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But with just one move, he showed me it was a mask to hide the darkness inside of him. I had sensed he was dangerous when he took me out of the rave and brought me here against my will. I was picking up on his mask coming off. But what he did during breakfast yesterday was to skyrocket my fear for him from zero to a hundred in a quick snap.
And now, lying on this bed, staring at the ceiling, still feeling a soreness in my throat from the choking, that was made worse after crying myself to exhaustion yesterday, I know in my gut that I hate him.
My nipples still ache from how hard he pinched. It feels like a few days to my menstruation with how tender and swollen they are. I'm still having difficulty swallowing.
I turn to my side, feeling lonely in this unnecessarily spacious bedroom.
Whatever protection I had from being Romano’s fiancé has been stripped off. If my father would have burned down the world to get me before because of the benefit from being engaged to Romano, now he wouldn't care so much. He doesn't have that much motivation because I humiliated him and I am of little worth to him.
I sniff, trying to fight back my tears.
When I ran to my bedroom yesterday after breakfast, I never stepped out again. Evelyn brought me lunch and dinner. This time she didn't come to ask me if I would rather eat downstairs or in the confines of my bedroom. It was like she knew what had happened even though she wasn't there to witness it.
Eating lunch wasn't so hard, but after I slept and woke up to dinner, my throat felt corseted and every swallow felt like squeezing a log of wood down it. It was a different kind of torture entirely. To be hungry, and not be able to eat.
I swallow painfully as I catch a teardrop with my index finger.
The other place that hurts as much is my head. All this crying is doing a fast one on me and I feel like I have a band playing a full orchestra in my head.Mad Max Furyhas got nothing on the chaotic show in my head.
I can't stay hidden in this room if I have any chance of escaping and going somewhere safe. I don't need to be told that this place is not safe, and it's not because of Romano or what I did to their family, it's because of Benedetto and what he is capable of doing to me.
I suck in a deep deflating breath and sit on the bed, wincing as the quick move sends a slit of sharp pain through my head.
He expects me to hide away after what he did to me. He expects me tofall in linelike he said. But I won't give him that satisfaction. I will find my way out of this place and go as far as I can.
I stand and wrap the silk robe that was provided with other clothes late noon yesterday, around me. I tie it in place before going to the bathroom to splash some water on my face.
I lift my eyes to stare at my reflection in the mirror. Just one day with him and I already look sunken. I have dark circles under my eyes from crying, and patched lines on my dry lips. My neck has angry imprints from his fingers around it and I feel paper light.
I gulp, and wince from the lingering pain of swallowing. Tears sting my eyes and my heart shrinks in my chest, refusing to accept that this might be the new normal for me if I don't find a way out of this fancy cage.
I give up trying to have my bath and walk out of the bathroom, and then out of the bedroom. If I have hopes of anything that can take me out of here, I have to start as early as possible. I can't spend one more day in this house. I don't know what will happen when he comes for me next and I don't want to be here to know.
I am walking to the sitting room when Evelyn walks out wiping her hands with a white washcloth with her usual blinding smile. Her graying hair is in its ponytail, and she is wearing a fuchsia pink wrap dress, a white apron tied around her waist, and white ballet flats.
“Good morning, Rose.”
“Good morning Evelyn,” I force a smile to spread across my face.
“Breakfast is ready, I made sweets and coffee,” she points in the direction of the kitchen behind her.
“I'm not hungry,” I lie. I'm damn hungry. The worms in my stomach might already start feeding on me.
“There's also a lemon ricotta cake that is easy to swallow,” she rips the band-aid off, letting me know she knows.
I exhale, “I will eat that if you make my coffee black and with lots of sugar.”
She nods, “This way then,” she moves into the corner leading to the kitchen and two other domestic staff walk out from the kitchen pushing breakfast carts.
We walk into the kitchen, which is different from the rest of the manor. Still wood but a deeper brown, the same brown as coffee beans. The only color comes from the kitchen utensils. All white and breakable, down to the pots.
“Rough day yesterday,” she smiles sadly at me.
“Something like that.” I go to take a seat on a high stool by the kitchen island while Evelyn skims to the other side and starts to lift triangular slices of ricotta cake onto a plate.
“He has bad days, but his heart is the best I've seen around.
“She walks to the coffee maker with a cup and pours some already-made coffee into the cup to the brim.
