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“No,” I say, shaking my head. “I’ll bring it to her. You have a nice night, Maeve. Thank you for coming on such short notice.”
The little old Irish maid pauses for a moment before finally heeding my command. Handing me the plate, she takes one last good look at me before turning around.
“Be gentle with the girl,” she says, before waddling away.
I don’t know what to say in response. I’m not used to servants speaking so openly to me. But Maeve is no ordinary maid. She came straight from the Kilpatricks. Apparently, she worked for their father. The brothers have all known her since childhood. That was good enough for me. Ray called her the second I told him I was leaving Sophia alone for a little while. At the time, I figured I’d only be gone for a night.
But Ray knew better. Somehow, he understood that I’d be away for longer than a night. And he knew just the person to call to look after my captive. Maeve has the experience, he assured me. You take some time off. Get your mind right.
Well, my mind’s still not right, but I’m back. And all I can think about is the girl I have locked upstairs.
How long has she been confined to that room for now? Almost week? She must be going crazy. There are no windows. There’s no fresh air. There’s nothing to do but think and get lost in your own dark thoughts.
A sliver of guilt cuts through my chest.
Fuck. I really am a monster.
And I don’t know if I can ever make amends for that. It’s who I am—at least, that’s what I tell myself as I bring this steaming bowl of soup up to Sophia’s room.
When I find that the door is still locked, just as I ordered, I’m not sure what to feel. But I don’t sit around trying to figure it out. I’ve stalled enough already. Whatever is about to happen, it needs to happen now.
Unlocking the door, I push my way inside.
Sophia is lying in bed, back turned away from the door. But when she hears my footsteps, she turns around to face me.
“You’re back…”
It’s hard to tell how she feels about that. There’s a tinge of everything in her words. Surprise. Anger. Disappointment. Excitement. Sadness.
“… And I’ve brought soup…” I mumble, lifting up the steaming bowl.
“How kind of you,” she replies, sarcasm dripping off of every word. Whatever shock took hold of her just now is already gone.
This is the little firecracker that made me act so stupid. She’s dangerous like this.
Still, her sarcasm almost makes me smile. Not that I let myself do something so foolish. I won’t allow myself to get so vulnerable ever again. It’s a death trap.
Setting the dish down on her nightstand, I take note of the new nightgown she’s wearing. It’s not as revealing as the one I first stole her in, but it still shows just enough leg to catch my attention.
Fuck. I’ve had this pretty little thing locked up here for two days, and I’ve just ignored her. Why? Because I’m scared of what she’ll think of me if I take what I really want?
Coward.
“I have some more questions for you,” I say, stepping back to give her some space as she crawls to the edge of the bed, towards her food.
“Oh? And where’s the torture lingerie you’re going to use to get me to talk?”
Fuck. I can’t help it. A tiny smirk forces its way onto my lips.
“Do I need to bring it out, or are you willing to cooperate without it?”
Before answering, Sophia takes a spoonful of soup and blows on it until the steam has vanished. Her puckered lips make me shift in place. My cock is already halfway hard. I remember what those lips tasted like. Fucking hell, I want more.
No. Not now. Not yet.
“That depends on what you’re going to ask me…” she says, before swallowing the spoonful.
“I’ll ask you whatever I want,” I remind her. “Don’t think I’ve gotten soft just because I brought you dinner.”
