“Am I going to be cleaning this place or something?” I peer out the window, trying to get a better look at the enormous house. Maybe that’s what he’ll do with me. Keep me here to make sure my mouth is shut and his baseboards are scrubbed. But then I think about the pet name he gave me and how he’s treated me so softly. It’s confusing.
He lets out a laugh as his hand comes to mine. He strokes my palm in a light caress as his other one comes to my cheek. I still at the touch.
“I’m going to make sure your hands are as soft as they should be.” I look down and watch as he touches me. I’ve got calluses from working at the diner. “You won’t have to lift a finger if you don’t want to.”
I want to believe him, but can I?
“I’ll have to do something for you in return, won’t I?” I look up at him. Our eyes lock and I see hunger in his stare. He wants me. Deep down I knew that was the reason he brought me here.
“You have the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen. Do they run in your family?” he asks, changing the subject and not answering me. I’m guessing a man like him doesn’t do anything he doesn’t want to.
I shake my head, unsure of the answer. I’ve never see someone else with eyes like mine. Maybe in magazines. No one else seems to have the purple that runs along the pupil like mine do.
“Don’t move.” He gets out of the car and comes over to my side, opening the door for me. He offers me his hand and helps me from his car that’s worth more than a house. Clearly he’s beyond rich.
He helps me from the car, pulling me to him and pressing my body to his.
“Why are you doing this? You’re just going to kill me.” I look up at him. His face is unreadable as he stares down at me.
“What have I done to make you think that?” He pulls me even closer so there is no space between our bodies.
“I just don’t understand. I know you want me here for sex,” I say. I pause for a second, and he doesn’t deny it. “I’m sure you have plenty of willing women who can do that for you.” I pull my eyes from him, feeling my cheeks burn with embarrassment. I have no idea why I’m talking myself out of being useful to him. I should latch on to anything I can at the moment so I can stay alive. But for some reason it hurts deep down that he wants to use me as some plaything. Maybe I should find a way to escape, but looking at this place, I can already tell it’s a fortress. And where would I go?
“No,” he says. He grabs my hand, locking my fingers with his. “It’s you I want, and it’s you I’ll have.” He walks toward the house, and I have no choice but to move my feet and keep up with him. His grip on my hand is unyielding.
When he gets to the front door, it opens for us, and a man in a uniform steps out of the way and inclines his head to Salvatore.
“Sir,” he says quietly.
“Fred, this is Thea. Thea, is this Fred.”
“Hi,” I mumble. He gives me a small nod as well but doesn’t meet my eyes.
“Everything is ready,” he tells Salvatore.
“Thank you. This way, angel. Let me show you to the room.”
We walk through the entrance and down a long marble-floored hall.
“I’m not having sex with you,” I blurt out.
My face burns with embarrassment all over again when I see an older woman trying to fight a smile as she walks by us holding a stack of towels. Salvatore ignores me like I didn’t say anything. Probably because he doesn’t care what I have to say.
He leads me up a staircase that is made of the same white marble as the hallway. At the top, we have the choice to go one of three ways: left, right, or straight ahead. He goes straight without pausing, leading me down another long hallway. All the walls are covered in paintings that look like they should be in a museum. At the end of the hall, there is a set of black double doors that must be ten feet tall.
“I’m not having sex with you,” I say again, trying to put more force behind it.
His fingers tighten on mine. Then suddenly he turns to face me, and I run into the brick wall of his chest. I look up at him and see he’s smiling down at me now. I wonder what’s made him so happy. “Stop smiling, I’m serious. You’ll have to force me,” I yell.
My breath stills in my lungs, realizing I just yelled at him. I step back, scared he might smack me or something. He’s given me no reason to think he’d do something like that. In fact, when I saw him at my door today, I felt comfort. As crazy as that feeling was, I know who he really is.
What if he’s one of those people who just flips? He goes from one extreme to another. I had a cousin like that and I did my best to give him a wide berth. You never knew who you were getting, and I’m scared Salvatore might be that way, too.