Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Liana
Aweek in this desert prison feels like a lifetime when you're counting the hours.
I've memorized every inch of my cage. I know the exact number of steps from my bedroom to the kitchen (ninety-seven), how many tiles line the pool (two hundred and sixteen), which floorboards creak when I sneak down for midnight snacks (the third one past the staircase, always).
What I haven't managed is getting more than ten words at a time from Frankie since our argument.
One minute he’s there and the next he’s gone.
I know he’s avoiding me but I wish I knew why.
I catch glimpses of him on phone calls that always seem heated and urgent.
Once, I heard him speaking rapid Spanish through a door I wasn't supposed to approach.
When he spotted me lingering, his face went blank, conversation abruptly terminated.
"Don't you have somewhere to be?" he'd asked, his voice dismissive.
The irony in that statement almost had me laughing in his face…almost. Because no, actually, I don't. That's the whole problem. I have nowhere to be.
Today the sun beats down mercilessly making me wonder why God would make a place this hot.
I look outside my window and watch as the pool beckons, its cool blue promising relief from both the heat and my crushing boredom.
I slip into my new swimsuit, a sexy black bikini that my cousin would have never let me purchase and head downstairs.
Pita sees me and raises her eyebrows with a smirk.
“Aye, mija. Rio will surely drop to his knees when he sees you in that. He may even gouge out the eyeballs of the men who look your way.”
I laugh out loud and slip out the back door towards the pool but her comment lingers.
‘Would he gouge out Frankie’s eyes? Because I wouldn’t mind him looking my way.’
The water surrounds me, sudden and cold, then warm as I move deeper into the pool.
I swim, lap after lap, muscles burning and my mind finally still.
Here, in the water, I find the closest thing to freedom…
besides my books of course. The weightlessness of it and the steady pull as I wade through is… peaceful.
I float on my back afterward, eyes closed against the sun, letting water fill my ears until all I can hear is my own heartbeat. When I finally move towards the steps and stand up, water streams down my body and I feel the prickle of eyes on my skin. Someone is watching me.
I don't look around immediately. Instead, I pretend to adjust my top, casually scanning my surroundings and the house until I spot him. A large figure stands in the window of what must be his office. Frankie is watching me and he’s not even trying to hide it.
Something hot and dangerous unfurls in my belly. He thinks I don't know he's there. He thinks he can observe me like I'm some exotic creature in a zoo. Suddenly, I want to be that creature. I want to be exotic…and I want him to watch.
‘Let's give him something to look at, then.’
I climb out of the pool slowly, exaggerating the sway of my hips as I walk to the lounge chair.
I imagine this is how one of the girls in my romance novels would move.
Slow and sexy. The sun-warmed stone burns my feet, but I don't rush my movements.
I take my time spreading out my towel, arranging myself perfectly, my heart hammering in my chest as I plot my next move.
‘Don’t be a little Bitch, Liana.’
Then, with deliberate movements, I reach behind my back and untie my bikini top.
My heart hammers harder as I pull it away.
I've never done anything like this before…
never been naked outside and never deliberately exposed myself to a man's gaze.
But there's power in it, I realize, as I lie back on the lounger.
Power in choosing when and how to be seen. And I want him to see me.
I slide my sunglasses on and close my eyes, but I'm hyperaware of the window above, of Frankie still standing there. Is he shocked? Angry? Does he like what he sees? I can't see his expression from here, but I imagine his jaw clenching and his eyes darkening as he watches me. It’s thrilling.
The thought sends a shiver through me that has nothing to do with the water drying on my skin.
What would it be like, I wonder, if he came down here?
If those tattooed hands touched me and traced the water droplets down my stomach…
lower? Would he be gentle or would he pin me down and take what he wants with the same intensity he does everything else?
My body responds to the fantasy, nipples tightening despite the heat.
I've never ever been kissed by a boy before, let alone a man.
I imagine the encounter would have been fumbling and awkward had I been allowed to see boys back home.
Ones who probably would have been more scared of my family name than interested in me.
Nothing like what I imagine with Frankie.
I've read enough romance novels to picture it perfectly. His weight pressing me into the mattress and his mouth hot on my neck, my stomach…my thighs. Would he take his time and teach me what my body wants? Or would he be rough, demanding and overwhelming?
The thought makes me bite my lip and squeeze my thighs together, a pulse of need surprising me with its intensity.
I shouldn't want this. I shouldn't want him.
He's my jailer, my warden and the man keeping me prisoner until I'm handed off to someone else. And yet…I can’t stop myself from wanting it as my hands subconsciously run down my stomach.
When I finally open my eyes and lift my sunglasses, squinting against the sun, the window is empty.
He’s gone. Disappointment crashes through me, followed quickly by embarrassment.
What was I thinking? He probably walked away the moment I took my top off, disgusted by my childish attempt at… what? Seduction? Rebellion?
I sit up quickly, covering myself with my arms, suddenly feeling exposed in a way that has nothing to do with nakedness.
‘Stupid, stupid girl. You shouldn’t be playing games you don't understand.’
I reach for my top, curiosity taking over my embarrassment.
Where did he go? What is he doing in that forbidden wing that's so important he spends all day locked away there?
Before I can second-guess myself, I'm tying my bikini back in place, wrapping a sarong around my waist, and heading inside.
My bare feet make no sound on the cool marble floors as I navigate through the house with my heart in my throat.
Pita is nowhere in sight and the corridor I was warned not to go down stretches before me.
This is my chance…maybe my only chance to see what he's doing, or hiding.
I need to understand something, anything, about the strange situation I've found myself in.
I take a deep breath and step into forbidden territory, the thrill of defiance making my pulse skip. Whatever consequences come, they can't be worse than this limbo I'm trapped in…can they?