Reclining in my chair, I swirled the drink in my hand after taking a sip. My eyes were fixed on the monitor showing the live footage of my prisoner.
She walked through the rows of towering shelves, head lowered as she read a book. I watched her trace her fingers along the spines of neatly arranged books while humming a song.
She picked out a few books from the shelves, then stared at the camera with a blank expression. My brows drew together, wondering what she was up to. This crazy little she-devilrearranged the books she’d withdrawn, making sure none were in the right place.
My face twisted into a small frown.
She glanced back at the camera with a sheepish grin that clearly told me she did that on purpose. She must’ve realized that I liked my things organized, spotless, and clean. Rearranging stuff inmyhouse was like looking for trouble; she was aware of that. Yet she did it.
This girl didn’t stop there; she went ahead to rearrange the flowers in the library. And while she was doing that, she accidentally knocked over an expensive vase.
I knew it was an accident because when it shattered across the floor, she flinched in fear. Shocked, she stood there, frozen in place with a hand over her mouth. Her chest was heaving slowly as she stared down at the pieces of the broken vase.
She clenched her jaw and glanced up at the camera before crouching low. I watched her pick up the broken pieces one by one, and although I wasn’t in the same room with her, I could still sense her nervousness.
A small knowing smirk played at the corners of my mouth as I watched her fidget. I wasn’t sure whether to be angry about what she broke or glad that she was scared of the consequences.
One thing was certain, though: She’d wanted my attention, and now she had it.
I drank the vodka like it was orange juice, then called Konstantin to fetch the girl.
A few minutes later, the door opened, and they both walked in. Konstantin gave me a curt nod before stepping out and closing the door behind him.
I sat in my chair, wearing my usual blank expression as I studied her behavior. For the first few seconds, her head wasbowed, unable to meet my gaze. Her dark curls cascaded down her face as she bit the nail on her pinky finger.
“Come closer,” I said, my voice startling her.
Her shoulders flinched ever so slightly, and she obeyed, drawing nearer.
“Do you know why you’re here?”
Her throat bobbled, and she glanced up at me, then shook her head.
I squinted my eyes. “This is the second time you’re lying to my face.” I let the words sink in for a moment. “There might not be a third.”
As if triggered by my subtle threat, she raised her head and held my gaze. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
I almost arched my brows at her response but didn’t say anything. For some reason, that initial fear in her eyes was gone, replaced by anger and something darker.
“How do you expect me to know why you sent for me when you haven’t said anything?” she added, her voice low but laced with disdain. “I’m not a mind-reader. If you have something to say to me, say it.”
Nothing could’ve prepared me for this reaction, especially because just seconds ago, she was shaking like a leaf. Overwhelmed with fear. Now, she was courageous enough to look me in the eyes and express herself without fear.
I hesitated, unsure of what to do to her at this point. Despite my reservations, I was amused by her effrontery. It was disrespectful. Yet intriguing.
“You have a sharp tongue, don’t you?”
“Only when I feel attacked,” she answered. “Or threatened.”
At this point, I almost smiled. Almost.
“You broke my flower vase,” I said, my voice low and even. “Do you have any idea how much that cost?”
She paused. “It was an accident.”
“And the other stuff you rearranged?”
Her eyes flicked toward the monitor displaying the live footage of her room, the library, and other sections of the mansion.