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“Don’t worry, Alyssa, you’ll be free of these assholes in no time,” I tell myself. I refuse to look too closely at the part of my heart that feels broken when I think of leaving Antonio behind. Logically, I know he’s dangerous, and bad for me, but the rest of me refuses to trust in the logical part of my considerations.
***
It takes me three more days of blowjobs accompanied by hours of sex to make Antonio roll over, look into my eyes, and say the words I long to hear.
“You’ve been a good toy. You deserve a reward,” he says. “What do you want? Don’t go crazy,” he says.
I smile. “I’ll try not to,” I say. I pretend to think, and I turn to him.
“Can I get a chance to walk around the mansion freely?” I ask.
Before he can refuse, I cut in, “I am thinking of redecorating just because I am bored, and I would just like to get a feel of the house. I promise I won’t set foot outside the house,” I say.
His eyes scan my face, looking for untruths, but my eyes are clear. I do not intend to step out of the house. Everything I want to take is inside his building—the document and, eventually, his life.
He nods. “If that’s what you want, you can walk around freely. I’ll inform the guards that you’re free to move around.”
I smile and clap softly.
“Don’t get carried away. They’ll be on strict orders to do what is needed if you’re seen doing anything you shouldn’t be doing,” he says.
I nod happily. “Of course. You have nothing to worry about,” I say.
He reclines on the bed and closes his eyes. The thought comes to my head of how easy it would be to pull the pillow over his head and hold it down till I snuffed the life out of him.
Would it be enough repayment for me, though?
My grip on the pillow tightens as I imagine him gasping, kicking, and begging to be free. Could I actually do it? Do I have a choice? Giovanni will hurt my family if I don’t hurt Antonio, but it’s becoming increasingly clear to me that I don’t want to have to hurt the dark, dangerous man lounging in bed with me.
“Get me a drink,” comes his voice, jolting me out of my reverie.
“Huh?” I ask, returning to my body.
“You can walk around the house now. That means you can fix me a drink,” he says with his eyes still closed.
“Oh, of course,” I say, tossing the pillow aside. I try to toss aside my annoyance as well. I get up and slide on my dressing gown.
“What drink do you want?” I ask.
“You mix drinks at the club. Wow me,” he says.
A mere few days ago, he wouldn’t even let me touch his drink, and now, he is brazenly telling me to fix him a drink.
“And needless to say, don’t try anything funny. You’ll take the first sip,” he says, turning to the side.
I look down at him with clenched fists.
“It hurts me that you think that of me,” I say as sweetly as I can before I walk out of the door into the hallway.
“He says you can let me move around,” I say to the guards at my door.
They look inside the room, and he gives them a thumbs up. I walk down the corridor, feeling a strange sense of freedom that almost feels pitiful. I have lived as a prisoner for so long that I have simply forgotten what it feels like to move around like a normal human.
As I walk down the long stretch of corridors, my eyes fall on a room that looks like a study or an office. I look around. There are no guards in sight. Giovanni messaged me earlier today about the document. Where else would it be other than in the office?
I look around one last time, push open the door, and slide into the study.
I close the door quietly behind me and wedge it with a chair. My eyes sweep the room with its old-fashioned furniture and a big desk. I walk to the desk and quickly begin to open the drawer. I pull out some files and begin to shuffle through them in search of the document I need.
