AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I pour myself more tea to wash it all down, holding my cup and scooting out of the bed as Rosa approaches, ready to strip the sheets. My face feels hot as she does it. Nothing even happened in this bed, and yet it feels like she’ll somehow be able to know, like I’ve left some kind of stain, some mark of how fucked up I am that I submitted to Elio so easily last night.
No! It wasn’t that easy. I tried to fight. I…
I don’t even know what happened. All I know is that it can’t happen again.
I think about that – submission, and whether that’s truly what I did – for most of the day as I sit alone in my room. Elio doesn’t come to me, and neither does Valentina. Rosa brings me lunch (the most amazing pesto chicken and mozzarella sandwich on fresh bread) and dinner (equally amazing braised lamb with potatoes and vegetables) but otherwise I see no one. I keep expecting Elio to show up, but it seems that what he said yesterday was true. He won’t just be hanging around me all the time waiting for me to pick up my violin and play for him. I’ll have to take whatever opportunities I can when they come to try to make a dent in the debt.
And I’ll have to play out of his reach next time.
By 9pm the solitude is starting to grate on my nerves. And so is what happened last night. The more I think about it, the more I can’t deny how much more I could have done to stop him. If I’d truly wanted to, I could have pulled away. I could have pushed him, kicked him, bit him. I could have told him no.
I go over and over the interaction in Elio’s room last night, hoping I’ve just forgotten the moment I told him to stop. But I didn’t forget it. Because I never fucking said it.
And suddenly, I can’t sit here like his good little prisoner anymore. I have to prove to him, and maybe even more to myself, that I’m not going to be bent to his will that easily.
I stomp into the bathroom for a shower. I choose the shower this time because I can hang towels precariously from the glass that juts out from the walls and create at least some semblance of privacy. As I toss towels up over the glass with awkward, grunting movements, I wonder if he’s watching me even now. I wriggle out of my clothing inside the shower then toss it out, wondering if I should try to sell him this pair of underwear as well.
And then I wonder who the hell I have become to even consider such a thing.
As I scrub myself, I wonder if Elio knows I’m showering. If, right now, his dark eyes are glued to a screen somewhere. I wonder if he’s pissed about my towel barriers.
I wonder if his dick is hard. If his leather-encased fist is gripping it, stroking it, running firmly from thick veiny shaft to smooth tip. If he’s going to come just knowing that I’m naked and wet in his house.
A resounding pulse between my legs makes me even more angry than I was before. I turn the water to the coldest setting, yelping at the contrast from the warmth. I force myself to wash in that cold water until I’m shivering, then I yank down one of my hanging towels and wrap it around myself, heading for the closet. I pull on a soft cotton T-shirt (there are bras, but none of them are the correct size, so I skip that) then a pair of silk underwear and slouchy pair of sweatpants.
Fully dressed now, my hair soaking the back of my shirt, I head through my bedroom and into Elio’s. I don’t stop until I’m at the door.
The door the leads into the rest of the house.
I’ve never heard anyone lock or unlock it. I also haven’t been told to stay in here, though it feels like an unspoken rule. But that’s exactly why I need to break it. To prove I still have half a goddamn brain in there. To prove that there’s still some spirit that will fight back inside me.
My heart careens wildly in my chest, and I’m terrified that I’m going to regret this, but I do it anyway.
I pull on the door handle and open the door.
I tense, holding my breath, half-expecting Elio to be there, just waiting for me to try something like this. But he’s not. There’s nobody except for a guy at the top of the stairs in a black dress shirt and black trousers. He’s alert, watching me closely, but he doesn’t tell me to get back inside the room. Emboldened, I hold his gaze and step forward, one foot in the room and one foot out.
He still doesn’t say anything, and with a shuddering breath, I step all the way out.
I fight to keep the grin off my face. This feels like a victory, no matter how small. I’ve stepped out of the room. Now it’s time to see just how far I can go.
I turn towards the staircase, and the guard there, and start walking. The closer I get, the more my stomach twists and my nerves jangle. It’s like this guy is staying still and quiet to lull me into a false sense of security so that he can grab me and bring Elio down on my head.
But even as I pass by him, my breath strangling in my throat, he doesn’t touch me. I notice that he does follow me down the stairs, but otherwise he makes no move to stop me.
Which must mean…
He’s been ordered to let me walk around as I please.
This jolts me into confusion. It almost makes me stop halfway down the stairs. The fact that Elio doesn’t mind if I leave the room and wander around his domain. I figured this was, well… not allowed, or something.
I’m about to be grateful to him again, like I was with the tea, but I fiercely tell myself not to be. Elio is not deserving of my gratitude. I shouldn’t be thankful I can walk around this house, gorgeous though it is. He’s the one who’s reduced me to being stuck here in the first place.
The guard from the top of the stairs continues trailing me as I wander. I pass by the front door and cringe when I remember what happened there, what must have been seen on the cameras. When Elio stroked my nipples into aroused hardness after putting in the earrings that are currently on a bedside table upstairs.
I make my way into the kitchen and gape. I’m not a master chef or anything, but I do enjoy cooking, and this is the most insane kitchen I’ve seen. A massive black granite island floats in the middle, matching the glittering black granite countertops that go along one long end of the open space. Even with all the black, the space doesn’t feel cold. The cabinets are a warm natural wood, and there’s soft lighting built in everywhere. The fridge is huge – one of those super wide double door stainless steel ones. Most of the other appliances are stainless steel, too, including a very complicated looking espresso machine. Everything is sleek and modern. Except for the stove. I’m sure it’s new and seriously expensive, but it has an almost vintage look to it with shiny brass knobs and a gas range top.
I eye the guard who has now stationed himself with his arms crossed at the island I’ve passed. He doesn’t say anything or do anything else to stop me, so I give an internal shrug and head for the fridge. I yank it open, gawking at how much stuff is in this gigantic cooling contraption. Elio did say that there were soldiers stationed all over this house, and I wonder if Rosa cooks for all of them. There’s a ton of prepared food in here, containers of meat and pasta and jars of sauces, as well as a small grocery store’s worth of raw ingredients – fresh herbs, cheeses, cream. I expect to see tomatoes in here but I don’t, and I realize there are tomatoes in a bowl on the countertop. That bowl of beautiful colour lends the spotless kitchen a sense of hominess that feels almost comforting, and I shove it away.
