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“About your appearance.”
A furrow forms between her brows and she drags a hand through her hair and it’s nice but I need it to be lighter.
“What’s wrong with the way I look?”
My eyes narrow. “Everything.”
Her own eyes dart in shame but I don’t comfort her. She’s made a great effort to change her appearance. From her hair, to the way she dresses, to the way she wears makeup that is too harsh and makes her look older than she is.
It doesn’t suit her round features, her smooth skin and I feel a dent in my chest. She has worked hard to erase her past. But she should have known that the past can’t be erased. It always comes back to haunt.
And I will keep haunting her until she realizes that it is in the past that she belongs. And the future. A future that I want her to have with me.
When the doorbell rings, she straightens, her eyes widening in shock and I can almost distinguish her heart beating beneath her blouse. She’s suddenly motivated again, thinks that whoever is coming might help her out but that is not the case.
I’ve taken great precautions to make sure that nobody comes to her rescue. For a while, no matter how long or short I want to have her to myself.
“Aren’t you going to open?” she breathes and I nod then leave her to open the door. And I’m hoping she won’t try anything but I have a feeling I might be wrong.
****
“I have done as you asked,” Luigi says in Italian the moment he sees me and he flares out with his hands. “Though I do not understand why you wanted me to bring you dresses. Unless...” he pushes his sunglasses down, “have you met someone?”
“Thought I made myself clear,” I rasp. “I don’t appreciate questions. I need you to go in, keep your mouth shut, do your job, then get out.”
“Always in a bad mood,” he grunts but nods. I lead him into the bathroom and to my surprise Daphne is still waiting there. She looks almost docile and like she’s accepted her fate but at the sight of Luigi she yelps in relief.
“Help me, please help me.” She points at me. “This man is holding me captive.”
I scowl and Luigi glances at me in uncertainty. “What does she want?”
“Ignore her,” I snap and my eyes go to Daphne’s. “He doesn’t speak any English and even if he did your efforts would be useless. He is loyal to me.”
Indignant spots of red taint her cheeks and she looks down, her fists clenching and she looks like she’s on the verging of screaming. Fine by me. She can scream all she wants. Nobody who can help her will hear her anyway.
A look as if she’s decided that it’s best to play along flashes on her face. “What do you want me to do?” she murmurs and I nod at the chair I placed out for her.
“I want you to sit down.”
She pounces down, her mouth forming into a pucker and fuck it makes me hard. Grabbing the dresses that Luigi is holding I put them on the bed in my room, adjust myself then walk back inside. Luigi is standing behind her, inspecting her in a way that would have had me do murder if Luigi was the kind who liked women. He doesn’t, he likes men but I still don’t like it when he touches her shoulders.
“Beautiful like a doll,” he mutters and I nod, leaning against the sink. “But she looks a little distressed, no? Do you not know how to make her happy?”
“No questions,” I growl, “now do your job.”
He glares but starts running his fingers through her hair and I still need to look away. I’m only having him touch her because it is necessary.
“You want her to go blonde?” he asks and I nod again. He grimaces. “Shame. The jet-black hair is more striking. I suggest keeping the color and cutting it shorter, maybe into a sharp bob...”
“Cut it and I will kill you.” I cross my arms over my chest. “And like I said...I want it blonde.”
He hums irately but then he finally hurries up. Daphne looks to me but she allows him to do his job without fighting. Luigi grabs a wet wipe and starts removing the smudged makeup on her face and I feel myself tense.
There’s no coating around her eyes anymore and her brows aren’t as sharply defined.
Slowly, little by little, she will be revealed to me. It comforts my heart, loosens the strain that’s been put on it through all these years. Soon she will look closer to how I remember her. How I remember her before she was taken from me.
Five
