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"Then why are you here? Is he holding you against your will too? Listen, if we work together, we can probably get out."
He gave me a wry smile. "Sweetheart, I don't work for him, but he's not holding me against my will. I know that you're scared, but as long as I'm here, no one is going to hurt you in this house, okay? But you need to just stay here for the time being until he says you can go, okay?"
"He's never letting me out of here. I know how this ends. I die. Or worse, much worse, I could get sold off to someone. I could—"
He held up a hand. "Easy does it. Like I said, as long as I'm here, nothing bad is going to happen to you. Now, why don't you have a seat and eat your stew. I put some cornbread on the side there too."
"Cornbread? Isn't that an American thing?"
"Yeah, my Jasmine, she spent a lot of time in the States too. So we used to make a hodgepodge of food."
"Where is she? Downstairs being held against her will?"
His smile became sad, and he shook his head. "She died about six years ago."
Fuck.
I don't know why, but I felt a sudden wave of sadness for one of my apparent captors. "I'm sorry."
"Yeah, me too. She would have been even more against what Drake is doing. And trust me, she would’ve given him hell."
"But let me guess, she wouldn't let me go either?"
"No, not when being here is probably the safest place you could be for the time being."
I eyed the stew. "Is it drugged?"
He sighed. "No, honey." But he nodded as if he understood and went over and took one of the spoons he had given me. "Here, see?" He took a bite and didn’t keel over so I tentatively picked up the spoon. "Good girl. Now, I want you to eat then try and get some rest."
He eyed the bed, then his gaze met mine and he winked. "I don't know what you're up to, girl, but whatever it is, give him hell."
I blinked wide-eyed at him. "What?"
He shrugged. "I think he needs someone who isn't just going to do what he says."
"But didn't you just tell me I have to stay here?"
"Yes, you do.” He shrugged. “However, you don't have to be docile about it."
"You're telling me I should try to piss him off?"
He chuckled. "I'm saying it would be entertaining for me if you did. You would still be in this house, but it might get out some of those frustrations."
“And if I escape?”
He grinned at me. "That's the spirit. But you won’t. And like I said, no one's going to hurt you. If he tries, you tell me. You holler for all your worth, and I will come running with a gun."
"Guns are illegal."
He laughed. "You think I don't know that?"
"Right. You know him, so obviously, you have a gun."
"Honey, no one is going to shoot you either. Now eat. Don't make my hard work go to waste. It's not drugged, okay? Eat. Then I'll come back and take your tray."
"Thanks," I mumbled. I was hungry, and I did need to keep up my strength. I hadn’t eaten a thing since lunch, thanks to Massimo.
"You're welcome. And for what it's worth, I'm working on getting you out of here sooner. He will just take some time to convince." And then he was gone, leaving me with soup and a spoon. A spoon I might be able to use.
