9. Eve
9
EVE
I collapse against the white tiles, letting the water run in deep rivulets down my face. I stay like that for as long as I can stand the heat and the pressure. Washing the sin and him from my skin.
Every part of me aches, most of all between my legs. My tears intermingle with the water as memories from last night come flooding back. Is this what my life is to be like now? To be used and abused whenever he chooses and then locked away like a dirty little secret?
He didn’t use a condom. God knows what diseases he’s given me. Does he even care? At least there’s no chance of me falling pregnant. I can thank my contraceptive shot for that.
Wrapping a towel around my shivering body, I step out of the bathroom and freeze. A white sundress has been laid out for me on the bed, along with a plate of delicious-smelling pastries and a glass of freshly squeezed juice.
Is this my reward for my total and utter submission? For allowing him to fuck me exactly how he wanted?
“Do you like it?”
I spin around in shock. He’s leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed. Calm as anything, without a hint of remorse on his face.
The air vanishes from the room as my periphery narrows and focuses. He’s wearing black jeans and a white T-shirt that hugs his ripped torso like a second skin. He’s so beautiful, I can barely breathe. His stillness is unnerving, his expression unreadable.
“Well?” he prompts.
“Why would I?” I mutter. “I’m your prisoner, not your whore. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t treat me as such.”
He raises his eyebrows at my outburst. “I pay my whores for subservience, Eve. I can hardly accuse you of that.”
His whores? His words settle uncomfortably in the pit of my stomach, and my cheeks redden.
“It’s a conciliatory gesture,” he adds, sweeping his eyes over my face and noting my discomfort. “Don’t read into it any further than that.”
“You didn’t use protection. What about when you’re with your—?”
“That’s not something you need to concern yourself with.”
“That’s not an answer! This is my health we’re talking about. My future.”
He sighs. “I’m clean, and so are you. I have a file of your medical records sitting on my desk downstairs.”
He does ?
“So, where’s my file on you? Am I supposed to just take your word on this?”
“Yes. I’ll leave you to eat your breakfast and get dressed.”
He turns and exits the room, and I stare after him for the longest time. So, there are rules in this twisted game of his… I won’t contract an STD, but he’ll shoot me in the head if I don’t do exactly as he says.
Even so, a tiny spark of hope is smoldering away inside me. Despite my angry words, I appreciate the clothes and the breakfast—it’ll be heaven to wear anything other than a crumpled bedsheet.
There’s something else that’s causing this budding optimism as well… He’s gone and left his bedroom door wide open.
I dress before he returns. He’s laid out white lingerie for me too, plus a pair of navy-blue espadrilles.
I slide the sundress over my head and glance at the label. Designer, of course, and no doubt costing more than I spend on utilities in a month. The silky material feels so seductive against my skin, and it fits like a dream.
I never would have chosen it for myself. It’s too low cut. The waist cinches in to show off my slenderness, which in turn emphasizes my generous chest, and it stops a good six inches above my knees. At home I would have left it in the changing room but here, with the relentless heat beating down on the glass windows, it’s almost too perfect to refuse.
Next, I sit down on the edge of the bed and devour the pastries. I’m so hungry I consume every last morsel, spilling crumbs all over the silver tray and the floor. I’m still draining the last of my juice when I hear heavy footsteps in the hallway outside. I scramble to my feet as he enters the room.
He stops short when he sees me. I watch his dark gaze raking up and down my body. I can tell he likes what he sees because that mysterious current has started to wax and wane between us again.
“It suits you,” he states, stepping further into the room and closing the door behind him. “You should wear dresses more often.”
I shake my head. “I don’t like to stand out. To anyone.”
“Everybody stands out to someone.”
“What if it’s not reciprocated?” I tilt my chin in his direction. “Are women forced to suffer because of it? I have no wish to be highly prized thanks to some pretty piece of material. I have better designs for my life than that.”
Or I did until you crash landed into it.
Those cruel lips start curving. “I’d be gravely disappointed if you didn’t. Not after that excellent education of yours.”
“Don’t do that,” I gasp out, feeling violated all over again. “Don’t drop hints like you know everything about my life. It’s creepy and invasive. You may have some list detailing what school and what college I went to, but you will never know what’s in my heart, my thoughts, my desires, my favorite film, book…”
“ To Kill A Mockingbird .”
I gape at him.
“It’s your favorite book, am I right?”
Is he a mind reader, too? “How did you… ”
“It’s a guess, though rather apt, wouldn’t you agree?” He’s toying with me again. “I imagine everything feels like one long injustice to you at the moment.”
Fuck you!
“And I know you like the dress.”
Son of a bitch.
I glare at him as a rush of warmth sharpens my senses and quickens my pulse rate. I hate him. I want him. What the hell is wrong with me?
He takes a step in my direction, and I take a step back. In another time and place this man would be so easy to fall for. Regardless, he continues to prowl toward me, his sinful eyes never once leaving my face. I’m backed up against the mattress now. There’s nowhere left for me to run.
“Join me for dinner,” he says, reaching out to brush away a stray crumb from my upper lip and then frowning as I flinch.
“No, thank you.”
“It wasn’t a request.”
“Then I was right before. I have no free will, not as long as you’re attracted to me.”
“I believe you were referring to a one-sided affair…” He cocks his head to the side. “I think we re-established those parameters last night, don’t you? Or do you need another reminder?”
He’s so close to me. I can feel the heat radiating off his body, and his heady scent is scrambling my senses. I watch him glance down at the outline of my nipples, so prominent through the thin fabric of my dress. He knows the effect he’s having on me, and he’s loving every minute of it.
“Where are you from?” I whisper. “What country? ”
He frowns. “I’ll tell you over dinner.”
“I don’t want to have dinner with you.”
“And I said you didn’t have a choice, mi alma . Do I have to fuck you into submission again? Do you need a reminder of just how much you bend to my every whim?”
I inhale sharply. His words are like a lit match to my lust. I’m still aching from last night, but this burning need to have him inside of me is overriding everything.
“Screw you!” But my voice is as weak as my resolve, and it’s fading fast.
He tuts at me. “Don’t say such tempting things. You have no idea how much I want to lift up that dress and see how snugly your new lingerie caresses your cunt. Are you wet? I bet you a million dollars you are. So white, so angelic… Just how I requested it. My maid has exquisite taste, don’t you think?”
My eyes widen in shock. No man has ever spoken to me like that before. He’s right, though. My core is throbbing stronger than ever.
He reaches out and slowly draws a line with his finger from my cheek all the way down to my collarbone and then lower still to my left breast, cupping and kneading the tender tissues, lightly running his thumb over my erect nipple and making me shudder.
He inclines his head and drops a kiss to my temple, intimidating me with the sheer scope of his masculinity again. With his other hand, he catches the hem on my dress and draws it all the way up my thigh before sliding a teasing finger across the front of my underwear. I drop my hand to his to stop his progression, but my efforts are half-hearted at best.
“Just as I thought,” he murmurs, nudging my legs apart with his foot. “I could take you right now and just slide on in.” As if to prove the point, he pulls the material to one side and pushes a rough finger in between my folds.
“Stop…”
“No.”
He withdraws it, and then thrusts again. One finger becomes two. My head tumbles forward into his shoulder, and my moans are muffled by the soft fabric of his T-shirt.
“Do you like that, mi alma? ”
“No,” I pant again, aching for more as my inner muscles start gripping him.
He laughs. “Liar.”
He forces a slow and steady rhythm, his thumb brushing against my clit and shooting heart-stopping sensations throughout my pelvis. I can feel his other hand on the nape of my neck, pressing my face even tighter into his body.
I want to pull him closer, rip open his zipper, and have him climb inside, yet a part of me refuses to give in completely to this man. If I’m to learn more about my brother’s killer, I can’t let him claim every part of me.
My breathing is all over the place as he continues to drive his fingers in and out of my body. I’m so close… He could tip me over the edge at any moment. As if sensing this, he presses the hard heat of his palm against my clit.
“Come for me,” he orders, and I do just that, crying out as I convulse around his fingers, clutching at his hand to prolong the sensations as I’m consumed by every shade of fire.
My face is still tightly pressed against his chest as a solitary tear rolls down my cheek. I’m terrified by this man’s ability to turn my emotions inside out, making me dismiss all reason and doubt the second his skin touches mine.
“Now, about that dinner,” he purrs, his hot breath like a soft caress against my ear lobe.
“I haven’t agreed to anything yet.”
He smirks and grasps my upper arms, tipping me backward onto the bed before reaching for his belt. “Then, I’ll just have to persuade you a little harder …”
He keeps me in bed with him for hours, but the more pleasure he gives me, the more I’m despising my own body. He’s right. It keeps betraying me in the worst possible way by screaming out in ecstasy whenever he puts his hands on me. My lust and my hate are so tightly intertwined that all the edges are blurred.
I can’t hope to have any perspective while he’s dominating me like this. I have no sway over what happens to me here, from my choice of clothes down to the food I eat. The only things I’m allowed to keep for myself are my thoughts, but he seems hell-bent on gunning for those as well.
He’s sleeping now. His chest is pressed tight against my back and one arm is thrown carelessly over my hip, holding me close to his body. I may be motionless in his embrace, but my mind is spinning wildly. My gaze is fixed on the bedroom door. He kicked it shut earlier, before he removed the last of his clothes, but he never locked it. Either he’s getting careless, or there really is no escape from him, but I’m feeling reckless enough to find out. A few minutes. That’s all I need. Just a brief reprieve from my prison cell to sharpen my senses and harden my resolve again .
My breathing is sharp and shallow at the thought of what he’ll do to me when he finds out. His rage will be terrible—my retribution, swift and savage. It will be worth it to taste fresh air and freedom, though.
Heart pounding, I work to free myself from his embrace, slowly removing his arm and slithering sideways out of bed. He grunts and rolls over onto his front. I crouch there on the floor, immobile and staring, temporarily transfixed by his sleeping beauty; intimidated by the sheer length and breadth of him sprawled out across the mattress. His carved features are softened by sleep. There’s no rigidity in his expression anymore, only peace. A lock of black hair has fallen over his face, and his olive skin is stretched tight over his thick forearms and biceps. This man could snap me in two if he wanted, and the thought sends an unpleasant shiver up and down my spine.
He’s much older than me, but there are no gray hairs in those dark waves. Still, the faint lines on his forehead suggest hardships and struggle. This man has endured to reach this bedroom with me.
I dress swiftly, throwing the dress back over my head and scooping up my panties from the floor. He grunts again and I freeze. Any minute now, those eyes are going to spring open and blind me with their darkness.
Backing out of the room, I find myself in a hallway filled with doors. There’s a curved staircase at one end, and I take the steps two, three, at a time. My descent seems endless. Everything in this house is super-sized, and there’s an old colonial-style feel to it—from the polished wooden floors to the stark whiteness of the walls. Like his bedroom, there are no pictures hanging anywhere, just more of the same dark furniture. The only movement in the whole place comes from the white muslin drapes at the window as the gentle afternoon breeze whips the material into formless shapes.
At the bottom of the stairs, there’s another door—solid, wooden. Open? I test out that possibility, pushing the handle down as I hold my breath. To my relief, it springs toward me with a soft click…
“Hey, stop!”
I swing round, my face frozen in terror. The same girl who’s been delivering food to my bedroom is standing right behind me. She’s wearing a red dress, and her copper hair has been tied back in a loose ponytail. There’s a bunch of white lilies in her hand.
“Does Se?or Dante know you’re here?” she demands, looking me up and down.
So, she does speak English…
I feel a flash of anger as I recall all the times I pleaded with her, only to be met with blank ignorance.
“I said, does Se?or Dante know you’re here?” she repeats, more urgently this time. Her eyes keep darting to the empty staircase.
Her raised voice attracts another woman from the same room. She’s of a similar age. Hispanic too, pretty, with a round generous face. Her welcoming smile fades when she sees me cowering by the door. Who the hell are all these women?
“Keep her there,” snaps the first girl. “I’m going to fetch Se?or—”
“Calm down, Valentina,” comes a deep voice. “I’m right here.”
My stomach drops as my captor slowly saunters down the stairs barefoot. He’s still pulling on his T-shirt, benefitting all three of us with his hard and unforgiving body. I risk a glance at the other two women. Judging from all the floor gazing going on, they’re not immune to his beauty either.
“Eve’s exploring her parameters again, aren’t you, my angel?” he drawls, but that dangerous snap has returned.
Shooting me a hard look, he prowls over to the sideboard, picks up a gun and jams it into the front waistband of his jeans. Walking back over to me, he grabs my arm and yanks me out of the way as he opens the door.
“Let’s take a walk, shall we?” he says, pushing me out onto the porch and slamming the door behind him. “It’s high time I showed you just how gilded the bars of your cage really are.”