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“Mhm,” I murmur, chewing the next bite he’s given me.
“You still have two questions you may ask, Elena.”
Ah, he’s right. For a few moments I stare at him with only silence between us, figuring out how I should word this in a way that it’ll give me as much information as possible. “How long have you been planning to do this to me? I mean, you have a cage and all of that.” I speak clearly, yet attempt a nonchalant tone, like I really don’t care too much. But honestly, I care far too much than I care to admit.
Luca surprises me with jovial laughter, so much that he covers his mouth and excuses himself. “It’s adorable how you believe you’re the first,”
I furrow my brows together, “I’m not the first woman you’ve had in . . . there?”
“No. With my calculations you’re the eighth.”
My heart beats heavily in my chest, like a drum in a marching band. All I can think is how there’s no remnants of the women who were here before me. He could be bluffing. It’s possible he just lied and he only created this for me, but somehow I believe he’s telling the truth. I just wonder if these women are dead. The harsh reality is that they’re dead. I want to ask if they died because they couldn’t love him by the time he demanded of them and that was the price they paid . . . but how wasteful of my last question that would be.
“You’re itching to ask me that last question of yours. I can read it clearly on your face,” He states, picking up another piece of octopus, he brings it close to my mouth and I open like an obedient little dog.
I chew the food in my mouth, swallow and muster up the strength to ask him the one question I’m afraid to. Not because of the question, but the answer. “What do I need to do to earn my freedom?”
Luca places his elbows on the table, inching his face closer to mine. He brings his hand up, grazes his fingertips along my cheek and tucks my hair behind my ear. “Oh, Elena. I thought you’d understand this all by now. Your freedom is your life with me, and all you have to do to be happy is love me.”
“What if I c-can’t do that?” I stutter out, showing a small element of weakness. Fuck!
“You’re out of questions, love. But it’s simple. You don’t love me? You die.”
Fucking Hell. What am I going to do now?
