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Ten minutes later he comes back out, drying his hair with a towel while his bottom half is wrapped with one of the super fluffy white ones I’d stacked last night in the cupboards as if I was his girlfriend.
Look at me tonight. I can barely tolerate the sight of him and the voice of reason that tried to warn me away from him is screaming at me to run. I’d listen now if there was somewhere to run to.
Dante tosses the towel he was using to dry his hair in the little laundry basket in the corner and glares at me as if he’s trying to figure me out.
“Get in the bed, we’re going to sleep,” he orders.
My body stiffens and my lungs squeeze. I don’t want to get in the bed or sleep. I definitely don’t want to do either of those with him. Absolutely not when I need answers.
“How long do you plan to keep me here?” My voice is rough and dry from the hours of not speaking. “I did everything you ordered me to.”
His lip quivers as if he’s going to smile but it doesn’t come.
“I’m not sure yet. We’ll see what happens.”
“What does that mean?” I know it can only mean I have to wait until my father is dead but I need to know if I’m right.
Now he smiles and I wish he wouldn’t. “It’s better we don’t talk about such things now.”
I bite into my lip so hard I pierce the skin and taste blood. “Because you’ll let me go when I’m no longer a threat?”
“Something like that.”
What an asshole.“So when my father is dead?” I can’t control the terror that laces through every word. I don’t even know how I’ve been holding up and that same terror hasn’t given me heart failure.
“Like I said, it’s better we don’t speak of such things now.” His jaw clenches and his brows deepen into a hard line.
“I need to speak about those things now. How can you expect me to just accept that you’re going to kill my father?” He can’t seriously expect me to just be okay with that no matter what he’s told me about Dad.
“I don’t expect that, but what’s done is done and there’s nothing anyone can do.”
“Nothing?” That was the one word I feared hearing. It’s my fault I pushed him to say it.
“Nothing.” His voice is harsher.
“There must be something.”
“Get in the bed.”
Blood pounds in my temples and the walls feel like their closing in on me. I’m going to faint again. I just know it. I won’t even need to drugged this time.
“No. I’ll stay right here, thank you very much.” I fight back the hot tears stinging my eyes and my soul.
“You are not going to stay there. Now get the fuck in the bed.” He points over to the bed the way you would when you’re telling a dog to sit.
“No.”
“We will see about that.”
He marches over to me so fast it stuns me. It’s like he moved at the speed of light.
“Get the hell away from me.” I try to move out of the way but he grabs my arm.
Panic surges through me, but not with the flight mode I reacted with earlier this morning when I tried to run. The will to fight races over me instead and I slap him right across his face.
Those bright blue eyes I first fell for gaze back at me stunned, probably because all along I’ve portrayed the image of this weak girly girl he thought had no backbone.
I’m not weak. I’ve just been through shit I didn’t ask for, including what’s happening now.
