by S Williams
I turn rapidly, and rush for the door with cloudy vision. My anger has blinded me tenfold.
Before I can open the door, the boss calls after me, and what he calls me causes a gasp to spill through my parted lips. It’s not niñita or green eyes.
“Gianna Nicotera,” he says, as if he’s familiar with my name. The way it rolls off his tongue—his accent enhancing the sound of it—makes me wonder if I know this man at all. He seems familiar, but I can’t place it.
He’s not too much older than I am.
I glance over my shoulder at him. His back is still facing me, his fingertips running along the fine wooden handle of his paintbrush.
“Breakfast is at eight a.m. sharp. Be on time or you will regret it. I don’t admire tardiness.”
I don’t give a shit what he admires. He doesn’t own or control me. Fucking bastard.
I snatch the door open and storm out, but the tall man calls after me from his corner, quickly shaking his head. “I take you back. You don’t walk freely around here, bitch. Not until he says so.”
I feel my right eye twitch when he calls me that, but there isn’t much I can do. As of now I am trapped here and from the looks of it, there is nowhere to run.
I saw how Patanza had to get in here. There are codes. Gates. There is no escape unless you are given permission to go...or unless you work for him.
But even so, there is nothing but darkness surrounding the idea of freedom.
I won’t get out clean—or probably alive.
He made it simple in there.
If I run, I die.
I stare at the bedroom door.
I feel the presence there.
Someone is watching.
Waiting.
I saw their footsteps go past and they haven’t gone back. I pull the blanket up to my nose, still staring at the door.
I don’t know if he has someone on guard around my door, but if they were being a guard, they wouldn’t have passed so quietly. So sinisterly.
The hallway light shuts out behind the door. It’s completely dark where the crack is. Pitch black.
I turn on my side with an intense glare on the doorknob.
It jiggles gently and I gasp, covering myself up some more—until I feel like I’ve drowned beneath the thick blanket.
The jiggling stops.
All is quiet.
All I hear are my ragged breaths.
And then I hear them.
The same footsteps that I almost thought I had imagined. They move across in slow, measured strides and I listen until I can no longer hear them.
Sighing, I turn onto my back and stare up at the canopy. I don’t feel safe here. I am being forced to sleep with one eye open.
I don’t even trust my life in his hands. He said I wouldn’t be harmed here, but how can I believe any of what he says after the way he killed my husband?
I don’t trust him and he doesn’t trust me. Why keep me here if he knows I will just be a burden…
Unless he thinks I know something—but there isn’t much to tell. Toni kept his work life out of our personal life unless it was completely necessary to tell me.
I guess he didn’t think this Draco Molina would be a threat worth discussing.
I’d never heard of this man before now. I don’t know who he is and even if I did know something I would never tell that son-of-a-bitch.
Chapter Eight
Day 7
The sunlight is spread across my body. My curtains have been opened by someone, but I don’t know who…that is, until I see the woman sitting in the recliner across from the end of the bed.
I sit up rapidly with a sharp gasp. She has her legs folded, her brown hair tucked neatly behind her ears. Her white suit is crisp and clean, the silky red blouse beneath it revealing most of her cleavage.
Her brunette hair swims around her shoulders, a small smirk on her lips. I notice there are honey streaks in her hair.
I yank the blanket up to my chest, sliding my back against the headboard as I stare at her. “Who the hell are you?”
“No one to fear.” Her ruby red lips purse together, and then she uncrosses her legs to stand. She walks towards my window, running her fingers along the white curtain. “I decorated this room, you know?” She looks over her shoulder. “Draco let me.”
I don’t say anything. I just study her. Though she seems well put together, there is something off about her. Her eyes are dark. There is no happiness within them. But what really catches me off guard are the scars around her ankles, like she’s been bound by them before. Her ankles are exactly how my wrists will be once healed.
“Why are you in here?” I demand. “This is my room.”
“Oh, don’t get so full of yourself, honey. This was once my room too, and a girl named Nilah, but she wasn’t very compliant.” Her arms fold across her chest as she looks me over. “You know what happens to the girls Draco tries to save, but they turn out to be disobedient?”
I narrow my eyes.
“They end up dead.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“I just want you to know. I heard there was a new girl here. One that Draco didn’t want being touched. I also heard that you got loud with him last night in his galería which wasn’t very wise on your behalf.” She shakes her head with disapproval. “I am surprised he didn’t do anything to you.”
She walks around my bed and to the door. “But I guess this morning will make up for that.”
“What do you mean?” I ask quickly.
Her eyes spark, as if she’s pleased to know what I don’t. “You missed breakfast. Draco has a strict code. Everyone must be in the dining room for breakfast by eight and at dinner before seven and no later.”
“I don’t even know what time it is right now. I don’t have a clock in here.”
She shrugs one shoulder. “That’s why you wake up and figure it out yourself. Sleep in the dining room if you have to. Doesn’t matter as long as you’re on time.”
She starts to walk out but I scramble out of bed, calling after her.
She pauses, peering over her shoulder at me.
“What is he going to do to me?”
She looks me over in my shorts and baggy T-shirt, shaking her head with displeasure once again. “Look at you. Trying to hide your blessings beneath that shirt. When he tells you he’ll protect you under his watch, he means it. Don’t insult him.”
I frown. “That doesn’t answer my question.” I know she’s trying to find anything to criticize me about. Maybe that’s why she’s here so early. So she can see me in my ugliest form, with drool on my chin and knotted hair. So she can see me before I decide to primp myself.
She sighs, removing her hand from the doorknob. “He won’t touch you, if that’s what you’re thinking.” Then she grins. “But he will be sure to make you remember to never be late again.”
The way she says it sends goosebumps running down my arms and spine. How can this possibly flatter her? He had to have rescued her in some way.
Ronaldo said only people that he wants to call him by his real name can call him that. I figure the person has to be close to him or family. She’s clearly not family…so does it make them a couple?
Is she his whore?
I rush forward and slam the door and then lean against it as I stare out of the window. I can see the ocean from where I stand. It’s glorious this morning…but all this beauty is a façade.
All of this beauty represents lies. On the outside it may seem marvelous, but inside all you will sense is fear, lies, and even death.
I walk to the closet and decide to wear something a little nicer. I can’t walk around here looking like the desperate, scared girl. I have a backbone and I plan on using it.
There is a yellow dress I find as I skim through. It has bowties on the back, stops below the knee. I dress in it quickly, and then walk to the bathroom to brush my teeth and then my hair.
My chapped lips are starting to bother me.
I pick up the petroleum jelly and rub some on my lips. Walking back to the closet, I take down a pair of sandals and slide into them.
I check the mirror.
I look alive, to say the least.
It’s decent enough.
I walk to the door and pull it open. The hallway is clear so I make my way down. I hear pots and pans clanking, so I walk to the kitchen. Surely there’s a clock in there somewhere.
As soon as I make it down the staircase and to the kitchen, all of the maids stop working. They focus on me, studying my dress and especially my hair. Immediately, they start speaking Spanish, rambling on about a million things they probably think I don’t understand.
“Late.” Someone bumps into me from behind and when I see Patanza walk around with a cup in her hand, I scowl.
She shoves the cup into one of the maid’s hands and then folds her arms. My eyes bounce over her to check the clock on the wall.
“It’s only 8:30,” I state.
“Doesn’t matter. Late is late. Jefe doesn’t like it.”
“So…what does that mean?”
She shakes silently with laughter, and some of the maids avoid my eyes when I ask that. “You’ll find out.”
She walks around me, but before she can go, she says, “Oh, and dinner is at 7 p.m. sharp. No later.”
Yeah, I know that. “Do you think I can get a clock in the room I’m in or something?”
Patanza stares at me as if I’ve lost my mind, and then she starts laughing so hard that I cringe. “Wow,” she laughs again. She looks towards the maids while pointing a mocking thumb at me. “Can you believe this bitch? She’s just released from the cages and she’s already making requests. Fucking bold.”
The maids frown at Patanza before looking at me uncertainly. They are all confused. I don’t think they speak much English.
Patanza walks off quickly and I watch her open a door and shut it behind her. I look down at the floor, but when I feel eyes on me, I turn rapidly to look at the maids.
Startled, they jump right back into their work—scrubbing the counters, sweeping the floors, and washing the dishes.
I make way towards the dining room, down the long corridor. The french doors appear and I rush for them, pushing them open rapidly. The room is empty, but there is still food on the table.
One of the butlers picks up a silver tray at the end of the table and when he sees me walking in, he lifts a brow.
Heels click along the floor from a distance and then the young woman that was in my room not too long ago walks in from what I assume is another kitchen. I hear dishes clanking and people talking.
She slows her pace as she spots me, looking me over in my new attire.
She doesn’t make a disgusted face. She looks surprised.
“Can I eat?” I ask softly.
She scrutinizes me briefly before pointing her gaze to the table. She then looks at the butler who has a few dirty dishes in hand and murmurs something to him in Spanish.
The butler nods and then takes off, whistling in cue as he enters the kitchen.
Before I know it, at least four more men come out and collect the food that’s on the table. They grab the empty bowls, plates, and silverware but I rush forward before they can escape.
“Hey—wait!” I shout, but they merely ignore my plea, heading towards the kitchen without so much as a glance my way. “What the fuck!” I snap at her. “What did you tell them? I haven’t eaten yet!”
She picks up a biscuit from the last tray on the table. “You aren’t supposed to.”
“What?” My voice is laced with utter disbelief.
I shove past her and pick up a biscuit. She smacks it out of my hand and then picks up the tray. “You aren’t supposed to eat,” she bites. “If he finds out you’ve eaten on my watch, he’ll punish me too.”
“I don’t care. Starving me is cruelty,” I seethe, rubbing the back of my hand. “I didn’t know what time it was.”
“Get used to it.” Her eyes drop down to my chest and I back away, folding my arms.
She trots around the table and into the kitchen. When she’s gone, I stare down at the empty table. There are only crumbs left, and my heart cracks in my chest.
Tears blind me, but I won’t stick around here for them to see.
This is bullying. Pure ignorance. I twist around and storm out of the dining room, but due to my lack of attention, I run right into a sculpted, broad chest.
Large hands grip my upper arms, and I gasp as I look up and meet familiar, dark brown eyes.
Draco.
I yank out of his oddly gentle grasp, scowling up at him.
His face remains even, his lips meshing together.
“I didn’t get to eat,” I say without thinking.
“I don’t admire tardiness,” he informs me again, and then he steps around me, continuing his walk down the hallway. I watch him descend the hall and take the staircase down that leads to his art room. Not once does he look back at me.
My heart pounds erratically in my chest. Sniffling, I swipe my face before running down the hallway and up the stairs. There are maids and butlers around, but none of them look me in the face.
I bet they are trained to ignore stuff like this.
A lonely, desperate woman basically crying out for help. I go past six doors and burst into the seventh bedroom. This is the safest place as of now…but for how long?
When will he take this from me too?
I won’t be like that bitch that was here this morning. I won’t appreciate any of this. I won’t cater to that demonic man.
All he has done is taken from me. His men have abused me, and now he’s starving me.
Shit, he won’t have to protect me for long. Before we know it, I’ll be dead trying to make it out alive.
God.
I just want to go home.
To my surprise, an alarm clock is delivered to my room. Unfortunately, the tall, skinny man with the white hair is the deliverer.
“Here.” He drops it on the bed, standing close, looking at my bare legs. “Plug it in.”
I look down at the alarm clock. It’s black with silver buttons. Picking it up, I stand and turn for the nightstand. There is an outlet behind it, so I pull the stand forward a bit to reach it.
As I bend down, I feel him looking at my ass. He’s so close to me. My heartbeat accelerates, and not in a good way. I jam the plug into the outlet and then pull back, standing up straight and backing away.
“What time is it?” I ask, tilting my chin and gesturing towards his watch.
A smile twitches at the corners of his lips. “How about you find out for yourself.” He grabs my tender wrist and yanks me forward. His rough hands run up my forearm and I nearly stop breathing as his face comes in closer.
I focus on the floor. Bringing his wrist up, he says, “Look.”
My eyes drift down to the black leather watch. I take note of the time and then pull away from him, turning around and punching it into the alarm clock. I sit slowly, and he chuckles beneath his breath.
“Stupid bitch,” he grumbles in Spanish. “I don’t know why he’s saving you. Would be smarter to just pass you around and then sell you.” His heavy boots clomp across the floor and then he stops at the door. In English he says, “He doesn’t want you at dinner. Don’t come out until breakfast tomorrow.” With that, the door slams behind him and he’s gone.
The heavy atmosphere is sucked back out, but only some of it.
It’s still not safe.
Three steps.
Three footsteps are what it takes this person to go past my door and wait there. I don’t know what they’re waiting for. Frankly, I’m too afraid to go out and check. It might be the man with the white hair.
Or maybe it’s Axe Man lurking around, seeking revenge.
With a beating like that, I wouldn’t be surprised if he lost all respect for Draco. I haven’t seen him since the cells. I wonder if he’s even alive.
I check the al
arm clock.
2:08 a.m.
They wait there for nearly ten minutes, and with each minute my heart is pounding like a drum.
And then…with three simple steps, the person is past my door and walking down the hallway. I don’t hear the steps again for the rest of the night.
Chapter Nine
Day 8
I woke up at 7 a.m.
It is now 7:40 and I’m done getting ready. The short-sleeved blue dress I’m wearing is ironed. My hair has been French-braided down to the middle of my back, and my lips are glossed.
He can’t say I’m late today. I’m ready.
I collect all of the items I used from the bathroom counter and put them back in their places. When the bathroom is clean, I walk back out and make the bed. I glance at the alarm clock as I do. I have eight minutes to make it.
And I will.
I toss the pillows on and then I’m out of the door. I trot down the marble staircase with a great feeling. I can’t describe it, but I’m glad to be on top of things this morning.
I was hungry as hell last night and I still am today. I need food and I need it badly.
I can smell the breakfast as I walk down the hallway. The aromas are fresh and warm.
The french doors are already open so I walk right through them, but I immediately come to a halt as I spot Draco sitting at the head of the table, opposite of where I stand.
The young woman that I just met yesterday is two seats down from him and on the other side, right beside him, is the older woman I saw in the kitchen when Patanza first brought me here.
Draco has both arms on the armrest of his chair. His chair is much bigger than the rest of them. It’s almost like a throne, made of burgundy and black leather.
He tilts a brow as his eyes wander up and down my frame. He starts from my head and carries his gaze down to my feet. The older woman stares at me with utter confusion while the young woman from yesterday tries to act like I’m not even present.
I hesitate as I walk forward, unsure of where to sit. I don’t want to sit too close, so I take a seat near the end of the table.
