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Chapter Eight
Elena
Nausea courses through my entire body as I stand here in this manmade cage, wondering what my next course of action is. I’ve already taken a shower because much like the man said, I smelt like a pig.
My eyes scan across the iron bars and I focus intently on the locking mechanism, contemplating if there’s any way I can get out of my predicament.
I pace back and forth over the concrete floor, close my eyes and attempt to find some loophole where I can turn all of this back to be in my favor. Even in the most dire of situations I’ll try to find a way to get me out of all this.
“Fuck, there’s no way out of this.” I curse lowly under my breath, running my fingertips along the dress. Although, when I take a gander, I realize it’s conservative in a sense. A thick piece of fabric wraps around both of my shoulders, shielding anyone from getting a look at my breasts. However, the dress makes a sexier turn when it gets to my mid-thigh and begins to span down in an asymmetrical pattern.
Heavy footsteps make their way back down the stairs and the same man as before is true to his word. I still don’t know what to make of him. He said his name was Migual, but it isn’t much to go off. I know families like this have household staff, so naturally I assume that is his role. He must be Luca’s bitch.
He seems to be in his mid-thirties possibly, but there’s a young element to this man. Maybe it’s his chocolate brown curls on his head, or the dark hazel eyes. He doesn’t have any facial hair, which always makes men look like they’re young in my opinion.
“I’d expected you to be somewhat deviant. Yet, here you are, clean and in the dress Luca purchased for you.”
Every part of me wants to scoff, scream or yell, however I don’t. I hold back every urge in my bones and try to think of this in the smartest way I can— by complying. Being defiant won’t get me anywhere, although complying could give me an inch. Doesn’t mean I won’t take a mile instead.
“Yes, well, what’s the old saying? You can lead a camel to water, but can’t force it to drink. I’m the camel, and I made a choice to accept the parameters you’ve informed me about.”
Migual nods his head in a pleased manner, “Fabulous. Luca will be happy to see your . . . acceptance. He approaches the door of the cage, inserts a key and after he turns it, he presses his thumb on something and a beeping sound pops.
Wow. I didn’t have a clue they had double the security measures in place, but I’ll make mental notes of this.
Migual waves his hand, urging me to come over. “I’ll escort you upstairs so you may dine with Luca. However, I’d suggest you ensure you’re on your best behavior. There’s no saying how many days without food he’ll tack on if you act up. His record is seven days,”
I blink a few times while following Migual up the stairwell, pondering what he just said. It makes me think Luca has done this in the past . . . but surely he wouldn’t have just given me a bone to run with. If anything, it’s probably a test to trick me into asking one of my questions and wasting it.
Once we’re at the top of the stairwell, he walks with me to the dining room and pulls out the chair for me. I take my seat and all of a sudden I feel the chill of metal being clasped around my wrists. I see the handcuffs on my wrists and watch as he attaches another one to the short chain between them and clasps them to a hook on the table. I’m even more surprised than I was before and it takes me a moment to realize this wasaddedto Luca’s table. He customized it . . . which makes me wonder what kind of person I’m really dealing with.
I turn my body to face Migual before he walks away, “What the fuck are you doing?”
“He’s doing his job,” Another stern voice responds, sending a chill down my spine. His voice comes from behind me, which means I’m caught off guard and only makes me feel violated even more so. The way he spooked me scares me even more.
I don’t want to give him any attention given what he’s done, but the screeching of the wood against the floor causes me to shift my awareness to his direction. The two of us lock eyes with one another and the smug bastard smirks, obviously pleased with himself.
“I’ll be back in a moment with your dinner, Sir.”
“Gracias, Migual.” Ah, so the Romanian has learned to speak Spanish. If only I thought it was impressive.
For the next couple of minutes until Migual comes back with our food, I try desperately to avoid eye contact with the monster of a man sitting beside me. His eyes don’t waver from my body, taking me in like he’s never seen a woman ever in his life. Migual’s footsteps are the first thing I hear and I notice he has a covered dish he’s holding with his left arm. He walks around Luca, uncovers the dish and I see two bowls filled with some sort of white meat. I don’t recognize it, but the strong scent of paprika causes me to begin salivating.
“Are you going to uncuff me so I can eat?” I snap, glaring at the man who believes I should be confined like an animal.
Silently, I curse at myself when his eyes go wide and I’m sure he’s about to make a show of the dominance he has over me. “You’re more than welcome to eat, Elena, however you won’t be feeding yourself. I apologize, but I simply can’t allow you to do so yet. We have to establish some sort of trust before I let you hold a knife. Right now, I think we both know you’d stab me with it.”
I muster up the smile I’ve been faking my entire life, “Give me a fork and I promise I won’t stab it through your hand,”
“As lovely as your promise sounds, I won’t risk it. Here’s the deal, love. I either feed you, or you don’t eat. It must’ve been an incredibly long two days. I bet the headaches started coming in, your stomach got to the point where it stopped growling and you’ve felt aches you never knew could happen.
Fuck, I want nothing more than to rip the fork he’s just picked up and shove it through his fucking eyeball right about now. Using the one thing I need more than anything against me. I want to be a bitch, to rattle him in some way to his core and throw him off his game, but I know none of it will be possible unless I have energy . . . and how will I have energy if I don’t eat?
Luca picks up the fork, stabs whatever white meat is before us and brings it toward my mouth. Every part of me wants to not eat simply because he’s the one feeding me, but I can’t be a selfish brat right now.
I open my mouth and allow him to put the tangy, yet spicy meat in my mouth. There’s loads of paprika on the fish, or at least I believe it’s fish, and I sense the distinctive taste of olive oil. I chew a few times and am shocked with how it doesn’t take me longer to break it up, and swallow.
“Pulpo a la gallega, an octopus dish. Delicious, yes,” I don’t want to agree, but I nod, because it was delicious. He uses the same fork and takes a bite of it himself, and then gets another piece and offers it to me. “I figured you’d need something light but flavorful on your stomach.”
