CHAPTER 22
I can barely hold back a smile when I wake to find Janos in my red wingback chair. It’s only a few tugs at the corners of my mouth, but after not having smiled for weeks, it feels as good as a tooth-revealing grin.
His head rests against one of the wings and his eyes are closed, breaths calm and deep. He must be sleeping, or at least dozing.
I watch him with fascination. It’s the first time I see him without the sharp control constantly circling him like an invisible shield. He almost looks normal, and I get the urge to crawl into his lap and place my ear against his chest to listen to his steady heartbeat. But I keep myself in check, of course.
Only a minute passes before his eyes snap open and he lifts his head. I wonder if he could sense me watching even as he slept.
All the clocks in the world stop ticking as our eyes lock for a breathless minute. It’s just him and me, our slow breaths, and this weird magnetic energy that’s always pulling between us.
I startle as my alarm cuts through the silence, telling me it’s time to get up and go to work.
A sinking feeling drops into my stomach. I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to replace this strange peace with the apathy of the store. I’d rather stay here in the clutches of the tiger than spend my day staring into harmless faces.
I’m about to leave the comfy warmth of the bed when a deep, accented voice says, “I’ve called in sick for you.”
With the covers in my hand and one leg half out of bed, I pause. “Why?”
“You need to rest,” he simply says, sharp eyes honing in on me with deadly precision.
I hover, considering whether I should fight him on this. But I don’t want to, so I end up scooting back under the comforter, asking the question nagging at the corners of my mind.
“Why are you here?” It can’t just be to ensure I won’t break. That risk has been far greater on any given day during the past month. There’s another reason. Even as my shattered mind can’t tell reality from hopeful fantasy, I’m sure of it.
He doesn’t answer. He just keeps watching me with frightening intensity. There’s nothing discreet about those eyes. No polite restraint or slow build-up. They go straight for the kill—burning into my soul and taking everything they can find. I can’t hide anything, and I’ve stopped trying long ago.
But I still need to know if I’m right about what I suddenly feel very certain about after having doubted for so long. So I give it another go. “Is it because Gabor wants you here?”
His eyes narrow—the slightest tug at the corners. It’s barely noticeable, but I’m watching him as closely as he’s watching me, so it doesn’t escape me.
A shake of his head follows. Then he gets up and leaves.
My throat constricts as I watch his back like I’ve done so many mornings lately. Clutching the sheets, I blink my blurry eyes toward the ceiling. I expect him to leave, so when I hear sounds from the kitchen, a small hope sparks in the pit of my stomach. It wavers as measured steps approach, and I shut my eyes and hold my breath as I wait for my heart to break at the slam of the front door.
It never comes.
Instead, Janos’s strong presence fills the room, and a vibrant energy stirs within me as he bustles beside the bed. I don’t dare to open my eyes, afraid to find out I’ve finally lost my mind and no one is here.
“Sit up.”
I peel my eyes open, and a loud breath swooshes past my lips as I see him in the red chair. He’s right in front of the bed, holding a bowl of yogurt, fruit, and cereal.
He doesn’t need to ask twice. I push up to sit at the edge of the bed, my legs dangling between his parted thighs. Anticipation whirs inside me, and my fingers grab nervously at the comforter as my tongue darts out to wet my lips. His gaze follows the movement, and a flash of hunger darkens his eyes.
I stop breathing as I stare at him, like a prey facing the predator that has it cornered.
I expect him to pounce at any moment, but then his mouth twitches and falls back into a straight line of controlled impassiveness. “Don’t do that,” he simply says.
I can’t seem to close my mouth as my breath swooshes in and out, and my tongue darts over my lips again. It’s not on purpose—I swear. I just can’t help it.
“Rebecca.” My name is a stern warning on his lips as he grabs my jaw. “Don’t.”
Pressing my lips together, I nod. His fingers slowly fall away, and I almost consider licking my lips again to provoke another reaction. I don’t care if he’ll pin me to the bed, smack my ass, or grab my throat; I just want to feel him. But I can’t make myself disobey him as the warning keeps burning in his eyes. So I give in, letting my shoulders sag, and he breaks eye contact to dip the spoon into the yogurt and hold a big scoop up to my lips.
After having fed me the entire portion like this, Janos leaves the room again. I remain stiffly seated on the edge of the bed as I listen to him move around the apartment. I stare toward the hall, expecting to see him walk toward the front door and leave at any moment. But he never does. And when silence descends and I can’t stand the sound of my shallow breaths anymore, I get up and cross the hall to use the bathroom.
Cum drips from my ass when I sit on the bowl and relax. It’s the first time someone has come in that hole, and a strange combination of humiliation and desire washes through me. The shame of being raped in my most private opening is worse than any other degradation Gabor has forced upon me, but what happened last night was nothing like the first time Gabor took me there. I’m not sure it even classifies as rape. It wasn’t consensual either. It’s some strange place in between, and a depraved part of me wants to smile like a smitten teenager.
Suppressing the urge, I go to the sink and avoid the mirror as I wash my hands and brush my teeth. For a long time, I haven’t been able to look at my reflection, but as I put my toothbrush back in the cup, I find my eyes drifting up to face the woman staring back at me.
I barely recognize her.
The broad lines haven’t changed. It’s still the same shoulder-length dark hair that curls in pretty waves, the same green eyes that sparkle when the light falls at the right angle, and the same full lips I once used to coat with a sheen of lip gloss. Yet the person staring back at me is like a stranger—a once close friend who has become ravaged by harsh winds and weather. A worried look has settled deep in her eyes and drawn a perpetual line between her brows, and where she once looked somewhat reserved, she now looks timid and anxious.
At the same time, there’s a spark in those green eyes that makes them shine more vividly than they’ve done before. It’s a newly sparked desire that is burning from the inside with an eagerness to get out and live life to its fullest.
I thought my eyes would never regain their color.
Suddenly, the same yearning fills my body. I want something more. I don’t want to wither away here, spending the rest of my probably short life staring at white walls and pink curtains while I let three strangers tear me apart. I want everything I can possibly get out of life. I might not be able to get much, but I want it.
I wrap the expensive-looking terry robe around my body and, for the first time in weeks, I notice how soft it is. The tiny strands caress my body like a giant teddy bear hug.
I shouldn’t have anything this luxurious, a voice at the back of my head says.
I’m about to untie the belt and put the robe back, but then Janos’s praising words from last night ring through my mind. Good girl. My hands fall away and the robe gets to stay.
With hesitant steps, I find my way into the hallway. Usually, I’d head straight back to the bedroom and sink onto the mattress—sometimes to the floor if the self-deprecating thoughts are loud enough. But my feet don’t want to go back there. Instead, they carry me to the living room, where I find Janos by the dining table with his laptop.
Our eyes lock as he lifts his gaze, and for a moment, we remain caught in the intensity of our mutual stare. When he returns his attention to the screen, I scan the room, pondering what to do. Everything has been at a standstill for so long that I have no idea how to spend a day off.
My hands fumble and my feet shuffle as I try to decide. It’s only when I feel Janos’s gaze on me again that I spur myself into motion.
Taking a seat on the pink couch, I retrieve the remote from the side table drawer where I put it two months ago. For the first time, I turn on the large screen on the wall. It turns out I not only have a bunch of different channels but also several streaming services at my disposal, and I end up choosing a sitcom I used to like.
For once, I can stand to watch something besides thin air or water.
I stay there, glued to the TV as the episodes keep running on autoplay.
At one point in the middle of the day, Janos disappears. He doesn’t say a word, just leaves. When my pressing bladder forces me up from the couch, I check the kitchen and bedroom to confirm that he is, in fact, gone.
Once I’ve relieved the pressure in my belly and return to the empty hallway, I pull in a staggered breath as I try to push down the disappointment. It would be so easy to sink into bed and let the emptiness swallow me up.
I hover at the bedroom door, staring at the bed for several minutes before I decide I’d rather go watch TV after all. So I yank the comforter off the mattress and bring it with me to the couch where I curl up and press play on the remote.
Apparently, there’s still a bit of fight left in me.
Several hours pass while I sit there, wrapped up in the comforter, watching TV. Somewhere along the way, I even find myself chuckling at the characters’ crazy antics.
I frown when I look up at the clock and see it’s past seven. Usually, I would have received a food delivery an hour ago. But instead of worrying, I let the TV pull me back in until my stomach growls.
It actually growls.
It’s a lovely sound. A sign of life I haven’t heard for weeks, maybe months. It has undoubtedly been there, but I’ve been too detached from myself to notice.
I pad through the apartment and check if there’s a delivery bag outside the front door. I might have been so engrossed in the TV that I missed the bell. But there’s nothing. So I close the door, and driven by my newfound hunger, I make my way to the kitchen in search of something to eat. A couple of crackers and some fruit is all I manage, but it’s a big step up from needing a threat hanging over my head to eat at all.
Then I return to the TV and let the episodes run on end.
A couple of hours later, I freeze at the sound of the front door. I stare toward the hall with my heart pounding in my throat, expecting two suit-clad men to enter.
But it’s just Janos, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, carrying a white plastic bag. “I’m sorry dinner is late,” he says. “I got held up.”
My shoulders fall back in place, and I press a hand to my frantic heart as I watch him bring a chair across the room.
Unheeding the TV, he takes a seat right in front of me and starts unpacking the bag on the coffee table. My eyes flicker back and forth between the TV and the delicious-looking food as I try to decide which is more appealing.
Janos must have been to the Jewish district because there’s both pita bread, falafel, labneh, hummus, and spicy meat. Before my life here in Budapest turned upside down, I used to go there to get a meal like this whenever I could spare the expense. The colors and scents alone are a feast for the senses, and I find them slowly waking up after weeks of dormancy.
I eagerly open my mouth when Janos holds up the first bite, and I gobble up everything he gives me as he alternates between feeding me and himself. Sometimes, my eyes linger as he licks his fingers, then uses the same ones to feed me a new bite of food. I want to feel those lips too—feel them crashing against mine as his tongue invades my mouth and his hand wraps around my neck.
God, our kiss is an all too vivid memory in my mind, and I force it out by turning my eyes back to the TV.
With Janos in my line of view, I have to crane my neck to see the screen. At first, he doesn’t seem to mind my divided attention, but after a while, he starts pushing my head back to face him whenever I lean away. Yet I keep doing it, unable to keep my eyes off the newly discovered entertainment.
When he grabs my jaw and holds me in place as he feeds me a hummus covered falafel, I realize he’s annoyed. His eyes narrow as he clenches his jaw. Even so, my eyes drift away once he releases me. Something inside me has awoken—something that wants to live, watch TV, and eat good food. And I want it all at once.
Janos growls in frustration, and my eyes jump to the always impassive man with surprise. He grabs the terry belt around my waist, unties it, and yanks it free. I yelp at the sudden motion, expecting him to tear the robe open. But he doesn’t touch the white terry cloth again. Instead, he wraps the soft material around my head several times to cover my eyes and ties it at the back of my head.
Reflexively, I lift my fingers to investigate, but large hands grab my wrists. Harshly. Impatiently, even.
My hands go slack in his grip as a surge of submission swooshes through me. The reaction seems to be what he’s looking for because he eases his grip and breathes an almost relieved sigh. His thumbs start stroking my skin, up and down, taking his time to feel me.
My breaths rush in and out through my parted lips as my skin awakens. God, I want more. I dart out my tongue to wet my lips, and Janos immediately tightens his grip again.
“Not that tongue,” he growls. But when he gathers my wrists in one hand to stroke my lips with the other, his touch is gentle. The pad of his thumb travels the length of my bottom lip, and a wet sound makes me think he’s licking his own lips.
Is he thinking about kissing me?
I know he won’t do it, but the mere thought that he might want to stirs up a plethora of feelings I shouldn’t have. My breaths deepen and my lips slip farther apart to give him better access. He circles his thumb around my mouth a few times, then slowly slides past my lips, into my mouth. I let out a small mewl as he presses his thumb to my tongue. Somehow, it’s more intimate than a kiss. I lean my head back, welcoming his touch. He draws circles around my tongue the same way he would in a kiss, then slides the pad back and forth before slowly pushing farther in, toward my throat.
I go absolutely still, breathing hard as he reaches the point that would normally trigger my gag reflex. He keeps it there for a minute, like he’s relishing the power he holds over me—my willingness to let him in.
Slowly, he draws back. But I’m not ready to lose his touch, so I close my lips around his thumb and suck.
Janos groans and pauses his retreat. Now it’s my turn to swirl my tongue and lick back and forth along his finger. I wish it was something else I was sucking, and I know he does too as his breaths deepen.
I groan with discontentment as he pulls out.
“Dirty, dirty girl.” He tuts as he strokes his knuckles over my cheek. When my tongue is about to dart out, he presses two fingers to my lips. “Don’t,” he scolds. “If you keep doing that, I’ll have to leave.”
Because you’re not supposed to fuck me? I want to ask, but hold my tongue. The situation is too precarious for bold questions, and I can’t stand the thought of him leaving. So I stay still as I wait for him to make the next move.
The next move is food—disappointing food. But when Janos slips a piece of spicy meat past my lips, there’s nothing disappointing about it at all. A world of flavor bursts into my senses, and I only realize I’m moaning when I hear the sound drift into the room.
I tense. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “Please don’t leave.”
Janos pries my clenched hands apart and takes one in his warm grip. “Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Are you sure?”
“I promise.” He squeezes my hand and holds on to it as he keeps feeding me. Every now and then, he’ll swipe his thumb across my knuckles or move his palm against my fingers. It’s all very disarming—the feeding, the loss of sight, and the tenderness.
When he’s done feeding me, everything becomes quiet. Releasing my hand, he turns off the TV and goes still before me. I can clearly sense him—his powerful presence looming before me, strong and steady as ever.
It’s peaceful in a rare sort of way. My hands remain calm in my lap, my eyes enclosed in darkness. I’ve seen so much, yet so little lately. I’ve stared into nothingness and witnessed the violations my body has endured, and still, I haven’t truly perceived anything. Now, it’s like my eyes can finally rest, and I let the moment entrance me as I soak up the quiet intimacy that requires neither touch nor words.
I’m no longer sure the connection between Janos and me is an illusion, but I’m not sure it’s real either, and I need to know.
“Why are you here?” My words fade into the same silence they broke.
A minute passes before Janos breathes a heavy sigh. “I need to know you’re okay.”
New silence descends. Because I don’t know what to say. I’m not okay. Not sure I’ll ever be. Yet, compared to yesterday, I’m far more than okay, and I intend to cling to this new breath of life with everything I have. So I draw a deep breath and let my plea sound on my exhale.
“Will you please stay—for more than just a day?” I say fervently, because Janos is the only thing that will keep the hope burning inside me.
Another long minute passes without an answer, and my breath remains stuck in my throat until Janos speaks.
“Okay.”
The air swooshes past my lips, and my whole body reels like I’ve just stepped off the ledge of a steep cliff.
A large hand folds around mine, guiding me to stand. Letting my eyes remain blind, Janos leads me to the bathroom, where he places me in the middle of the room as he fills the tub. He doesn’t remove the robe belt until he’s about to wash my hair, and by then, I’m so calm I could fall asleep in the tub.