“I let Marcus get back to his apartment to switch out his clothes and take care of anything personal that he needs. He’s been here two weeks straight already. He’ll be back at dinner,” Adam tells her.
“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t…I didn’t mean to impose,” she stutters out.
She looks down and finds her hands trembling in her lap. She clutches them into fists to stop the shaking from spreading to the rest of her body. When she looks back up, Adam’s eyes seem to have followed her own down to her hands as well.
“No need to be scared,” he tells her in his deep voice. It’s not gentle yet it’s not threatening either. “It’s time we talk.”
“Are…is Isabella or Cristian coming for me?” she deadpans.
He looks at her sardonically.
“Is that what you think? That Stella would have her right-hand man leave her son unprotected for weeks so that he can bring you out of that hellhole and nurse you to health only send you back?”
Stella? Stella…YES! At the mention of the woman’s name, she now remembers Stella’s soft and caring voice. So, Stella had someone bring her here? She relaxes a little bit, the tension seeping out of her pores. Stella wouldn’t hurt her. It seemed the woman barely tolerated Isabella. If only Stella knew what Isabella thinks of her.
“Stella,” she manages to speak. “I remember her being here but vaguely. Sh-she had someone help me?”
Adam nods.
“Why? Isabella won’t like this,” she says shaking her head slowly from left to right.
“Isabella Romano terrifies you that much?” he asks, his brows bunched and nearly connecting. “Why?
“I-My mother and I, we owe the Romanos a debt,” she replies.
“A debt?” he asks with some interest now. “How much?”
“I-I’m not sure,” she answers and then looks away. “It’s not on paper and my mother only told me that we had to work it off. But…but she passed away ten years ago and Don Pietro said it’s not my place to ask.” She’d gotten severely punished for even questioning the validity of the debt.
He sits back and crosses one leg over the other as if he’s in a meeting inside of a boardroom. He absolutely looks the part.
“How long has it been? Since you’ve been working it off,” he asks.
“Mom told me about it when I was eighteen,” she replies.
“And you’re how old now?” he further asks.
“Thirty-three,” she replies quietly.
“So you’ve been working off a debt that you’ve never seen for at least fifteen years,” he states. “Does that sound judicious to you?”
“N-no,” she answers nervously.
And yes…she’s stayed up many nights after a grueling workday of taking care of the mansion to ask herself this same thing. But it’s always her mother’s dying plea that keeps her in place. Be a good daughter, her mother used to tell her. We owe them.
“Let’s move on, then.” He uncrosses his legs and leans forward, elbows on his knees. “What are the details of your job as Isabella’s assistant?”
She didn’t have to be a genius to understand what he’s insinuating. They’d met in a swingers’ club with her following every one of Isabella’s commands.
“Everything and anything they need me to do,” she whispers.
She’s unable to meet his eyes and hopes that he heard her. The shame he made her feel that first night comes rushing from her toes to the root of her hair again.
“Details,” he demands in a lower voice. Not angry…maybe impatient though.
“I cook for the Romanos and clean the mansion. I’m the estates caretaker, housekeeper, and groundskeeper.”
“You’re also Isabella’s pet. Her sex toy,” he rushes.
“I-I…” she stutters. “I don’t have sex with Isabella…or Cristian if that’s what you’re asking.”
“But you have sex with others if they tell you to do so,” he says.
There’s bitterness in his voice now. He’s most likely disgusted with the person sitting in front of him.
“Some—sometimes, their business friends need—need some convincing,” she informs him in yet another stuttering whisper. The shame of what she’s had to do hit her like a freight train.
“And the drugs?” he asks.
“Cristian started giving them to me when I turned twenty-one. To help relax—”
“To make you more compliant,” he cuts her off.
She nods her answer. There’s an undeniable change in the atmosphere as if the curtains are now drawn and she’s sitting in a darkened jail cell. Her cell guard is sitting in front of her and scrutinizing her every move.
“It became heavier doses and when—when I refused, he—he and his men started with the needles.”
Her trembling hands slide up and down her bare arms. She’s cold and shivering now, her stomach beyond knots.
“Okay,” he says softly. “We don’t have to talk anymore for now. You can go and get some rest if you need it.” His voice is gentle but it doesn’t soothe her.
Instead, she’s on her feet and rushing to the bathroom in the hallway. Slamming the door shut, she loses the little lunch that she had into and onto the toilet.
Chapter Twelve
Unable to sit and listen to her vomiting any longer, he leaves the house through the back door and walks down the path to the shaded gazebo.
He relaxes his fists during the walk and pockets his hands. The doggedness it took for him not to reach out and touch her, to hold her, and protect her was all too crushing. Even now, he’s feeling something fierce. These feelings shock the fuck out of him.
Years of self-control made him an expert at wearing the mask. He’s never faltered once with it especially when needed but he came too fucking close with Ariana. There’s an indescribable pull with her. There’s an innocence to her that still hasn’t been tarnished even through all of this.
For Christ’s sake…if ever he had considered wanting a woman next to him, he’d need a queen not a damsel in distress. And Ariana screams damsel.
Still…there’s a pull.
For fucks’ sake. She’s thirty-three years old yet barely a woman. It’s no surprise really since hearing her tell him what little she did say about her history. She’d been habituated her whole life to become a servant to the Romanos. A servant in every way.
The drugs. The mental and most likely physical abuse she must have endured was gut-wrenching to hear even in his business. This is why Kings were never in the business of dealing people. Everything else, they can live with. People though? Especially women and children? Never.
Yet, she survived. Over fifteen years, she lived through and survived.
She’s fighting but he can see that she doesn’t quite understand what will happen to her or what she needs to do. She’s become a submissive in every area of her life thanks to this debt. In her mind, she still doesn’t believe that she won’t end back with her tyrants. Her body may be free of them but her mind is still trapped in their cage.