Chapter 11 – Scarlett
This place, as gorgeous and gigantic as it was, had no life. The people here were like machines, loyal to their boss—domestic staff and the guards. They bowed their heads whenever he moved past them.
Fear or reverence?
Whatever it was, it meant one thing: My jailer had some sort of control over them. Of course, he did; he was a powerful man, capable of ending anyone’s life with a snap of his fingers.
What I hadn’t wrapped my head around was how a monster like him could have such an amazing staff with pure hearts. His maids, the housekeeper, and the chef were the only people in this whole building who treated me like a human being.
At first, I was skeptical about their closeness to me, but as time went on, I realized the only threat here was my jailer. Not them. They were just regular human beings like me.
Yesterday, I spent almost two hours with Nikki and Natasha in my room. They’d come to clean the place when one thing led to another, and we got talking.
I used to think the two girls were sisters. But yesterday, I realized they weren’t even related at all—except for the fact that they were both Russian.
The accent was strong when they spoke, and when they smiled, it reached the ears—raw and genuine. Nikki was like me in more ways than one. She was quiet and reserved, with short blonde hair and beautiful blue eyes.
Natasha, on the other hand, was the wild one.
Her personality was the exact opposite of Nikki’s.
She was loud when she wanted to be, funny as hell, and so full of life.
She was beautiful. Whenever she smiled, her green eyes crinkled at the corners.
Her long black hair was always pulled back into a ponytail, with a few strands framing her face.
Both girls kept me company yesterday, reminding me of what it felt like to have people around. For the first time since I arrived here, I had fun, smiling and laughing for almost two hours.
The crazy part was that we never spoke about my jailer or anything related to the fact that I was a prisoner here.
I couldn’t understand why these girls worked for such a monster. They were still young—no older than I was—still had their whole lives ahead of them. Why limit themselves to working for this mean man?
However, this was a question for another time because before I could bring it up, we were interrupted by a knock on my door. It was another maid, Monica. She greeted me politely and then turned to the two girls, telling them the boss’s car had just pulled into the courtyard.
I saw the fear evident in their eyes as they rose to their feet. Luckily, though, they were already done cleaning my room. Natasha apologized for the “break in transmission”—her words, not mine. They bade me goodbye and rushed out of my room, giggling softly.
It was obvious they were afraid of getting caught in my room, laughing and talking with me. Didn’t that mean they were also prisoners?
Over the past few days, I’d wandered the mansion and its endless corridors in search of another way out. However, the only things I found were secrets behind closed doors and rooms filled with maps and weapons.
I discovered that, unlike the maids, the guards weren’t afraid of my jailer. They revered him as if he were some kind of demigod. Although I couldn’t understand why, I also couldn’t deny that the quiet reverence his soldiers had for me was rather remarkable.
This was his turf—and here, he was king, lord over his people, the kind that shouldn’t be messed with.
***
The polished marble floor was cool beneath my bare feet as I strolled over to the library to keep my mind busy. I opened the door and walked in, the chandelier’s soft light enveloping me.
The library was a cozy sanctuary, a bibliophile’s paradise with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lining the walls. There was a crackling fireplace on the right side of the room and a massive wooden desk by the window across from the door.
A small smile played on my lips as I drank in the sight of the books meticulously arranged on the shelves. In my head, I was ready to spend the whole day in here, feeding my mind.
Burying myself in these books was the quickest and most efficient way to escape my reality. Since my physical body couldn’t leave this cursed place, my mind might as well travel into the different worlds enclosed within these pages.
I strolled down the aisle between two giant bookshelves, the scent of aged paper wafting through the air. My eyes scanned the books, fingers tracing the edges of the leather-bound covers—reds, blacks, and browns, dulled by time.
I stopped when one caught my eye. The golden letters read, The Art of Deception. My brows knitted together, accentuating the interest flickering in my gaze. I reached out, took it off the shelf, and flipped through the pages.
I was still observing this book when I spotted another that drew me in, The Power of Control. And another, Empires Built on Blood.
Based on their titles, these books must hold secrets known only to a few. No wonder my jailer was such a powerful man. I reached out to withdraw the other two and tried balancing them all in one arm.
However, I was a bit clumsy, and the top two slipped, tumbling to the floor with a heavy thud.
“Shit,” I hissed under my breath as the noise cut through the stillness of the room.
The library wasn’t just silent—it was dead quiet. Like a cemetery.
I crouched, picking them off the floor one after the other. And that’s when his voice startled me: gentle, smooth, and teasing.
“Careful, little scholar. We don’t want you waking the ghosts.”
My pulse shot up to my throat, and I yelped at the sudden, unexpected sound. “Jesus Christ!” The books dropped to the floor again as my hand darted to my chest.
I didn’t think there was anyone else in here with me, let alone him. My friggin’ jailer.
He towered over me, a smug smirk playing on his lips. His jet-black hair caught the chandelier’s soft light, and his piercing blue eyes pinned me.
My face twisted into a frown as I straightened my spine and glared at him. “Do you make it a habit to sneak up on people?” I folded my arms across my chest.
He drew closer, his voice laced with dry humor. “Only those who are where they aren’t supposed to be.”
I yanked my brows. “It’s a library—everyone’s allowed in here.” My scowl deepened.
He stopped in his tracks, flashing that pesky smirk of his that I hated so much. “It’s my house,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I decide who’s allowed anywhere.”
My jaw locked, but I said nothing.
His eyes glanced at the books on the floor before returning to my face. “Those don’t have pictures in them,” he said.
“Excuse me?” My expression turned ugly, offended by his subtle insult.
“These books are a little advanced for you,” he said. “They require a certain…comprehension of strategy. Not many can grasp what those pages are really about.”
“Wow,” I muttered softly, my tone dripping with sarcasm. “Thanks for the tip. I’ll keep that in mind.” I bent over and stacked the books all in one arm.
By the time I rose to my feet, he was already standing inches from me. My breath hitched in my throat, and my heart began racing at such proximity. His eyes bored into mine as if searching for something, and his warm breath grazed my skin.
He wrapped his arm around my waist, and with a single pull, my body collided with his torso. The scent of his cologne invaded my senses, stirring emotions I didn’t want to feel for this monster.
When his fingers caressed the hair that framed my face, breaking my defenses with time. His touch ignited a fire within me, and the high walls I’d built against him came crumbling to the ground. I was vulnerable in that state, and my heart wouldn’t stop pounding like a drum.
“Congratulations,” he whispered. “You are now more valuable than you realize.”
I had no idea what he meant by that, and I couldn’t bring myself to ask. All I wanted was to get away from him before things got more heated than this. My thighs brushed against each other in response to the tingling sensation between them.
My body was starting to tremble, and a heat I wasn’t ready to name was already coursing through my blood. The scent of his cologne and the hardness of his skin fanned the flames of passion burning inside me.
His lips curled into a mischievous grin. “I can smell your fear,” he teased.
Fuck no.
I couldn’t let him see through me. He must know how badly his touch affected me.
“You mistake hatred for fear,” I said, trying to sound confident even though the tremble in my voice betrayed a different truth. “I am not afraid of you…because underneath that mean face, you are just a man.” The slight pause came when I leaned in to look deeper into his eyes.
He didn’t respond, but his smirk widened by a fraction.
“Now, if you’d excuse me, I’ve got books to read.”
He hesitated for a moment before letting go of my waist. A soft sigh of relief escaped my lips, and I walked away from him without wasting a single second.
While in motion, I could still feel his gaze lingering on me. I didn’t walk too fast, lest he think I was afraid of him, and I didn’t walk too slowly either.
***
I lay in bed that night, tossing and turning as I replayed the incident at the library. My mind was flooded with the possibilities of what could’ve happened if I hadn’t walked away.
The lust in my jailer’s eyes was clear as crystal, even though he chose not to act on it. Maybe he wasn’t sure how I’d respond if he made an attempt. It could be the reason he didn’t push further.
But then again, I was his prisoner, and according to him, he’d make me suffer for my father’s sins. So why hold back when he could take me by force whenever he wanted? Why ignore my defiance and stubbornness when he could easily put me in my place?
Some things just weren’t adding up.
But despite all of this, the one person I was disappointed in was myself. I was supposed to hate the man who kidnapped me and kept me prisoner in his mansion. Hatred and disdain were the only things I was supposed to feel for this monster.
However, each time he drew so close to me, I couldn’t help being drawn to his charms. The man was too handsome for a monster—and from the very first time I saw him at Josie’s, I found him attractive.
I feared that if he continued to corner me and hold me the way he did today, things might take a drastic turn. At this point, I wasn’t even sure how I’d react if he ever tried to kiss me. On the surface, I told myself that I’d push him away or even smack him across the face.
But deep down, I knew that was a blatant lie because there was a seventy to eighty percent chance I might kiss him back. I’d caught myself multiple times fantasizing about how it would feel to taste his lips.
And honestly, if he had dared to kiss me in the library earlier today, I would’ve given in to the temptation. That was what scared me the most—my inability to resist him if he ever came at me.
I was torn between hatred and this undeniable pull, a constant reminder that I was at my jailer’s mercy. It was now clear to me that survival in this mansion wasn’t just about resisting his cruelty. It was also about resisting my urge to be intimate with him.
The mere thought of it sent shivers down my spine.
I let out a deep breath, pulled the sheets over my body, and lay on my side.
As I was about to force myself to fall asleep, the front door swung open. Startled, my spirit almost jumped out of my body. Three hefty men barged in without a word, and one of them picked me up from the bed like I weighed nothing.
“Hey!” I screamed, struggling against him. “Put me down! Let me go!”
He slung me over his shoulders, and they all headed out without a word. I cried for help as they moved through the hallways like shadows in the dark.
Everything happened so fast, and the next thing I knew, I was thrown into a room that looked like a cell. Cold and dark. The sound of clanking metal echoed off the high, damp walls while my kidnappers locked me in.
I rose to my feet and rushed to the bars, my fingers tightening around the cold metal. “Let me out of here!” I shouted. “Let me out!”
They walked away, leaving me alone in the dark, cold and helpless. I combed my fingers through my hair, shocked and confused about what had just happened.
Why was I locked up in a cell? And why now?