Sold To Mr. Milano - Daniella Wright Page 0,12
necessities. Even those accommodations were nicer than I would have expected. The wooden floors had a rougher stain than the polished mahogany in the rest of the manor. The old pinstriped wallpaper was faded and torn in some places. There was a four-post bed, a small bedside table, and a wardrobe. The adjoined tiny bathroom was without windows or any doors aside from the one connected to the bedroom.
The most startling thing in the room was the two guards with big guns that stayed firmly planted, preventing me from even thinking about going anywhere. They also made it difficult for me to know how to act. I was grateful for the door in the bathroom because without it I had a feeling they wouldn’t flinch to keep standing there as I went about my private business.
It did afford me the chance to sneak away long enough to remove my prosthetic belly long enough to air out my sweaty skin. I hated to put the cumbersome thing back on. It definitely made me question any longing I might ever have to be a mother. I was sure the real thing would be uncomfortable, but not in the same way as having that big bulky thing strapped on underneath your clothes.
An hour or so after I had been delivered to the room, I guessed since the guards removed the only clock upon my arrival, the staff brought in fresh linens and a change of clothes. So much had happened I had somehow nearly forgotten I had been without pants this entire time. I managed to keep my head held high despite the fact that I was basically being held prisoner in nothing but a shirt and panties.
Once I had washed up and put on decent clothing, a flowing gown to fit over my falsely pregnant body, I was served dinner. It was a traditional Argentinian meal, but I could tell it had been prepared by a very talented chef. It was a wonder Alberto hadn’t ordered them to serve me scraps or some equivalent of prison food.
The setup was almost too kind to be believable, and I knew things wouldn’t stay like this forever. Alberto would have no motivation to keep me hidden away in a corner of his house, draining their food and board - not to mention manpower for the total of four guards he kept on watch over me. Sooner or later, he would make other uses of me. I knew if I didn’t play my cards right, the outcome would likely not be in my favor.
The next morning I was served a good breakfast, comparable to dinner from the night before. I was given another clean gown, and just after eleven, the guards gave me leave to take a bath and dress for the day. Of course, after that, there was nothing for me to do but sit and stare at the walls, or else stare at the two big burly men staring blankly ahead from their post in front of the door. But I was safe and comfortable...as much as I could be within the walls of the Milano estate.
The unexpected hospitality got me to thinking...If he cared enough to provide these accommodations for me, maybe I could take things a step further. The number of staff members I had seen so far were plentiful, not to mention the number of men on the property working for Alberto directly. Then there were his partners who carried their weapons more discreetly and wore expensive suits. There were probably a lot of people needed to maintain the property and all of its functions. If I was going to be here for the time being anyway, why not make myself of some use?
My plans and mission at the black market may have been foiled or at least detoured for the time being, but it did give me another unique opportunity. If I had even just a little more freedom on the grounds, I could keep an eye on the Milanos. Who knew what kind of information I could find on their underground business dealings.
Some time after lunch, I stood to address one of the men in my room. “Excuse me, sir. I request to speak to Alberto Milano, please.”
He blinked, but didn’t turn his head toward me in the slightest, much less speak. So, I tried again.
“I am sorry to interrupt your...busy workday. I just...well, as I said, it is very important for me to speak to Mr. Milano. Could