Taken

by Esme Devlin

  The door slides open sideways, and I run my fingers along the cool tiles trying to locate a light switch. Moments later, the room illuminates in modern white spotlights and my suspicions are confirmed.

  A bathroom.

  I quickly relieve myself and then the find the biggest towel and wrap myself in it. As I’m washing my face, trying to get the clumps of last night’s mascara off my eyelashes, a noise in the room I’ve just come from startles me.

  A thousand different things run through my mind all at once, but I push every one of them away quickly. There is no point in hiding.

  He put me here.

  He knows I’m here.

  The only thing I can do now is find out what he wants.

  I emerge from the bathroom and am met with his back. He’s wearing a black suit, every bit as well tailored as the one he had on last night. I wonder if the man ever wears anything else?

  “Who are you?”

  He turns around at the sound of my voice, and just like the night before my breath catches in my throat at the sight of him. I remember what he did. He put his hands around my neck and he squeezed.

  It’s a sin; how a person so beautiful can mask such evil.

  “The name’s Julian. Julian Rinaldi.”

  His answer surprises me. Not because of the name, more so the fact he actually responded. I decide in that second I may as well keep going.

  “What am I doing here?”

  He doesn’t respond straight away, but I catch the hint of thinly veiled amusement written across his face. Is this a game to him?

  “You were always supposed to be here.”

  My eyebrow lifts involuntarily as I regard him. I can’t for the life of me work out what he means, and I hope my silence conveys that.

  “Sofia… you’re home.”

  I’m already shaking my head. This man… Julian. He is mad.

  There’s no other logical explanation. It doesn’t surprise me, though. I mean it takes a certain type of man to think they can buy a woman as if she’s nothing more than a gelding, or a fancy fucking watch. It takes an even more certain type of man to refuse to buy them and instead strangle them.

  “I don’t… I don’t understand. Please — I was never for sale. I work on the bar. I don’t… I don’t do that.” I can feel myself tripping over my words. I don’t know how much is too much, and how much more I need to say. What am I arguing for? My freedom? My virginity? My life?

  Julian just stands there looking at me, hands in his pockets, feet planted shoulder width apart.

  “I’ve left a dress on the bed for you. Put it on and come downstairs for dinner.”

  So it’s dusk then? I’ve slept the whole day?

  Surely that’s not right.

  “No.” I shake my head again, firmer this time. “No. I won’t do it. You need to let me go. I want to go home.”

  A smile tugs at his lips and I can’t get over how his reactions are so at odds with the situation. I can feel myself trembling, as if I’m a second away from unraveling completely, and him…

  He’s acting like he finds this entertaining.

  “Don’t make me repeat myself, Sofia. You are home. You have no other. Not anymore. Put the dress on, or come naked.” With a shrug, he turns and strolls towards the door, and just like that I’m alone again.

  I cross the room and slump down on the bed, the movement causing the garment bag to inch its way towards me. I need to think.

  Think, Sofia.

  But I get no time. Moments after Julian leaves, the door opens again and this time a woman enters.

  She’s small in height, and older. Like Julian, she’s dressed all in black, but unlike him her face is friendly. Round rosy cheeks give the impression she’s just ran up three flights of stairs. She takes in the room for a moment, and when her eyes land on me her face breaks into a smile.

  “Well, you’re a pretty one, aren’t you?”

  I’m not sure what to say, so instead I just blink.

  "Hmm. Cat got your tongue? That's alright. I guess it's all new for you." The woman comes over to the bed and picks up the garment bag, removing the dress and holding it up to inspect it. "The man knows how to choose a dress, I'll give him that. Suits your eyes damn near perfect."

  I look over the dress. It's long, ballgown style, and a deep shade of forest green.

  "I don't want to wear it. I want to go home. Please, you need to help me."

  The woman gives me a gentle smile, and I almost see a flicker of sympathy behind her eyes before she plops herself down on the bed next to me.

  "I can't help you get home, pet. Not unless Julian says so. But I can help you learn the way things work around here."

  I look around the room. "What is this place?"

  "This is the home of Julian Rinaldi. Does that name mean anything to you?"

  I shake my head. "I have no idea who he is, not before he walked in to Carpathia last night."

  "Interesting." She gives me an amused look and runs her hands over her skirt. "Well, I'm sure Julian will want to be the one to fill you in on all of that. But, if you want my advice, pet? Listen to him. Just do what he says, and with a smile on your face is best. He's a man who's well used to getting what he wants."

  Do it with a smile on my face? She can't be for real. I can feel myself getting more and more agitated. It’s like being in a pressure cooker, where no one else is feeling the heat except you. I want to scream.

  But I don’t.

  I remind myself I’m not a hot-headed person. What good would that do, hurling abuse at the maid?

  “I can't. Even if I wanted to... I still couldn’t.”

  I know what she’s telling me to do. Suck it up and survive. But how can I explain to her — a complete stranger — that I'm broken? I can't do men. I can't do one-night stands, I can't do relationships, and I certainly can't do whatever fucked up form of prostitution this is.

  She gets up from the bed, and I sense she's not going to pry any further.

  “Come. Give me that towel and we'll get you dressed. You've no time to shower, we can do that later before... bed.”

  I want to refuse, but I feel like I'm stuck between a rock and a hard place. What did Julian say? Wear the dress or come naked? I have no idea if he would follow through on that threat. And would this woman get into trouble if I didn't do as he said?

  “I don't even know your name?”

  She smiles while holding the dress outstretched in her arms. “I'm Mrs Fee. But you can call me Lydia.”

  “Lydia. I'm Sofia.”

  “Oh, pet. I know who you are.”

  Chapter 6

  JULIAN

  I'm standing by the fireplace in the dining room, a glass of whiskey in one hand and an unlit cigar in the other. The house is large, almost too large to keep appropriately heated in the dead of winter — even with the central heating working overtime.

  The house is an old one, built by a distant relative over three-hundred years ago. I've modernized as much as possible without losing the charm. The grand dining room is one of my personal favorites. A long dining table, big enough for forty guests (not that I’d ever entertain filling it), spans the length of the room. From the fresco painted ceiling hangs multiple chandeliers, although the light they give off is negligible at best and only serves to highlight the shadows of the high carved stone columns that hold the whole structure up. The place has a church like vibe, but darker than your average cathedral, and with the fireplace it’s a whole lot more intimate, too.

  Checking my watch, I hear a sound behind me and turn around to see Sofia standing in the doorway. The grandness of the room fades away to nothing at the sight of her. She’s wearing the dress I picked out — long and clinging and the color of pine trees at night. And she’s painted her lips red.

  She’s a vision of beauty.

  “Sofia.” I mutter the word under my breath as she takes a step into the room.

  “Mr Rinaldi.”

  Her curt tone
has my lips pulling up in a smile. “Please, call me Julian.”

  “I’ll do no such thing,” she snaps back.

  I must admit, I like her spirit. It’s never appealed to me to take a painted doll as a wife, and I have a feeling Sofia is anything but that. Slowly, I cross the room towards her and to my surprise she stands her ground.

  “You look beautiful, little bird.”

  She averts her eyes at the compliments and I watch her throat contract as she swallows.

  “What do you want from me?”

  I take her chin in my hand and tilt her head up, directing her attention back on me. Her face is set in a determined stare and her frustration is almost palpable. There’s something else behind her eyes though, a sadness?

  “I could tell you. I could tell you every sick and deprived thought that’s running through my head right now.” I smile as her eyes widen at my words. “But I fear my little bird would worry herself. I fear my little bird isn’t ready for that yet. So why don’t we eat and save the questions for later?”

  A sigh escapes her as she tries to shake her head and fails.

  I’m a patient man. I may lack the common morals most folks share, but I’m not a monster. I understand this is all new to her, and I’m willing to give her time to adjust.

  But I won’t sugar coat the truth of her fate just to make it an easier pill for her to swallow. There is no choice, not really. Not for me and certainly not for her.

  And I refuse to hide the type of man she’s found herself shackled to.

  “Sit.” I drop her chin and pull out the first chair on the left at the head of the table.

  She’ll sit at my side.

  “You expect me to eat with you after what you just said?”

  Well, I wasn’t sure whether to expect it, although I’d hoped for it. But since she says the words as she’s sitting down in the chair, I guess I’m not that convinced by her protests.

  “Would you have me lie to you?”

  “I’d have you let me go,” she snaps back.

  Once again, her harsh tone leaves me fighting amusement as I sit down at the head of the table. “Not an option, I’m afraid.”

  Mrs Fee enters the room with a silver dinner service, and I watch Sofia’s face. She looks like she’s not really here, staring off at some unknown spot on the shadowed wall. I wonder what the fuck is so interesting over there, but I bite my tongue.

  As soon as Mrs Fee leaves, her head turns back to me.

  “Why? Why isn’t it an option? Carpathia has other girls — I know that for a fact. I’ve tried to explain to you, I’m not one of those girls.”

  She still thinks this is about Carpathia.

  “You really are determined, aren’t you? I’ll talk when I see you eating.”

  Another sigh. If only she knew how endearing I found them.

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “And I’m not arguing.”

  She tilts her head to the side and considers me for a moment, and then, she picks up her spoon.

  Good girl.

  “Happy now?”

  I smirk. “Thrilled.”

  She makes a noise that could be half a laugh and then starts getting to work on the bowl of soup in front of her. Only when I can see the bowl half empty do I speak again.

  “This isn’t about Carpathia. I knew everything about you before I walked in the door.”

  Swallowing the mouthful, she turns her head towards me and raises a perfectly arched brow. “So, you’re a stalker then? Fantastic.”

  I shrug her off. “You can’t stalk what you can’t find, little bird.”

  “Hmm.” She takes another mouthful of soup and I can’t help watching her. I find her fascinating. I never thought there would be a time in my life when watching a girl shovel soup into her mouth would be so enjoyable — and yet here we are. “Why were you looking for me?”

  I think carefully about what I’m going to say next before I open my mouth. From the little I know of her, I can tell she’s stubborn. I wanted her to wear the dress, she said no. I wanted her to eat, she said no. Now she’s sitting in the dress and eating like she’s never had a hot dinner before, but that’s only due to gentle coercion.

  If I tell her what I want from her, she’s sure to say no.

  But gentle coercion is my favorite type of foreplay.

  Chapter 7

  SOFIA

  “Why were you looking for me?”

  His silver eyes narrow slightly and he regards me for long seconds, so long that I pick up my spoon again and resume eating.

  I don’t know what this soup is, but it’s absolutely divine. Carrot and something else, coriander? But it’s kinda sweet, too. The second I started eating, hunger took over my body and now I feel stupid for refusing it in the first place.

  I’ve made myself look like a petty child, and that wasn’t my intention.

  I need a plan, if I’m going to survive whatever this is. My only problem? I can’t plan anything when I don’t know what he wants.

  He clears his throat, and I’m on the edge of my seat hanging on to his next words.

  “I’ve been looking for you for years — ever since we lost you.”

  Lost me? Confusion washes over me, but then a lightbulb flicks on, and with it a flicker of hope.

  He has the wrong girl.

  “Wait… I think there’s been a mistake. I’m not who you’re looking for.”

  He raises both eyebrows at me and for a second I wonder if I’ve just fucked myself over.

  If I’m not the girl he’s looking for, what’s stopping him killing me?

  “Your legal name is Sofia Johnson, but you were born Sofia Romano. Your parents were Joe Romano and Emma Miller. Your father died when you were four, and your mother moved you across the country with your stepfather, Derek Johnson.”

  I feel the tiny hairs on my neck and arms rise with every sentence. “You knew my father?”

  “Very well. And I knew you.”

  I shake my head. “I don’t remember.”

  He shrugs and smiles. “I don’t expect you to… you were a baby.”

  “None of that answers my original question. What am I doing here?”

  “I told you… you’re home.”

  I shake my head at him. “So I can leave?”

  He smirks at me from across the table and then extends his hand and grips my wrist. Heat rushes up my arm like fucking electricity and I don’t know what’s happening to me.

  I don’t like men touching me.

  Ever.

  Doesn’t matter how handsome, or how charming-in-a-dickhead way they are.

  “No. Your father wanted our families to join, and I intend to make good on the promise my father made him.”

  “Join? You mean…”

  He nods before I can get the words out.

  This is… This is too much. Yesterday I was a relatively normal (okay, a little fucked up) girl, making plans to escape the town that had caged me for as long as I can remember.

  And now I’ve found myself in another cage. A golden one, filled with silk and pretty dresses, and a jailor so handsome he threatens to send rational thought fleeing from my brain.

  “What makes you think I’ll agree to any of this madness?”

  “Where do you want me to start?” He leans back in his chair, releasing me and resting his elbow on the arm while stroking his stubble — the same way he did last night. “You’ll agree because I’ll give you everything you’ve ever wanted, everything you didn’t even know you wanted. You’ll agree because you have monsters, demons, and I’m the only man with the power to remove them. You’ll agree, because like it or not, I’m about to become the center of your world. I’m the earth, and you’re the moon and all the stars. But make no mistake, little bird. Your agreement isn’t essential, nor will it change a thing.”

  I sit back in my chair, slightly stunned and more than a little breathless. There is one thing that stood out to me; the part about my demons.


  Does he know? About Derek?

  And what does he mean about removing those demons?

  But asking for more would give him the impression I can be swayed over this.

  “You’re insane.”

  Far from the reaction I had expected, Julian chuckles and shrugs his shoulders. “And you will love me, anyway.”

  It’s been three days.

  I feel like a single marble rolling around inside of a big empty oil drum. Julian left our dinner during the main course, with the excuse of urgent business. I haven’t seen him since.

  And the worst part about it is I don’t know whether to feel relieved or angry.

  Yes, a smart and normal girl would be relieved. The man snatched me — hell, he fucking strangled me. He told me (in admittedly more flowery language) that I am his prisoner, and I can’t ever leave. I should be relieved that I’ve not seen him since.

  Except I can’t fight the hurt and anger inside of me. Maybe I’m just lonely. Maybe his insanity has rubbed off on me a little. All I know is he took me, and then he left me without a second thought. And that annoys me. I’m a human being, not a doll to dress up and leave sitting on the shelf when you’re bored with it.

  I finish my hour long bath and wrap myself in the white fluffy robe. Every night, I have dinner alone in my room, curtesy of Lydia. I have free roam of the house, but I prefer it in here. After the first day, where I explored every inch of the place that wasn’t locked (and met ten or so armed guards in the process), I’ve mostly kept myself to my room or the library.

  Sometimes in the mornings I’ll sit in the kitchen with Lydia while she cooks.

  It’s become somewhat of a routine for me. Dinner, bath, library and bed. Tonight, I’m tired. It’s amazing how doing so little can leave you so exhausted. Sometimes I pretend I’m on a spa retreat… or that I have a high-flying professional job and I’m merely staying alone in a luxury hotel for business.