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CHAPTERTEN
Emily
When Antonio led me to my room, flashbacks of what I endured at the hands of Jason Alexandria streamed past my eyes like a movie matinee. Initially, I was hesitant, but Antonio assured me the room no longer looked as it once did. Gone was the black BDSM bed and any trace of the whips and chains that once lined the walls.
“I disapproved of the human trafficking,” he’d commented as we entered the room. “Any trace of what used to occur within these walls is long gone, as is the man who initiated it.”
I already knew Jason was dead, and he was murdered by his daughter to avoid being killed by him. I never knew of his children when he frequented Antonio’s compound, only learning of Gerrick and Hadley later through Hawke. When Hadley discovered the truth of what her father had done, she was devastated. Both she and her brother were aware of their father’s visits to Antonio’s home, yet they were under the impression it had to do with the drugs he sold.
A knock at my door disturbs my daydream. Pulling myself from the window I’ve been staring out, I turn just in time to see Antonio entering my room.
Stopping just inside the door, almost gentlemanly, he pleads, “Luciana, mypreciosawould you do me the honor of dining with me tonight?”
“That’s not my name anymore,” I reply, returning my gaze to the women working in the garden below my window.
“It’s the only name you’ll be referred to in my home,” he suddenly snaps.
Ignoring him, I stay silent.
“I must apologize, Luciana, but I’ve waited many years for your return, and I don’t want to start by fighting with you.”
Sighing in resignation, I agree to join him, but only on the condition Andres doesn’t.
“Done,” he agrees. “You will find everything you require within the confines of this room, and I expect you to be ready and by my side in the next hour,” he says before exiting my room.
For someone who begged me to join him five minutes earlier, it didn’t take long for his tone to change. To my surprise, Antonio wasn’t wrong about everything I’d need being in this room. It’s like he’s been watching me for a while because the clothing that lines the cupboard is exactly my type, as are the shoes beneath them. Walking into the bathroom is no different, as it’s filled with my favorite soaps, shampoos, and perfume.
A lot of surveillance has been done for him to know so much about me, which unnerves me, yet the last thing I want to do is anger him, so I quickly shower and dress. By the time I am done, it’s time to join him for dinner.
Upon entering the dining room, it’s not hard to miss the obvious changes that have been made since I was last in this room. Coming to a complete stop, I take in how vastly different the décor is from before.
“Do you approve of the renovations I have made, Luciana?”
The sound of Antonio’s voice snaps me out of my trance. Looking in his direction, I find him seated at a smaller dining table than what had previously been housed in this room. He is dressed in a deep blue suit, with a wine glass in his hand. On the table in front of him is a laptop which he closes upon my entry.
“It’s very different from what I remember,” I confirm. “It is a shame you removed the glass chandelier; it’s the only fixture I loved.”
Taking a seat opposite Antonio, I watch as he hands his laptop to a maid, who he ushers out of the room. On the opposite side, another maid enters and rushes to fill my wine glass.
“The chandelier is still here,mi preciosa, it’s just in another room. I will have it moved back if it pleases you,” I hear him reply as I watch the maid leave us.
“It’s your home Antonio; put it wherever you want,” I respond a little harsher than I’d anticipated.
“It’s your home now as well, Luciana,” he declares. “Remodel it however you choose.”
“I have a home, Antonio, and I’d really like to be there right now,” I plead.
Dismissing my pleas as if he hadn’t heard them, Antonio informs me that he has kept the gardens I’d cared for with Mrs. Gomez. No one has tended to them since Mrs. Gomez passed, and they desperately need work.
When I ask how he knows of my work in those gardens, he slyly admits that he used to love watching me when he was home. His admission shocks me as I’d never known he was in the compound; I’d always believed he was in the US.
“Why did you never show yourself while I was held captive here?” I demand.
“You were never a prisoner here, Luciana.”
“Of course, I was!” I angrily fire back.
Without allowing him time to reply, I tell him my presence in his home wasn’t a willing one. I was forcibly abducted and held against my will as a play toy for his business associate, a man with sadistic sexual tastes who repeatedly raped me.
