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I mean, did he even really live here?
It didn’t look like it.
The beer in his mini fridge was probably a hundred years old and he had very few personal items. There was only one framed photo, of him when he was a kid with another boy. Their arms were slung around each other, bright grins on their faces, even though their eyes were a bit wary, as if, even at a young age, they’d seen dark things.
The rest of the room had very little personality, with grey and black overtones, framed artwork that might show up in any hotel, and a large, comfy bed. The only interesting thing about it was the shelf of books that looked like it hadn’t been touched in years.
It was also spotless.
Well, that was before I got here. Ha.
Now it was a mess.
I mean, don't get me wrong. I was, possibly, a bit spoiled by my Papa. I mean, maybe I was the apple of his eye, the jewel of his crown, the center of his heart. After my mama died, my Papa made sure I had everything I needed. I had no limit on my spending, and had private tutors in art, computer science, and the piano.
He also gave me the large garden in the middle of our courtyard, allowing me to take over my mama’s old hobby and grow it into my own personal garden of Eden.
However, I was still responsible. Without mama, I took on the responsibilities of taking care of my precious Papa, cooking and cleaning after him better than any old maid.
But. Kidnapping men didn’t get the same treatment.
I grinned as I took in the sight of my new bedroom. Prince Charming’s clothes were randomly thrown about, along with his fancy watches and ties. The pictures on the wall were now all upside down. My bra hung from the light fixtures and hair ties were on the knobs of his dresser. A pair of his boxer briefs were stretched across the top of a lamp.
I’d also casually tossed the boring-looking books off his shelves and placed those that looked interesting enough to read in a pile by his bed.
If he was going to keep me locked up in here, the least I could do was entertain myself.
And, admittedly, I was having a little bit of fun.
I laid back on Prince Charming's mattress, holding a book in my lap and lit one of the cigarettes from the pack I’d found in my old room.
I wasn't much of a smoker, but the smell reminded me of my Papa.
After breathing in the pungent smell of herbs, I crushed the tip on his nightstand and took a swig of the ridiculously expensive wine that I’d found hidden under his bed.
I’d had to smash the top of the bottle open, leaving the neck with the cork still inserted on the counter. So, the edges of the glass bottle were jagged and sharp, but that didn’t deter me.
And Lord, the taste was to die for. The silky flavor slid down my throat. So rich. So sensual, it tasted like I was touching the very soul of my bendito Dios, Himself.
Or maybe I was a bit tipsy, I wasn’t quite sure.
I took another sip, then squinted my eyes, trying to see how much I’d already drunk.
It looked about half-way full.
I frowned, disappointed. I was certain I’d had more, but, no matter, I’d fix that soon enough.
I stared down at the book delicately placed on my stomach, trying to read it, but the words were a little bit fuzzy.
The lock jingled and my eyes shot to the clock, hoping it was the cook who would talk to me sometimes. Unfortunately, it was too late for Marisol, unless she was bringing me a two a.m. snack.
Which would be perfect, actually. I did miss my chili and lemon peanuts.
The door slammed backward and my hope was squashed when Prince Charming himself appeared in the doorway.
He leaned against the doorjamb, blinking lazily as his eyes roamed the room. Pride filled me as his face grew darker and darker.
He didn't like what I'd done to his room.
