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And with that, he is back in the kitchen, leaving Dante and I alone in an uncomfortable silence. He waves a hand in gesture for me to sit and begins setting both of our plates with fruit and French toast. I sit at the opposite end of the table, and he sets a plate down before me with a glass of orange juice. I take a sip as he seats himself in his chair, cutting a slice of toast to put into his mouth, I nearly spit out my juice in horror.
“Wait! You’re not supposed to eat it like that!” His fork drops and he frowns at me, thick and dark brows knitting over his animal eyes. I walk to him and pick up the caramel sauce and begin to drizzle it over his French toast. Once I set it back down, I realize he is staring at me, his expression blank and hard to read as usual. Silence stretches for a minute and I walk back to my seat, setting a napkin down on my lap as I drizzle caramel over my plate.
“May I eat now?”
I almost laugh,almost, but settle for a quick nod of my head instead.
We eat in silence. After I shovel a few bites into my mouth, I swallow it down with the rest of my juice and dab my mouth with my napkin. I never really ate like a lady, and I never really saw a need to, except now for some reason I found that I wanted to. Probably to avoid any further scrutiny. I look up at Dante who is now licking his finger clean of caramel sauce, his plate empty except for a few berries. I let myself smile in pride.
“Like it?” I asked. He gave me a shrug and I immediately felt dejected, which I know is silly. I shouldn’t want to please a dark monster who’s holding me hostage, yet that nonchalant motion of his shoulders made my heart drop into my stomach.
“It was delicious, Esmeralda. Unique and surprising, much like you.”
The compliment was so surprising that I let the mention of my full name slide. It seemed like a battle I would lose anyway, me fighting him on my name preference. I decided to let him win this one, if it meant getting closer to my freedom. And as much as I hate to admit it, when he said my full name, I didn't feel the usual feeling of embarrassment about it. I actually felt...unique.
"Thank you," I murmur quietly, not sure of what else to say. He wipes his face and gets up from his chair, walking to mine and pulling it out so that I can get up.
"Come. I see you didn't have much time to tour the rest of my courtyard."
He's being...nice to me almost. His voice is still dark and his stare the same, yet I feel slightly less tense in his presence and that realization should make me put another brick in the wall that I have up, but it loses one instead.
He stretches his hand out to mine in offering. I don't take it and stand on my own, wanting space because he's starting to cloud my judgement. Cordial or not, he is my captor and he drugged me and is holding me hostage in a place that is unknown to me.
We walk through the double set of French doors in the dining hall and step outside, the crisp air of the late morning melting some of my anxiety away. We walk at a slow pace, a few feet of space between us. His hands are in his pockets and I can't stop glancing at his forearms. They are thick and dark and for some reason, they pique my interest and stir something within me. Something I refuse to acknowledge because it's sick.
6
Esmeralda
As we walk furtherinto the courtyard and past the garden, I get my first real and full glimpse of his mansion.
It must be at least four stories high and big enough to be a five-star hotel. Quite frankly, it looks exactly like it belongs to a drug lord. Extravagant and hidden in plain sight. Its white archways and tan, adobe stone are both an homage to most Latin American housing and several houses on my own street. Palm trees stand tall all around the residence, almost acting like a barrier or as fencing.
I turn away and head further into the courtyard towards the grounds that hold tall statues, a built in, long pool set with its own cabana. There is a stone patio with elite grills and a large bar. Elegant tables with chairs were lined up, making this set up resemble an event space for a wedding or large gathering. This place looks like it should belong to a president or billionaire. Or I guess a lead boss in the cartel.
It seemed to stretch on for a while. Further back was a tennis court and what looked like a small vineyard.
Fucking hell this man is loaded.
It makes me wonder just how much power he held. From the likes of it, I'm guessing more than most government officials. That should terrify me, and it does slightly, but mostly I am intrigued. I've grown up poor in one of LA's most run-down cities. The nicest places I've visited were some random celebrity homes a few miles off UCLA's campus. They paled in comparison to this.
"Your silence speaks volumes, Esmeralda. Care to enlighten me?"
His voice is so low that it almost sounds like a command. I swallow the small lump in my throat and speak.
"I'm a little overwhelmed by all of this. Well, all of this…" I gesture to the house and yard, "and being held hostage."
He doesn't make a sound or any movement, he's almost as still as his antique statues. His eyes wander across my face, dark but still golden in hue. He really is magnificent. And fucking dangerous.
I sigh and walk to the pool, sitting down on the stone surrounding it and folding my knees to my chest, eyeing the water as it glitters in the sunlight. This place looks like it should be filled with lavish parties and days spent in complete relaxation, yet the halls are empty and haunting, and I have a deep feeling that most of the guests that enter these grounds are likely to die here. I decide to speak about my realization in the greenhouse, the threat of impending doom creeping on me like a freight train has me brave enough to speak about his actions.
"The Devil's Breath growing in your greenhouse, you used that to drug me."
He is quiet, scarily quiet after I mutter the words out into the morning air, his stillness causing the hairs to stand on the back of my neck again. I am a mouse in his lion's den again, and once more, I am pushing boundaries that could get me killed.
I hear his heels click against the stone and feel him stand right beside me, the space that was once between us now nonexistent. He doesn't sit, just stares at me as I look up at him in question. I see a ghost of a smirk on his lips and my hand itches to slap him, but I resist.
"You're so quick to assume the worst of me. Though, I can't say that I blame you, but I will tell you this: I will do whatever it takes to ensure the safety of my home and my staff. If that means knocking you out to maintain my privacy, I will do so."
