“I’ll be back,” I say to Markus as I leave the office and walk down the hall to the bedroom. Retrieving the key, I unlock the door to find her sitting on the bed, the journal I got for her open, a pen in her hand.
Surprise fills her features, and she shuts the notebook, her cheeks turning crimson as if she’s been caught doing something that she shouldn’t.
Pride fills my chest. “Were you writing in the notebook I got you?”
She nods, and I can see her throat bob as she swallows. Since the night I touched her, the impulse to do so again has been tugging at me. Something changed between us that night, something that made her trust me more. Like I had anticipated, she is relying on me, trusting me to care for her. I just never expected to develop any type of emotions or feelings toward her. Elena was special, though, refusing to see only the bad in someone. The only problem with that was that she was looking for good in the wrong person.
“What’s that?” she asks, motioning to the dress in my hand. The dress I had forgotten all about until now.
“This is what you will wear on Saturday night.”
Scrunching up her nose, she says, “You can’t be serious. That won’t even cover my butt.”
Gritting my teeth, I do my best to act unphased. “I’m dead serious, and it will cover all that it needs, but still give everyone a little tease.”
Elena’s green eyes fill with disappointment. “Why would you want to tease anyone? I thought I was yours?”
My jaw pops, and I wonder if she can sense how annoyed I am, how I really don’t want her to wear the fucking dress. There isn’t shit I can do, though. “Yes, which is why you will wear it and not complain, otherwise you can go naked. Would you like to do that?” Over my dead body would I ever allow that, but she didn’t know that.
Frowning, she says, “I don’t want to wear that. I won’t be comfortable. It’s too revealing, and everyone will be looking at me. Can’t I wear something else?”
“No, and that’s the point. I’m showing you off, letting everyone know what I have that they don’t. I want all eyes on you. I want them to want you and be jealous.”
She looks down at her hands and away from me, but I don’t miss the dread and disappointment in her features. “Then, I guess I’ll wear it. It’s not like I have a choice.”
At least she’s learned that much.
“Correct,” I say and place the dress on the bed. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine. Just a little headache today.”
Walking to the door, I grip the brass knob and talk over my shoulder. “Good. I’ll be back in a little while to get you for dinner.”
There is a slight pause, and then Elena clears her throat softly. “Did you figure out... who poisoned us?” she asks hesitantly. She is scared, and I understand why, but she has to know there is no safer place than here.
“I told you not to worry. You’re safe with me, and I will make sure whoever did this pays. When I find out more information, I’ll tell you.” She nods, and I walk out of the bedroom, closing the door behind me. I twist the lock into place and walk back to my office.
Markus is sitting in one of the seats in front of my desk, a smug look on his face. If he doesn’t get out of my face, I’m going to rearrange it.
“How did it go?”
“Fine. Don’t you have work to do?”
He shrugs. “Probably. I wanted to talk to you, though. See where your head is. This is still all about revenge, right?”
“What else would it be about?”
Markus’s eyes narrow. “You’re different with her…”
Am I? I’m still a ruthless asshole. I’m making her wear the dress even though she doesn’t want to. She is mine… but the need for revenge, to hurt her father overshadows that. I can’t push my revenge to the side to spare Elena. It will never happen. I can’t allow it. Romero is going to pay for killing my mother, and Elena will just have to be a casualty of war.
“Not really, now get the fuck out of my office and stop second-guessing me. I have shit to fucking do.” I seethe, settling into my seat.
“I’m not second-guessing you, just wondering if you’ve found someone to restart that rusty old thing in your chest.”
“Says the almost emotionless asshole in front of me,” I counter.
Markus shakes his head and gets up and walks out without another word. With him out of my hair, I think of the event. There will be a major chance for her to escape, and as soon as she sees her father, she is going to try. I just know it.
I need some type of insurance, something to keep her in line, so she obeys. I think of all the different things I can offer her, freedom to roam the house, walks outside on the property. Of course, those freedoms she will gain from getting away as well. I need something that will strike fear in her, make her want to obey me because the consequences will be grave if she doesn’t.
Then it hits me, her asking about Marie...
Perhaps that will do the trick.
17
Elena
Like clockwork, the lock turns, and the door opens at a quarter to twelve. The maid enters the room with my lunch. Carrying a tray of food, she walks all the way up to the bed and hands it to me.
“Would you like me to stay while you eat?”
The tray almost slips out of my hand at the suggestion. “Ah, I’d love to, but…” Julian might kill you.
“I’ll stay, then,” she chirps, taking a seat on the edge of the bed.
“I don’t know if it’s safe. Julian doesn’t like anyone in here.” I wonder what she is thinking about my relationship with Julian. She obviously knows that he keeps me locked in here.
“He told me himself it was okay to come in and talk to you while you ate.”
“Oh…” That’s surprising. So surprising that I’m not sure if I should believe her. Maybe I should tell her to leave just for her safety. On the other hand, if this is true, I would love the company. I already feel connected to her, knowing she was here when I was sick. We didn’t talk a lot then since I was mostly unconscious, but there is still a familiarity between us.
“If you’re sure, I would love it if you’d stay.” I smile. “Would you like some?” I point to my tray. “There is always way more than I can eat, and I would hate to sit here and eat in front of you.”
She smiles widely and reaches for the grapes, her fingers barely graze them when an image of a dead person sprawled out on the kitchen floor pops into my head.
“On second thought, maybe you don’t want to eat my food. The last person who did, died.” I half-laugh even though it’s not funny.
“Oh, I’m not worried about that. Mr. Moretti has been having everything tested before it’s brought up to you. He doubled all security around the house as well.”
“He did?” That makes me pause.
“Yes, he is always very concerned about your safety.”
I just nod, not wanting to correct her. He isn’t worried about me. He is worried about someone taking what’s his. If she saw the dress he wanted me to wear, or knew half the story of how I came about being here, I doubt she would think he cares.