke.
Nothing from Lorenzo. His father was watching it with the air of a man waiting to be told the meeting was over.
Flash had lost his smile, but probably only because he wasn't used to being part of the furniture.
Dahlia didn't move either, but her shoulders said she had seen the blow coming, and her eyes said she still didn't believe it.
And then there was Victoria.
His gaze locked on her and didn't leave.
Fuck, what kind of joke was this? What kind of sedative had they given him so he could sleep this long and still not wake up? Because this had to be a dream. There was no other explanation.
