Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 64176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 321(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 321(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
Except for comfortable shoes, I realize, as I take in the cubbies with their designer shoes, boots, high-heeled sandals adorned with jewels. It even smells good in here.
I grew up with money and never lacked anything, but this kind of money, it’s different than what we had at home and different than what we had with my uncle.
And I don’t want any of it.
I’m his prisoner. He’s made no qualms about that. But he wants me to wear nice things?
Shaking my head, I’m about to walk back out into the bedroom when I see the silk robe hanging behind the door. I pull it off the hanger and drop the towel, putting it on over my underthings. I don’t shower and I won’t wear his clothes just as I won’t eat his food.
I pick up my toiletry bag and head into the bathroom to at least brush my teeth before returning to the bedroom to wait.
10
Cristina
I don’t realize I’ve dozed off until the key in the lock rouses me. I’m confused and disoriented. My stomach hurts from hunger, and when I finally open my eyes, I see the door open.
Sitting up, I tug the robe closer, pulling the long sleeves into the palms of my hands.
Elise walks in first, followed by Damian who is looking at something on his phone. He leans against the wall, his attention on whatever he’s reading.
I watch him stand there. He’s in the same sweater and jeans as earlier, his dark hair slightly tousled like he was just outside. I shift my gaze to his hands, his fingers working quickly to type out his message. I think about those hands. About how he pinned me down. How he must have touched me with them when he undressed me. I wonder if he used his damaged one.
He glances up before I can avert my gaze. He looks me over and raises an eyebrow I guess at the robe. I turn away to look at the older woman. She’s got an irritated look on her face and shakes her head at Damian.
“Was there something wrong with the food?” Damian asks me in a clipped tone.
I rub my face, feeling groggy, seeing how the sun is setting from the window. How long have I been asleep?
I glance through the open door. The corridor is dark, barely lit. I could try to make a run for it.
And go where?
“I asked you a question,” Damian says.
I turn to him. “I’m not eating food from a man who drugged me.”
“Then you’ll be very hungry. Take it away.”
“Yes, sir.” Elise picks up the tray and leaves with it.
I squeeze my stomach muscles to keep them from rumbling as she goes. I can’t remember the last time I ate.
“Does she ask how high when you tell her to jump, or does she just start jumping?” I ask when he closes the door behind her.
Damian is watching me, eyes a cool slate. I’m trying to figure out what the different shades mean. So far, I know black is bad. He doesn’t seem angry now, though.
“You’re stubborn, Cristina.”
“Did you expect me to be cooperative when you kidnapped me?”
He walks toward the bed, and I press my back into the headboard, every hair on my body standing on end. I’m afraid of him. I hate myself for it, but I am.
His gaze slides over me, then returns to my face.
“I hoped you wouldn’t be, honestly, and you haven’t disappointed.”
“Where am I?”
“You’re on Di Santo property.”
“And where exactly is that?”
“A few hours north of the city.”
“How did you do it? With all those people watching.”
He shrugs a shoulder, walking to the window and looking outside. “Those sort of things are easy.”
“Someone must have called the police.”
“Your view of the forest and mountain surrounds the whole of the house,” he says, ignoring my comment. “Do you like it?”
“Do I like my prison?”
He turns to me, and I think he’s seriously waiting for an answer.
“No,” I say.
“That’s too bad.”
“Are you trying to tell me there’s nowhere to go?”
“Why aren’t you dressed? Have you showered like I asked?”
“Why do you feel the need to lock me in if there’s nowhere for me to go?” I ask, ignoring his questions because no, I have not showered, and I wonder if that was wise.
“Have you showered, yes or no?”
“I want to call my cousin. Tell him I’m okay. He’s probably worried sick—”
“I’ve asked you twice now if you showered.” He sounds calm, but I already know that with this man, a calm exterior means anything but underneath.
My eyes itch, so I rub them. “I fell asleep.”
He glances at the empty bottle of water beside the bed. It’s the only thing I took off the tray. “Hmm.” He walks into the bathroom, and I hear the shower go on. I eye the door again, but he’s back before I can think about slipping out.