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“Don’t underestimate him, Miss Riley.” Somehow she manages to extract the threat warmly, though her wrinkled face sags in disappointment.
“You should make amends with him. Starving yourself was a silly thing to do.” She’s looking at me judgingly now, which surprises me. Every time she’d come in and collected one of my full trays, I was convinced she’d been amused.
I have to agree with her, though. I regret what I did now, especially knowing that it’s put Liam at risk.
“Take some air today. You’ve been holed up in this room for far too long. I’d like to see some color back in those cheeks. I think it would please Raphael, too.” She winks as she moves off the bed, picking the old tray from the floor before she leaves.
I think about what she’s said while I finish the rest of my breakfast. Keeping Rafe happy is the only way I can secure Liam’s safety, and maybe I can get my mom's necklace back in the process.
But how do you please a man like Rafe? I know nothing about him other than the fact people seem to do whatever he asks of them.
I believe he is capable of terrible things. But at the same time, I get the sense he won’t hurt me.
Raphael is as confusing as he is intriguing, and I want to know more.
I want to know everything.
Maybe if I can figure him out a little more, getting him on-side won't be such a challenge. I just wish being in the same room with him wasn’t so difficult. He seems to suck all the air from around me when we’re together. My mind and mouth forget all rationality, and I always end up pissing him off.
I take a shower and put on a clean shirt that’s identical to the one I wore yesterday. I’m still clueless as to why I can’t be provided with normal clothes, and I’m sick of the sight of white.
My door knocks around half an hour later, and when Ricardo steps inside, he’s looking every bit his usual crabby self.
“I was told you might want to take some fresh air,” he growls at me.
“Rafe?” I roll my eyes.
“Sylvia, actually.” He takes great pleasure in correcting my mistake. So much, that he actually cracks a smile.
I place my book down and stand up from my chair. Moving to the foot of the bed to slip on my pumps.
“The air is a little stuffy in here.” I tilt my head at him sarcastically as I strut past and out to the hall, knowing he’ll be following closely behind.
Sylvia was right about this too. It feels good to be outside again. The lawns have recently been cut, and the flowers are all in full bloom. Rafe’s gardens are kept immaculately. It's sad that more people don’t get to share its beauty. Not even he seems to appreciate them. I’ve spent hours sitting out on my balcony since I’ve been here, and not once have I noticed him out here.
I find a spot under a tree and lie on the grass. Ricardo stands guard a few meters away, huffing and folding his arms as I make myself comfortable and check my panties are covered by the shirt.
Lying here with the sunbeams seeping through the leaves, and warmth dancing over my skin, it’s hard to believe that I’m a prisoner. I have everything here that I’d longed for while I was sleeping in a cold, damp tent, not knowing where my next meal would be coming from.
I think back to the cells that I never thought I’d leave. Those horrors will never leave me, and I have to shut out thoughts of what would have happened to me if I’d stayed and what the innocents left behind are suffering.
Since all I have is time these days, it’s hard not to think, and I’ve often wondered what brought Rafe to that place the day he came.
I want to believe what he told me is true and that he doesn’t hurt children. Seeing how repulsed he’d looked when I’d suggested that he did, was enough to convince me. But Rafe does know about the place and its victims. He chooses to do nothing about it, and I’m not naïve enough to think he’s completely innocent. He was there that day for a reason.
That reason is just another one of the many questions I want answering.
I also spend a lot of my time thinking about Liam and wondering what he’s doing with himself now. He’ll be lonely. I know that because my brother was never very good at making friends. He struggles to trust and never allows anyone close enough to see the real him.
I hate to think of him suffering alone.
I’d spent the majority of my time locked in my cell worrying about how he would react when he found me gone. If he’d blame himself for not being there when I was taken, or worse, think that I’d abandoned him too.
It’s hard not to feel guilty for all the luxuries I have here when I think of him still out there on the streets.
I just wish I could somehow let him know that I’m safe. At least, I think I am.
I don’t know how long I lie, watching the clouds pass overhead through the branches, but when Ricardo clears his throat impatiently, I open my eyes and lean up on my elbows.
