terms with this arrangement. I expect you to smother any thoughts of rebellion you might have by breakfast tomorrow. Now, get your ass in the bed. I’m a light sleeper and there are guns hidden all over this room. I will hear you if you try to leave this bed.”
Left with no other choice, I pull on my clothes, not bothering with the bra. I hesitate for only a few seconds before climbing into bed, seeing it for the trap it is. Diego seems determined to control my every move now, which means I’ll have less freedom of movement than I did in that cell of a room upstairs.
What the hell have I gotten myself into?
After Diego gets in next to me, he swallows a handful of pills with some water before pressing a remote on the nightstand to kill the lights. I lay beside him and breathe. My every muscle is stiff, but my mind is racing as I wait for him to touch me, or force me to commit some sexual act. Why else strip me down and emphasize that he can do whatever he wants to me?
To my surprise, Diego doesn’t move a muscle. Within half an hour, his breathing deepens and slows, and I can tell he’s asleep.
I lay awake for another hour, wondering how the hell I’m going to get out of this hole I’ve dug for myself.
12
Elena
The first two days of my new place as Diego’s minion pass in a blur. My routine doesn’t change much from what it was in my isolated room. I’m delivered my three meals each day, eating most of them alone. Marcella visited twice to join me, seeming relieved to find me alive and mostly unscathed. I spend the rest of my time in solitude until Diego returns to his bedroom each night. He stays away until past midnight, always looking fatigued and strained when he walks through the door. We take turns using the shower, then get into bed. Every night, I wait for Diego to do something that will make me hate him more than I already do. It never happens. He always falls asleep once his cocktail of pills kicks in, turning his back and not moving until morning.
That offers me no reassurance. The look in his eyes when he watched me undress spoke volumes, and I know he intends to take advantage of our deal.
Will I refuse when the time comes? My first reaction to the thought is outright, vehement denial. Absolutely not. The man kidnapped me and will probably consider killing me every day for the foreseeable future. The idea of letting him fuck me is repulsive.
Except, a voice in the back of my mind says otherwise. I can’t pretend not to find him attractive with those swarthy good looks, that deep voice, and the body art. I guess it’s true what they say about girls being attracted to bad boys, even when they know it’s no good for them. Letting him use my body might work in my favor. If I give him what he wants, he might lower his guard and allow me more freedom. He might loosen the reins just enough for me to slip away, for good this time.
I tell myself it’ll never work. The way Marcella talked about her brother led me to believe he uses women like disposable toys. I won’t let myself think he wants me bad enough to soften, not even a little bit.
My meticulous search of Diego’s bedroom turned up no avenues of escape. There’s no technology in a suite he seems to only use for sleeping and grooming. No phones or laptops, not even a TV. There are two guards on the door every day, which surprisingly remains unlocked. Apparently, Diego doesn’t think I’d be stupid enough to try fighting my way out again.
The morning after that disaster, I was snatched out of sleep by loud pounding. Going to the window, I discovered a crew of men standing on ladders, hammering massive boards over it.
On the morning of the third day, I’m surprised to find Diego still in the room when I wake up. Mariana is there with my breakfast tray, and three other people are setting up an array of various beauty items on a table. Blinking and shaking my head, I realize this isn’t a weird dream. Something is happening and I’m the last to know about it.
“Good morning,” Diego says, standing at the foot of the bed.