For the rest of the lunch, I try to steer away from the subject of Julian and ask Marie about her and her life instead. She tells me about her siblings and her parents, who came to America from the Philippines when she was just a little girl.
“I wondered where you were from, you look so exotic, but you don’t have an accent.”
“It’s because we moved when I was in kindergarten. My parents have very strong accents,” she explains while I take the last bite of my sandwich.
“That was delicious.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed your lunch. It was nice spending some time with you, but I need to get back to work now.”
My shoulders sag in disappointment. I took my time eating, drawing this out as long as I could, but I knew this would end sooner rather than later. “Hopefully, we can do this again.”
“I’m sure we can.” She grabs the now empty tray and heads out the door. “Bye, Miss Elena.” We give each other a little wave goodbye before she closes the door and locks it behind her.
Instantly, I’m overcome with guilt. Is Julian really okay with her coming in? Maybe she was lying, or she misunderstood him? What if this was a test?
Oh, god. What if Marie gets hurt because of my selfish need for company?
I’m so nervous for the rest of the day, I can’t even concentrate on math. I can’t shake the feeling that Marie is in danger and that it’s my fault.
When Julian finally comes to get me for dinner, I’m on pins and needles. As soon as he walks in, I bombard him with questions.
“Is she okay? Marie, I mean. You didn’t do anything to her, right?”
“Why would you ask me that? I told her it was fine to come in.”
“I thought…”
“You thought I killed her?” He arches a brow in questioning.
I feel ashamed to admit it, but nod since there isn’t any point in lying to him. Julian is cruel, sinister, and I know he wouldn’t hesitate to kill someone. Man or woman.
“I didn’t kill her… but your concern for her well-being is interesting.”
“Interesting?”
“Maybe that’s not the right word. Convenient would be better.”
“What that’s supposed to mean?” I’m almost afraid to find out.
“At the event I’m taking you to, I need you to behave. I need you to act a certain way and do things you might not want to do, but you will do them because if you don’t, Marie might get hurt.” The words slowly enter my mind, and I piece the puzzle together.
“You’re using her against me,” I growl angrily.
“Yes, but I will not harm her if you behave, and I will reward you. I will give you more freedom. All you have to do is prove yourself to me.”
“Prove myself? What does that even mean?” I toss my hands into the air. “I’ve never done anything for you not to trust me. I’ve played all your games, never fought you on anything. I let you keep me in your bedroom without complaining. I think I’ve proven myself enough… maybe you are the one who needs to prove himself to me.”
As soon as the last bit leaves my mouth, I regret saying it. Not because it’s not true, but because I don’t want to provoke Julian.
His crystal blues become stormy, and my eyes move to his hands that curl into tight fists. Sometimes things seem so perfect, and I think maybe I can reach him, and then he says or does something, and I’m back to being hopeless.
“Have I not proven to you that I can be kind? That I’ll take care of you? That you can trust me? Have I lied to you? Hurt you?”
“No…” My shoulders sag down, and I turn my head away, unable to look at him longer. No, he hasn’t physically hurt me, and he has shown me kindness in his own way, but I can’t help but expect more. Maybe that’s my problem. I shouldn’t expect more from a man who bought me.
Everything he does is to ensure that I behave, and now he is using Marie as extra insurance. I don’t like it, not at all, holding another person’s life in my hands, but what option do I have? Either way, Marie ends up hurt, and I could never sleep at night knowing that I cost someone else their life.
“I already told you. It’s not always going to be like this. You won’t always be locked in this room, but I need to know that I can trust you, and this event is going to be the perfect way for you to gain that trust.”
“I understand, but I’ve been here for weeks. I haven’t tried to escape… I’ve listened.” Reasoning with Julian is like trying to reason with a bull. It’s pointless, and you’ll probably end up dead before you get anywhere.
Julian’s gaze softens at my words.
“Do this for me, okay? Behave, don’t fight, and I will give you freedom.”
“Okay,” I say, my voice dripping with defeat.
“Are you hungry?”
“Yes, very. It’s late.” I get up from the bed and grab his hand naturally. I know he only holds my hand when we walk through the house, so I won’t run away. He likes me to be anchored to him. So he can control me, but today I’m imagining that he is just holding it because he wants to. It’s the one thing that makes me feel like I’m not just his prisoner.
He leads me through the house and into the dining room. It’s already dark outside, and probably cold with the sundown. So, I’m not surprised we are staying inside.
The table is set as always with the dishes covered and ready for us to dive into. He pulls a chair out for me, and I take my seat while he takes the one beside me. As always, he serves the food, which is grilled salmon and a variety of vegetables tonight.
Setting my plate down in front of me, he asks, “Would you like some wine?”
“I’m not old enough,” I respond.
He laughs and cocks a brow. “You’re old enough to marry but not have a glass of wine?”
Deciding to jump out of my comfort zone, I grab the wine glass in front of me and hand it to him. His eyes twinkle with amusement, and I’m pretty sure I like that look more than I like any other he’s ever given me.
Popping the cork on the bottle of wine, he pours the smooth red liquid into the wine glass, filling it about halfway before passing it back to me.
Bringing my lips to the rim, I take a small sip, wrinkling my nose at the fruity scent that invades my nostrils. There is a bitter tanginess left in my mouth after I swallow, and I shiver, unsure if I like it or not.
“It takes time to develop a taste for wine,” Julian simply says, stabbing a piece of vegetable with his fork and shoving it into his mouth. He eats as viciously as I suppose he kills, and that’s not the image I need to be conjuring up in my mind right now.
“It’s not bad, but it’s different,” I say while staring at the red liquid. “I’m not sure if I like it yet or not.”
“Drink some more, I’m sure it will grow on you.”
Nodding, I drink a little more in between bites of food. With each sip I take, my cheeks grow warmer. In fact, my entire body feels warm, like I’ve been wrapped in a warm blanket.
Soon the glass is empty, and I look to Julian to see if I may have another.
“I thought you didn’t like it?” he teases, and this is the side of him I like most. The side where he shows me glimpses of who he is beneath all the layers of death and vengeance. It’s because of this that I can’t give up on him.