AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Though I’m not delusional. We’re in the middle of the suburbs, surrounded by open land I assume belongs to the man keeping me captive. The driveway stretched on forever, at least half a mile from the main road. I’m nobody’s idea of a track star. I doubt I’d get too far before somebody caught me. But who knows? I might see an opportunity somewhere.
As much as I don’t look forward to seeing Luca, my stomach is practically screaming for food. I didn’t exactly eat much last night, even though I made it a point to put on a show. Like there was absolutely nothing weird or wrong or uncomfortable about the situation. The food tasted like sawdust, no matter how I pretended to enjoy it.
I open the bedroom door slowly, listening hard for footsteps on the shining wood floor. When I don’t hear anything, I take it as a good sign and open the door wider, sticking my head out and looking in both directions. The hallway is practically endless. I hear voices coming from downstairs, but it sounds like general chatter, nothing to be overly worried about. That helps me relax a little. If this douchebag doesn’t have a reason to take his anger out on me, so much the better.
Now that I’m not getting hurried around like I was yesterday, I take the time to examine my surroundings a little better. The walls of the hallway are decorated with paintings—nice ones, too. These aren’t tacky prints somebody picked up at a thrift store. Fresh flowers sit in vases on tables spaced evenly along the hall’s length. I lean in and breathe deep, inhaling the heavenly aroma of roses and peonies.
It seems like a lot of effort for just one person. I haven’t seen signs of any other family members living here. Maybe that errand boy of his does, but that’s it. Otherwise, there’s the guards. Maybe they have rooms here, too. There’s enough of them, God knows. An entire army could camp under this roof and I’m sure there would be plenty of room for more.
Who needs this much all for themselves? What a waste. When I think of how I’ve had to scrimp and save, skipping meals, robbing Peter to pay Paul. And here’s this vicious monster in this palace, all by himself.
The guard posted at the foot of the stairs widens his eyes in obvious surprise when I jog down to the first floor. “Good morning,” I make it a point to say, which obviously surprises him even more. That’s sort of fun. Shaking things up a little bit. There’s another black-clad man standing by the front door—I wonder if there’s always somebody posted there. I’ll have to make it a point to watch and see. Maybe there’s a time that door isn’t guarded.
There are plenty of eyes on me as I explore, but nobody makes a move to stop me. “Where’s the kitchen?” I ask one of the men, who turns red and stammers before pointing down yet another hallway in this maze of closed doors and painting-lined passages. It’s like living in a damn museum. I could never be comfortable in a place like this. There’s nothing even remotely cozy about it, nothing warm or inviting. I can’t imagine unwinding here at the end of a long day, that’s for sure.
The kitchen, however, is another story. I practically salivate on seeing it, and not because of any delicious smells coming from the oven. My eyes dart from one appliance to the next. A six-burner range, a giant pizza oven carved into one of the walls. Two refrigerators, side-by-side, glass doors giving me a look at all the food inside. There’s so much of it. There’s a pantry door beside that, and I see rows of boxes and jars and cans from where I’m standing. A shining espresso machine sits on one counter, and next to that is a juicer currently being used to squeeze oranges.
The woman using it jumps a little when she glances my way and finds me watching. “Oh. Hello.”
“Good morning. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” She’s an older lady, her dark hair streaked with gray, and she has a nice smile. I would almost call her maternal.
“Not at all.” I would also call her confused as hell. “I’m sorry, I was unaware Mr. Bruno had a guest.”
I guess news doesn’t travel too fast. I wonder what she’d say if I told her why I’m here. Then again, for all I know, she’s well aware of the sort of stuff her boss gets up to. I guess there’s a trade-off when a person works a job like this. I wouldn’t blame her if she knew. A person does what they have to do to get by, after all. That doesn’t mean I completely trust her.
“I don’t need anything much. I’m just a little hungry.” There’s a big bowl of fruit on the granite-topped island across from the stove. “I can do with this for now.” I grab a banana.
“Nonsense. You need a proper breakfast. How do you prefer your eggs?” Okay, maybe I like her a little bit. She’s already at the sink, washing her hands, prepared to jump into action.
And she would, too, if it wasn’t for somebody clearing their throat behind me. I turn around, expecting to find Luca glaring at me, but it’s his errand boy, instead. “The boss wants to see you,” he informs me in a flat voice.
“Here I am,” I respond with a wide smile. “I was about to have breakfast.”
“Not until he sees you.” He glances toward the clock. “I’ll take that to him, Nora.” He extends a hand, crooking his fingers, and I realize he means the juice she just finished preparing. She pours it into a glass and hands it to him. He then grunts at me before turning on his heel and starting in the direction of what I assume will be Luca’s study. I’m nowhere close to understanding the entire layout of this place, but I vaguely remember where that room sits.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur to Nora, even though I have no idea why. “Hopefully I’ll be back.” She looks sympathetic when she nods. I wonder how much she’s seen around here.
Still holding my banana, I follow him down the hall. Part of me wants to ask what it feels like to be Luca Bruno’s personal servant, but instinct warns me against antagonizing the guy. I can’t help remembering how rough and uncaring he was with me in the car after he yanked me off the street. There’s no telling what he’s capable of.
“Here she is,” he grunts as we enter the study. Luca is at the desk, and it’s a miracle I don’t burst into flames on crossing the threshold.
His eyes flash fire, boring holes into me. “Who said you have free run of the house?”
“Nobody did,” I admit. “But nobody told me I had to stay upstairs, either. I was hungry. Still am.”
“Unless I summon you to dine with me in, your meals will be brought to you.”
“I’m not even allowed to come downstairs?”
“Are you a little slow on the uptake?” he taunts, snarling. So he’s in a really great mood today. “That’s exactly what I’m telling you. No wandering around, no talking to the guards. You stay in your room. End of story.”
Calm down. Don’t do this. I look down at the banana I’m still holding and find my fingers pressing hard enough to split the peel. This is not a man I need to be mouthing off to. I know that. But damn, it’s so tempting.
“Can I have some books up there, maybe?” I venture. “Or a TV? There’s nothing to do. I’ll go crazy.”
“And exactly how is that my problem?” He’s dressed much the way he was yesterday, in a dark suit, his white dress shirt open at the collar. Why is he so formal, I wonder? Is he that committed to his image? He snaps his fingers and I realize I’ve been staring at him for too long. “Hello? Didn’t you hear me?”
“I hear just fine,” I grit out, teeth clenched. Stand down, idiot, don’t give him an excuse to hurt you.
