A few moments later, I caught sight of Lucia. She didn’t see me. I slowed to her pace, watching her, lean muscle working as she leaped over a tree stump and avoided a moss-covered boulder. She’d bound her long hair in a ponytail that bounced from side to side, and sweat glistened on her bare shoulders. She wore a sports bra and shorts, the white fabric bright against her lightly tanned skin. Earbuds connected to an iPhone secured on her arm told me why I was able to get so close without her hearing me.
I caught up, startling her. She stopped, clutching her chest.
“Stop doing that!” she said, pulling the earbuds from her ears.
“I was behind you for the last five minutes. You should be more aware of your surroundings.” The music was loud enough that I could clearly make out the song. Mumford and Sons. “You don’t need that anyway, not when you run in the woods.” I loved the stillness of this place, the peace I found as soon as I disappeared into the cover of the trees.
She looked me over. “You’re running?”
I nodded. “You’re up early.”
“Couldn’t sleep.”
“Me either.” I glanced up toward the place I ran to, a clearing on a hill that gave the best view of the sunrise. “Come on. I’ll show you something.”
I turned and ran. It took her a moment, and I imagined her mind working up some snarky comment, but then she followed. I slowed my pace so she could keep up, and we ran in silence for the next twenty minutes, climbing up the slope. Lucia slowed, her breathing coming shorter but her condition obviously good. Used to running.
“Wow.”
I heard the awe in her voice as we reached the top of the hill. The sun had just broken through the clouds, and the sky was a wash of orange and pink and red.
“This is…amazing.”
She walked a bit farther. I watched, finding myself smiling.
“Beautiful,” she muttered.
“It’s the one good thing about being an insomniac. I never miss the sunrises.”
She glanced back at me, and I realized how easily I’d given away that piece of myself. I imagined the staff at the house knew I slept little, but no one else.
Lucia returned her gaze to the sky. I watched her framed by this show of lights.
“How long have you been like that? Unable to sleep, I mean.”
“As long as I can remember.” I was twenty-nine now so maybe fifteen years.
We watched the sunrise in silence. When the sun had crested, she turned to me, her whiskey eyes shining bright, the accusations of last night absent this morning, although her gaze remained cautious.
“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do,” she finally said, her arms folded across her chest, defensive and closed.
“That makes two of us.”
She scrunched up her forehead. “I don’t understand.”
“I’m not a monster, Lucia, but I am my father’s son. I am obligated, just as you are.” She studied me. “You choose how hard you want to make this on yourself. There are worse things than being in my care.”
“In your care?”
“Yes, my care. It could have been my brother. Or my father. Where do you think you’d be if it had been either of them instead of me?”
“I don’t see the difference.”
Her words got to me. “Fine, let me simplify this for you. You’re to be obedient.”
“I don’t even know what that means. Do you expect me to just…” She glanced away, a blush creeping up her neck to her cheeks. “What do you want?” she finally asked, straightening, obviously forcing herself to look at me.
“Your obedience.”
She opened her mouth to speak, but I stepped closer to her and placed my finger over her lips.
“Hear my words, Lucia. I expect your obedience. I didn’t say want. I own you, no matter how you feel about that. I can make this good for you.” I couldn’t keep my gaze from wandering to the soft swell of her breasts before they returned to hers. “Or I can make it bad. It’s up to you how this goes.”
“It was supposed to be my sister,” she said, a sheen of tears obscuring her eyes.
Looking at her, helpless, alone—and she was alone—only made me want to comfort and reassure her. So opposite what I was supposed to do.
“But she got herself pregnant.” She turned her back to me and wiped one hand across her eyes before turning and looking at me again. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do here. Are you…” she floundered again. “Do you… Fuck. Never mind.”
Without warning, she bolted back toward the house, her pace faster now. I followed easily, keeping a short distance between us, unsure how to answer her questions, not knowing myself what the hell I wanted from her. Her obedience, what the hell did that mean? That she sit when I say sit and fetch when I say fetch? It was so much more than that. A woman like Lucia DeMarco didn’t simply give her submission. A man would have to earn it.