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“I thought…”
“You thought I killed her?” He arches a brow in questioning.
I feel ashamed to admit it, but nod since there isn’t any point in lying to him. Julian is cruel, sinister, and I know he wouldn’t hesitate to kill someone. Man or woman.
“I didn’t kill her… but your concern for her well-being is interesting.”
“Interesting?”
“Maybe that’s not the right word. Convenient would be better.”
“What that’s supposed to mean?” I’m almost afraid to find out.
“At the event I’m taking you to, I need you to behave. I need you to act a certain way and do things you might not want to do, but you will do them because if you don’t, Marie might get hurt.” The words slowly enter my mind, and I piece the puzzle together.
“You’re using her against me,” I growl angrily.
“Yes, but I will not harm her if you behave, and I will reward you. I will give you more freedom. All you have to do is prove yourself to me.”
“Prove myself? What does that even mean?” I toss my hands into the air. “I’ve never done anything for you not to trust me. I’ve played all your games, never fought you on anything. I let you keep me in your bedroom without complaining. I think I’ve proven myself enough… maybe you are the one who needs to prove himself to me.”
As soon as the last bit leaves my mouth, I regret saying it. Not because it’s not true, but because I don’t want to provoke Julian.
His crystal blues become stormy, and my eyes move to his hands that curl into tight fists. Sometimes things seem so perfect, and I think maybe I can reach him, and then he says or does something, and I’m back to being hopeless.
“Have I not proven to you that I can be kind? That I’ll take care of you? That you can trust me? Have I lied to you? Hurt you?”
“No…” My shoulders sag down, and I turn my head away, unable to look at him longer. No, he hasn’t physically hurt me, and he has shown me kindness in his own way, but I can’t help but expect more. Maybe that’s my problem. I shouldn’t expect more from a man who bought me.
Everything he does is to ensure that I behave, and now he is using Marie as extra insurance. I don’t like it, not at all, holding another person’s life in my hands, but what option do I have? Either way, Marie ends up hurt, and I could never sleep at night knowing that I cost someone else their life.
“I already told you. It’s not always going to be like this. You won’t always be locked in this room, but I need to know that I can trust you, and this event is going to be the perfect way for you to gain that trust.”
“I understand, but I’ve been here for weeks. I haven’t tried to escape… I’ve listened.” Reasoning with Julian is like trying to reason with a bull. It’s pointless, and you’ll probably end up dead before you get anywhere.
Julian’s gaze softens at my words.
“Do this for me, okay? Behave, don’t fight, and I will give you freedom.”
“Okay,” I say, my voice dripping with defeat.
“Are you hungry?”
“Yes, very. It’s late.” I get up from the bed and grab his hand naturally. I know he only holds my hand when we walk through the house, so I won’t run away. He likes me to be anchored to him. So he can control me, but today I’m imagining that he is just holding it because he wants to. It’s the one thing that makes me feel like I’m not just his prisoner.
He leads me through the house and into the dining room. It’s already dark outside, and probably cold with the sundown. So, I’m not surprised we are staying inside.
The table is set as always with the dishes covered and ready for us to dive into. He pulls a chair out for me, and I take my seat while he takes the one beside me. As always, he serves the food, which is grilled salmon and a variety of vegetables tonight.
Setting my plate down in front of me, he asks, “Would you like some wine?”
“I’m not old enough,” I respond.
He laughs and cocks a brow. “You’re old enough to marry but not have a glass of wine?”
Deciding to jump out of my comfort zone, I grab the wine glass in front of me and hand it to him. His eyes twinkle with amusement, and I’m pretty sure I like that look more than I like any other he’s ever given me.
Popping the cork on the bottle of wine, he pours the smooth red liquid into the wine glass, filling it about halfway before passing it back to me.
Bringing my lips to the rim, I take a small sip, wrinkling my nose at the fruity scent that invades my nostrils. There is a bitter tanginess left in my mouth after I swallow, and I shiver, unsure if I like it or not.
