Chapter 13 Kateřina
My eyes can barely open. I feel exhausted.
Waking up in a bed in a house that is not yours because someone forces you to stay there is more draining than I thought.
Another morning that I don’t wake up in my home.
Another morning I wake up in this scary place, living under a frightening man’s orders, out of nowhere.
My eyes finally open, and I stare at the ceiling. I don’t want to think of anything else. I’m trying not to give up, but it’s easier said than done. I turn onto my side and curl up like a baby, consumed by my thoughts.
How can I escape this madness? I find nothing more interesting to do here.
I mean, what are my choices? Try on a few clothes and look myself in the mirror?
I’m not in the mood. I’m not in the mood to even try to cheer myself up.
He says I’m not a prisoner. I suppose I am allowed to take a walk in the garden.
What’s the purpose of it? Walk in a garden of a house I loathe and pretend I belong here? Nah …
Then, I hear a knock on the door, which makes me jump in the air and curl up on the bed. What if it’s him again? And what if it’s not? Which would scare me more? I don’t respond. Why have I become such a coward?
The door opens, and my heart is beating like crazy. It’s Eleanor.
“Good morning, Miss R??i?ková.”
Thank God.
“Morning,” I barely mutter.
She walks in first, followed by two of his bodyguards, who push two cosmetic stands into the room.
What? Then, another bodyguard enters, dragging a stand loaded with hair products and supplies—hairdryers, straightening irons, curling wands, brushes, combs, styling sprays, and mousses.
The whole thing looks like it was pulled straight from a professional salon.
“What is all this?”
“Mr. Manson ordered us to bring a few beauty supplies in your room.” Eleanor smiles.
“That’s not a few. That’s an entire store.”
She clicks her tongue and shakes her head. “Mr. Manson’s orders.”
I am astounded by the sight before me. Everything is brand new, organized by color, product, and brand. I have never seen so many products gathered all together.
The bodyguards leave the stands ahead of me and fold their hands in front of their lower abdomens like soldiers. None of the men are Landon or that Bruce. But what are they doing?
“I hope we didn’t forget anything,” Eleanor says.
I get out of bed and walk closer to the stands. “Forget? What will I even do with all of this?”
“It’s yours now, so it’s up to you.” She walks toward the door, the bodyguards following her and lining up right behind her as if to protect her. “Miss R??i?ková, will you have your lunch in the kitchen, or should I bring it to your room?”
I hesitate for a few seconds, but not to think of my answer. My mind is completely blank. “I’ll come to the kitchen, thank you.” She smiles and lowers her head. “Eleanor?”
“Yes, Miss?”
“You can call me Kate?ina.”
She mirrors her smile from before and walks away, along with the bodyguards. I don’t know why I asked her to call me by my name. Maybe I shouldn’t have, because it makes things less … formal. Less distant.
What has he done? Why did he bring so many products when I didn’t even … oh, I asked him. At least, I think I asked him. No, I didn’t ask him; I just mentioned the truth. Why did he do it anyway?
No matter how much I’m trying to stay away, I can’t.
I walk closer and check the cosmetics out.
I open the lipsticks, spray the perfumes in the air, and try a few eye shadows on the back of my hand.
A beautiful bottle of perfume catches my eye.
It’s small and round, shaped like a delicate pink rose.
I pick it up and spray a little on my inner wrist. Gosh, it smells exactly like a fresh rose.
And just like that, he comes to mind again.
“What’s this?” I mumble to myself, noticing a small piece of paper resting where the perfume was.
I open the paper, and it has only two words written on it.
“Good girl.”
A soft giggle escapes my lips. I don’t know why. I should be mad; I should be afraid—terrified, to be fair—but now I’m not.
The whole day has passed, and I still can’t shake the memory of his gesture. As I sit on my bed, the scent of the perfume hits me again. It stirs something inside, making me want to see him. I get up and walk into the giant closet, scanning the dresses.
My eyes land on a pastel pink A-line minidress with a fitted bodice and a flared, flowy skirt. I feel my heart skipping a beat. That will look good on me.
Before I can even think, I slip into the dress, straighten my hair, and apply light, natural makeup with pink, almost nude lipstick. And last but not least? I spray the perfume he chose.
I step out of my room and head toward the living room, where I expect he’ll be soon. It’s probably late afternoon by now. I enter, and the sight strikes me. The shutters are open, revealing the vast garden that stretches out beyond the house. The sun is setting, casting a warm glow over everything.
The room seems … different. It looks bright and warm. He’s standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows, gazing out at the view.
He’s dressed as usual—formally, in black, well-fitted slacks and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
I don’t speak; I remain silent, immersed in the breathtaking view that stretches before me. Him and the stunning scenery this mansion offers.
He turns around, oblivious to my presence, hands tucked into his pants pockets, and his dark green eyes land on me.
There is a mild surprise in his eyes. Is that a good thing? And why do I care if it is? Why do I care whether he’ll like how I look or not?
A soft grin adorns his well-shaped lips, making his gentle cheek dimples appear.
“This look suits you more, little rose.”
“What look?”
He walks closer, stopping right in front of me, his intense eyes roaming my face.
The cut on his forearm doesn’t seem as severe as I thought it was.
It looks almost identical to the one I also acquired.
Slowly, he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear and bites his lower lip.
My heart pounds under his gentle touch, my breathing turning unsteady.
A satisfied smirk curls his mouth as his thumb strokes my lower lip.
“Good girl,” he growls approvingly.
My eyes lower bashfully, letting his touch affect me more than I should. How can he change my emotions about him so effortlessly?
“Thank you,” I say coyly, my eyes returning to his. “You didn’t have to.”
He tilts his head, his smirk deepening as his thumb lingers on my lip.
“Oh, but I did,” he murmurs, his voice low and possessive.
“I want you to look beautiful for me. Just for me.” His fingers trail down my jaw, sending a shiver through me.
“And judging by the way you’re blushing, I’d say you like that more than you’re willing to admit. ”
A lump forms in my throat, making it hard for me to swallow. My pulse quickens again, betraying me.
His fingers slide slowly down my neck, causing electrifying jolts throughout my body. He grips my chin, forcing my gaze to stay on him. “You’re learning,” he taunts. “Obedience suits you.”
My breath catches. I should recoil. Resist … but I don’t. Instead, I melt under his touch. God, shame burns beneath my skin. Shame that my body betrays me once again. Shame that I give in to his touch.
He hums low, almost like a growl, his fingers wrapping gently around my throat. “See?” he murmurs. “Admit it, little rose. You belong to me.”
“Boss.” Landon’s gruff voice sounds, making me gasp in surprise. Surprise, fear and shame.
Cain lets out a silent groan of disappointment. “Can’t you see I’m busy?” he hisses indignantly, without taking his eyes off me.
“It’s urgent.”
“What’s more urgent than this?” He looks at Landon with a piercing gaze over my head, his tone rising.
“It’s about Torres.”
Cain’s jaw flexes and his fingers around my throat loosen. Who’s Torres?
“Kate?ina, go to your room,” he growls sternly, crossing his arms.
“What?”
“Go to your room. Now.”
My blood boils. I clench my fists, my nails digging into my palms as anger surges through me.
“You don’t get to order me around,” I snap, my voice shaking and my adrenaline instantly peaking.
He steps closer, his presence towering over me, suffocating.
“Kate?ina, you’re testing me,” he murmurs, his voice softer.
I cross my arms, refusing to back down. “Maybe I am.”
Landon lowers his head, but I can feel his eyes nailed on me while a sinister smirk creeps upon his lips.
In a flash, Cain’s fingers wrap around my wrist, yanking me forward until my body collides with his. A sharp gasp escapes my lips, but he doesn’t let go.
Suddenly, I shake harder, but out of fear this time. “I said. Go. To. Your. Room. Kate?ina.”
I realize I have to obey. I have to do as he says. I lower my eyes, and his grip around my neck loosens as if he’s permitting me to depart. So, I do. I head to my bedroom.
“No,” I mumble to myself. I stand behind the wall so I can hear what they’re talking about. I need to know.
“Feisty little thing, isn’t she?” Landon quips.
Carefully, I lean forward, just enough to see what’s happening.
“What did you just say?” Cain raises a brow, his voice gruff and dripping with threat.
“It’s just an observation,” Landon declares, his gaze steady and away from Cain’s.
Cain prowls closer to him. “I would advise you to keep your observations to yourself.” He grips Landon’s blazer collar and tightens his grip on it. “Or better yet, don’t even look at her.”
I can feel Landon’s uneasiness. It reeks all over the place. “Got it, boss.”
Cain doesn’t let go of Landon immediately, but he lets his imposing eyes penetrate his soul for a bit longer.
Eventually, he lets go. “Now talk.” His voice is low, laced with boredom like he’s already lost interest. “What about him?”
Landon straightens his blazer and clears his throat.