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Emilio wasn’t playing games with her. Regardless of the circumstances that had landed her here, he truly seemed to care for her and wanted her to stay.
The revelation came with a host of questions. Did she want to stay? Could she be his little girl, day in and day out? If she did, how would Uncle Gio react?
And as far as Gio was concerned, how was it he hadn’t stormed the castle to rescue her? Did he think she was dead? Emilio was right—it was completely out of character for him to have simply left her at the mercy of a man she’d been sent to kill.
She was no closer to answers when her bladder finally insisted she get out of bed. Since she was restrained, again, she had to press the red button just above the headboard. Almost immediately, the door opened and Benny walked into the room, as though he’d been waiting for her to ring.
“Where’s Da—” She cut herself off and cleared her throat. She needed some shred of dignity, despite being stark naked under the thin sheet and chained to a bed. “Where’s Emilio?”
“Your daddy had an early meeting. He asked me to watch after you this morning,” Benny explained quietly as he unhooked the restraints and rubbed her wrists where the fur lining had chafed a little overnight. “Do you need to potty?”
“I need to use the restroom, yes,” she replied primly.
“You don’t need to be embarrassed with me, Miss Amara.” Benny’s words were kind, without a hint of censure.
Holding the sheet to her chest, she sat up and lowered her legs to the floor. “Am I allowed to go alone this morning?”
“Of course.”
“Of course,” she muttered, wrapping the sheet around her and shuffling toward the bathroom. “Like I’m not a prisoner here.”
The odd thing was she no longer felt like one. Or at least, not the way she had at first. Any attempt to escape would still be soundly, swiftly punished, she knew, but escape no longer held the appeal it had. If anything, her heart ached knowing she wouldn’t be seeing Emilio all morning.
Having relieved herself, she grabbed the pink toothbrush that had been left out for her and started brushing her teeth. Were these feelings just dregs of the childhood crush she’d apparently never outgrown? Sudden onset Stockholm syndrome?
Halfway through brushing her teeth, she stopped and stared at her reflection in the mirror.Oh, no. “You’re in love with him, you twit,” she mumbled around the bristles and foam filling her mouth.
How? How had she let herself fall head over fucking heels in love with a man who had literally held her prisoner, humiliated her, and beaten her? Was she really so spineless she could be won over by a few earth-shattering orgasms and a bubble bath?
Disgusted with herself, she finished brushing her teeth and began formulating a plan. Somehow, she needed to get out of here and go home long enough to tell Uncle Gio she was done. Out. Surely he’d be happy to have her out of the life, out of harm’s way.
“Miss Amara? Is everything all right?”
Crap. She’d gotten so wrapped up in her thoughts she’d completely forgotten about Benny standing guard. “Yes, everything’s fine.” She allowed herself six deep breaths before opening the door and offering him a shy smile. “Sorry, you caught me daydreaming.”
His smile was reminiscent of an indulgent uncle. “No apologies needed, Miss Amara. Do you need help getting dressed?”
She glanced at the bed, where another frilly concoction awaited her. But instead of the pale pink she’d been forced into the day before, this dress was a deep, shimmering purple. “Oh, Benny. It’s beautiful!” Embarrassment and self-loathing temporarily forgotten, she dropped the sheet and rushed over. Holding the dress up in front of her, she gave Benny a grateful smile. “I love it!”
“Mr. Rinaldi mentioned you weren’t a fan of pink. I’m sorry we don’t have anything in red, but I felt this might suffice in the meantime.”
Her traitorous heart fluttered like a butterfly on crack, demanding her attention.See? He cares for us! He takes our likes and desires into consideration! Look!
Ignoring the pounding of her heart and her wayward thoughts, she slipped the dress over her head. There was a ribbon around the waist she would never be able to tie on her own, so she turned her back to Benny. “Can you tie it, please?”
“Of course.” With a practiced ease that reminded her of how often he must have done this same thing for Emilio’s other little girls, Benny tied the wide ribbon into a big, floppy bow at the small of her back.
When she’d been little, her father had always made her spin in circles for him, to show off his newest gift. The familiar urge rose up in her, but she ignored it. She wasn’t actually a little girl anymore, no matter how Emilio dressed her up.
“Oh, go on, Miss Amara. You know you want to give it a twirl.”
Turning, she found Benny smiling at her, his eyes kind and playful. She could feel the heat creeping into her cheeks at the idea of being so transparent in her thoughts. “I have no idea what you mean.”
Benny held out a hand and after a moment of hesitation, she gently placed her own in his outstretched palm. Lifting their joined hands, he twirled her in place, just like her father had always done. For just a moment, she was that little girl again, giggling at the way her skirts swished around her as she spun in circles.
When he finally released her, she smoothed the skirt back into place in an attempt to regain some of her dignity. “It’s perfect, Benny. Thank you.”
“You are very welcome. Now,” Benny’s eyes twinkled with mischief, “would you like to have breakfast up here or in the kitchen? I happen to know there are some very gooey cinnamon buns calling our names down there.”
