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Last night, she watched me as I beat off to the image of her perfect pussy. Her gaze was full of shock and curiosity. It took me forever to fall asleep, wondering what she would do if I touched her. I never expected her to spy on me, or watch me through the door, but she shocked the hell out of me. Maybe it was a game. Maybe she was trying to test me.
Leaning back in my chair, I think back to this morning and how I tortured myself further. Forcing myself to stand outside the shower and watch as she washed her gorgeous body. She looked like a goddamn angel, and I hate it. Every time I look at her, I see a young woman I want to break and destroy. This is revenge, plain and simple. Any sliver of kindness died the day my mother did.
I see her father standing over my dead mother’s body, and I feel shame for not reacting sooner. I feel like a fucking failure for not protecting my mother, and I will never allow myself to feel that way again. Elena is a means to an end, and breaking her heart is inevitable. She will become a casualty of war, and there is nothing I can do about it.
The minutes tick by slowly, and I go over the books one more time, double-checking to make sure that I’ve received dues from every location in my territory. I’ll need to send Markus out to the new businesses so he can let them know how this works. They’ll choose either to stay and pay dues or leave.
Grabbing my cell, I call Markus. The phone rings twice.
“Yes, boss.”
“There are three businesses that are new on the east side of town. I will send you the names of each of them. I want you to go in and let them know the rules, tell them what they need to do, and show them what happens if they don’t.”
“Of course.” I can almost hear the joy in his voice. Markus doesn’t show emotion often, but I imagine he smiles while delivering my messages.
“Let me know if there are any problems,” I tell him and hang up.
Logging back into the security app, I find Elena sitting on the edge of the bed cross-legged. She’s just sitting there, doing nothing, looking completely unaffected by the fact that she is all alone.
It angers and interests me all at once.
She doesn’t seem to be bothered by the silence of the room, and I wonder why that is? She should be going insane, beating on the door, begging for me to let her out.
I knew her father kept her on lockdown in his house, but maybe it was more than that. Had her father locked her up in her bedroom, kept her a prisoner like she is here? Clearly, she’s conditioned, which is putting a real damper on my plan.
Checking the time, I realize it’s almost lunch. Pushing up from my chair, I walk to the kitchen where Martha–one of the older maids–is just putting everything on a tray.
“I’ll take it to her today,” I tell her. Her mouth opens to say something, but she quickly changes her mind, closes her mouth, and simply nods instead.
Carrying the tray of food, I walk through the house and up to the bedrooms. I catch myself being eager to get to her, and that thought has me slowing down. I can’t have her get to me like that. No one controls me.
I unlock the door while balancing the food with my free hand. When I step inside, Elena jumps up from the bed. Her eyes go wide as she takes me in; clearly, she didn’t expect me to deliver her lunch.
She doesn’t say anything as I carry the tray to her, placing it on the bed beside her.
“Please don’t tell me you were expecting someone else?” I say.
“I just thought the maid brought me my lunch. I didn’t know you were here.”
“You sound disappointed.”
“Just surprised.” She shrugs. Without looking up at me, she takes the sandwich from the plate and starts nibbling on it. As I stand there towering over her, I’m burdened with the need to understand her.
“You seem accustomed to being alone.”
“Because I am,” she simply states. “I would appreciate being able to go out for walks and explore the grounds when I want to.”
“Like I said–”
“Yes, I know.” She glances up at me, her thick lashes fan against her cheeks. “Listen, obey, behave, then freedom. In that order.”
I’m not sure if I’m mad or impressed that she dared to interrupt me. I don’t even remember the last time someone did that without dying immediately after.
“Did your father not teach you any manners?”
Her cheeks turn crimson. “I’m sorry.”
Her apology is genuine, and I’m not sure what to make of it. Hell, I don’t know what to make of any of this. She’s nothing like I expected her to be, and I need to get out of this room and away from her. She draws me in, and I won’t be made a fool of, least of all by her.
