When I wake up, it’s to an empty bed. That’s not shocking; it’s been that way for the last five days. I huff a breath, my frustration getting the better of me. Why am I even annoyed? It should make me happy that the big, old sexy jerk isn’t around. The man I met that first night was so different from the one who kidnapped me.
The only time Matteo seems to be around is in the middle of the night. It’s not like he tries to even talk to me. I usually wake up to him sliding my panties down my legs to make a feast of me. No words are ever exchanged. I can still sense an anger and a coldness to him, as if he’s fighting some sort of inner battle and losing. Regardless, each night he comes to give me pleasure, never taking anything for himself.
Once he’s exhausted me with orgasms, I usually drift back to sleep. Sometimes, I wonder if it was real or if I dreamed it. I toss the covers back to see that it wasn’t a dream. My panties are gone, and there is a faint red irritation on the inside of my thighs from his afternoon shadow.
He avoids me at all other times, leaving me trapped in this room to slowly go insane. I slip from bed in no rush to start my day. There is nothing for me to do. I’m brought all of my meals. At least I have a TV. That’s about it.
Is he going to keep me locked in his bedroom forever? The feeling of loneliness is slowly drowning me. I pull back the curtains, letting the sunlight in. Behind Matteo’s house, there is a stone landing leading out to a pool. Beyond it, there is a garden that bleeds into rolling hills. We must be on the edge of the city.
I give a small wave to one of the patrolmen. At least that’s what I think he’s doing. There is someone always wandering around down there and outside my door. It makes me wonder if they’ve always been on duty here or are they watching me? The man glances my way but does not return my greeting.
“Whatever.” I yank them closed and flop back on the bed, pulling the blanket over my head. I must drift back to sleep because I jerk awake at the sound of something outside the bedroom door.
“Move out of the way.” It’s a female voice. “Sal, if you don’t move—”
Oh crap. Is this some lover of Matteo’s? The thought makes my heart sink. I glance around the room, wondering if I should hide. My hand goes to my stomach protectively, but I don’t get the chance to move before both doors fly open.
A tall woman with short silver hair comes striding into the bedroom. I’d guess she’s in her sixties or so. Her eyes land right on me. She shakes her head.
“What am I going to do with that boy?” She keeps shaking her head. “Well, this ends today.” The woman strides over to me with a bright smile. “I’m Emma. I’ve been running this place since Matteo was in diapers.” Emma gives me a hug. It’s tight, reminding me of my sister. I hug her back, and tears start to sting at my eyes.
“I’m Mona,” I tell her.
“I know, honey.” Emma lets out a deep sigh. “You’re no longer going to be locked away up here.”
“Can I go home?” Her smile falters for a moment, letting me know that’s nowhere in the near future for me. Do I even want to go home? While I miss my sister, I don’t miss my father or brother. Plus, if I don’t go home, I can’t get married to Vincent. But I also don’t want to live with Matteo if he’s going to continue to be this distant cold jerk that keeps me locked away like a damn prisoner. Either way, I’m screwed.
“Honey, this is your home now.”
“Right,” I whisper, stepping away from her.
“Give it time. You’ll see.” A full smile returns to her face. It meets her eyes, but I’m not sure I believe her. “There was a delivery for you. Matteo is out right now, and I’m not going to make you wait all day to get the items.”
“What?” Why would I have a delivery?
“Sal,” Emma calls. “Have those boxes and racks brought up for Miss Mona.”
“Got it,” he responds.
“No wonder. You’re a beauty.” Emma lets out a small laugh. ‘You’ve got that boy tied in knots.”
“Boy?”
“Matteo.”
Matteo is no boy, and I don’t think I have Matteo in any real way. He might be attracted to me, but that’s all surface-level stuff. I’m sure once he finds out I’m pregnant with his baby, the novelty will wear off.
A few men come walking in with boxes of items and garment bags. “Did you snitch on me, Sal?” Emma puts her hands on her hips.
“Yes, but it doesn’t matter. He would know either way.” Sal lays the garment bag near the door. None of them step more than a few feet into the room. They never do. Even my food tray is always left right at the entry. The one I missed from breakfast is still there untouched. How long did I sleep? What does it matter?
“Of course he does.” Emma rolls her eyes. The men leave, closing the door behind them. “All right.” She claps her hands together. “We have time.”
“I’ve got all the time in the world.” I let out a humorless laugh.
“Well, these are the items Matteo got for you. Feel free to get dressed and then come down and have something to eat. You missed breakfast and lunch.”
“Wait?” I perk up.
“You must eat.” She motions to my full tray. I haven’t had much of an appetite.
“I can come down and eat?”
“I told you. No more being locked away.”
“Really?” I’m dying to get out of this room. Emma’s face grows serious.
“Yes, you can leave the room. You, however, cannot go to the basement, Matteo’s office, or outside beyond the back patio.” I nod. I understand all these rules. I’ve spent my whole life with them. That will never change. “All right, then. I’ll leave you to it, honey.” I watch her go.
I stare at all the boxes, feeling overwhelmed. I push one aside and start digging to find something to wear. I have always had a slight obsession with clothing; however, I am currently in dire need of getting out of this room. I’m more focused on finding any old thing to wear just for a taste of freedom.
“Oh my.” I hold up an emerald pair of silk panties. They’re beautiful, reminding me of my own eyes. Has he really picked this out for me? No, I think he paid someone to do that. I pull them on and find a cute white summery dress and a pair of gold flats. Just having different clothes perks me up a bit. I know it sounds ridiculous.
Checking myself over in the bathroom, I brush my hair out and quickly finish getting ready. When I open the bedroom door, Sal is standing there. He’s not as tall as Matteo, but he’s built like one of those bodybuilders. His plain black shirt is so snug, I think he might hulk out.
I freeze, remembering Matteo ordering me to stay put in the room. How pissed will he be? I’m guessing pretty pissed, but I honestly don’t give a crap.
“Are you going to stop me?” I ask, stepping out of the room. Sal doesn’t move. Nor does he respond. “Okay, then.” I start walking. When I get about ten feet down the hallway, I peek over my shoulder to see that he’s following behind me.
It’s not until I make it downstairs to the white marble entryway that I realize I don’t know where the kitchen is. I would ask Sal, but he’s not talking to me.
“Do you know where the kitchen is?” I ask another man standing by the entryway. I swear he stares right through me. I guess the hate for my family runs deep around here. I can’t say I blame them. I tuck a piece of hair behind my ear, the red standing out against my white dress, reminding everyone who I am.
An O’Haire. I don’t belong, and I never will.
