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Just as well. The privacy allows me the time to cool off, to shrug off the weird feelings that came over me when I heard Silus say he’s doing it for my comfort. I mean, what the hell was he trying to get at? Why should he care at all about my comfort? He freaking kidnapped me and is keeping me in this locked room unless I’m under his direct supervision.
I do a lot of pacing the rest of the day.
The room has no windows and I have no clock, so I don’t know what time it is when Silus comes in with two plates of food, but when he does he tells me Max is out of that warehouse already.
“My men are moving him as we speak,” Silus informs me. “He will have access to a bed and a toilet, along with a shower. Just like you. You’re both living in the lap of luxury, considering.”
All I can do is openly gape at him. “Luxury? Just ‘cause you got me silk sheets and I’m allowed to shower doesn’t make this a luxury—”
“Doesn’t it? Most kidnapping victims aren’t afforded those luxuries.”
“Most people don’t kidnap their kidnappers in response to being kidnapped,” I mutter. “And most people who are kidnapped to begin with aren’t mafia bosses, so…” I trail off, frowning to myself.
Silus is watching. The two plates of food are resting on the foot of my bed, untouched so far. “Where are you going with this?”
“I don’t know! I’m just saying, none of this is ordinary.”
“Clearly.”
“And you, you’re—”
He lifts his dark brows. “I’m what?” When I don’t go on, he says, “Please, tell me what I am, Thea, or what you believe me to be. I’m waiting with bated breath.” The corners of his mouth curl with the slightest hint of a smirk.
There are so many things I could say, so many things I shouldn’t say. In the end, I settle with, “You’re not what I thought you’d be.” I grab my plate after that and stuff my mouth full so I don’t have to say anything else.
Silus doesn’t push the issue, but based on the way his smirk only grows, I can tell he’s satisfied enough with my response.
Great. As if I need this guy to get a bigger ego.
Chapter Twelve – Thea
Days turn into a week. To my surprise, we don’t have a repeat of the first day, when he made me get on my knees for him and then made me lose my mind with his hands—a good thing, definitely.
Silus sets up a camera and a TV in my room so I can videocall Max and talk to him, and when I do, I find out Silus kept his word. Max is in a bedroom, not handcuffed or chained to anything. But he’s got guards with him at all times, guards who are twice as big as he is, and he’s smart enough to know that means any escape attempts will be futile.
All in all, everyone falls into a steady routine. If this is what it’s going to be like, my imprisonment here with Silus, I can handle it. I can do it, no problem. Easy-peasy. And now that I have a TV in my room, I can watch shows and keep my mind busy so I don’t think about Silus twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.
My plan is to keep my head down, don’t make a fuss, and get through this with everything intact.
You know, my body, mainly. As much as said body enjoyed being bent over and forced to come by Silus, it’s probably a bad idea to repeat it. Asking for trouble. If it happens again, this body of mine might just become addicted to the one man it shouldn’t.
Another week goes by. Two whole weeks so far. I think I’m getting the hang of it. It’s a day like every other: I get up after sleeping in, Silus lets me into the bathroom, where I shower and get ready for the day. I always assume he stands outside the door, just to make sure I don’t try to run, but when I emerge from the bathroom, I don’t find Silus anywhere.
I’ll admit, the thought of running does cross my mind, but the truth of the matter is I don’t know where Max is being held, and he doesn’t know, either. We might talk to each other every day, but he has no idea where he is.
I don’t run. I walk to my room by myself, my hair damp. My feet skid to a halt when I spot a neat box resting atop my bed, a box that definitely wasn’t there before. A thin, white box with a lacy red ribbon on it.
What the…
My brows furrow as I step toward the bed. Since it’s here, I can safely assume it’s for me, some weird present. I pluck at the bow to untie the ribbon, and once it’s loose enough, I lift the lid of the box and see an article of clothing neatly folded within.
I reach for it and pull it out of the box, and it comes and comes and comes, seemingly never-ending. Once it’s fully out of the box, I stand there with my arms outstretched and the item of clothing in full display as it hangs before me.
A dress. A long, elegant black dress. I don’t know what sort of fabric it’s made of, but being folded in the box did not put a single wrinkle in it. It has no jewels on it, no lace. The dress is sleeveless and goes up to the neck, the shoulders bare. It’s the kind of dress a rich woman might wear when she goes out to dinner with her husband somewhere fancy. It isn’t my sort of thing.
But… it is pretty.
I look back at the box and see a card resting in the center. The dress hid the card from me. I set the dress down on the bed and read what’s written on the card.
