Artur leaned forward. “The rules might be few, but trust me, you wouldn’t want to make a mistake.” He pushed his seat back and stood. “Finish your soup. And clean the table. Make sure you clean the dog’s plates well, too.”
Before I could protest, he picked up the untouched plate of garlic bread, carrying it toward me. He placed it beside my soup with a grin that was nothing short of cruel.
“Enjoy your dinner, Alessia. Now I know you love salt.”
The words stung like a slap to the face. A proof that I was powerless. My fists tightened, but before I could say a word, he placed a hand on my shoulder. It was almost as if he were trying to mock me, to remind me of my place. Without warning, he left, his footsteps echoing as he exited the house.
“Son of a bitch.” I muttered under my breath and pushed the chair back. I stormed to where he had sat, grabbed the glass of water, and downed it in one gulp.
The burn in my throat eased, but the salt still lingered, refusing to leave. I leaned over the table, my hands pressed against its edge as I took deep, steadying breaths. My eyes shot daggers at the door he had exited through. I was losing my patience. My time in this house would be short-lived, especially if I followed through on the urge to poison him. The steak may be a goodplace to start. He seemed to love it.
Mara couldn’t possibly have fought to work in a place like this. She had to have had some serious issues to deal with.
My eyes scanned the massive dining room, the luxurious space feeling more like a gilded cage. The minibar caught my attention, with bottles of various alcohols and wines gleaming in the low light. After a moment’s hesitation, I took a few steps toward it, promising myself I would only glance. Until I saw the red wine Marco and I shared on his birthday.
The bottle was half-empty. The temptation was overwhelming, but I pushed it aside. There was no way I would dare to drink that bottle of expensive Italian wine.
Still, I couldn’t shake off the thought.
A glass wouldn’t hurt, would it? Just a sip to forget about the hell I was living in. To numb the frustration and weariness that had taken root deep inside me. Artur’s cold eyes burned into my mind. They dared me to try.
And I tried. I did.
Chapter Ten
Alessia
My body felt weak. Everymuscle ached, like a thousand invisible hands were pressing into me from all sides. It was the pain that made you question if you had been in a fight the night before, or worse, if you had lost a fight you initiated. The only thing I knew for sure was that the dull throb in my head, pulsing with the rhythm of my heartbeat, had not come from a peaceful night’s sleep.
I woke up gasping, my lungs working overtime as my eyes blinked open. I adjusted to the light filtering through the cabin. My head pounded like a drum, and I fought against the urge to curl back into the blankets.
Where the hell was I?
The last time I felt this way was when I got drunk at a club with Carina. It had always been the same, the pain that seemedto stretch through every bone in my body.
Memories came crashing back: the wine, the bottle, and the laughter. But that was where the recollection stopped. Nothing beyond that. It was like a hole ripped through my memory, leaving nothing but fog in its wake.
My shoulders tensed, and I froze at the thought of Artur. The name and all the things he could do to me flashed through my mind. I shot up from the bed, my breath quickening as anxiety clawed at my chest.
If I drank that wine, Artur would kill me. My vision blurred, and I wiped my eyes with my hand. He would…
Wait, was I dreaming? I could see Artur. He was here.
Artur sat across from me, his figure draped in a black suit that only added to the menacing air about him. He casually crossed one leg over the other, fixing his focus on a laptop screen. He was still, but the tension in the room was palpable; it was like a storm waiting to break.
I gripped the comforter against my chest, trying to steady my racing thoughts. As my gaze swept the room, a sick feeling settled in my stomach. We were on a plane. My heart skipped a beat.
What the hell was going on? I spotted a silver dress hanging in an empty wardrobe, the fabric gleaming under the light. My stomach lurched as I remembered the red dress he once sent as a gift. The presence of a dress meant trouble. It always did with him.
He knew I was awake. But he didn’t even glance at me.
“Where... where are we going?” My voice came out hoarse, though I didn’t know if that was the right question. It was better than silence, right?
He didn’t answer.
Frustration bubbled up, but I forced myself to keep calm. I swung my legs off the bed, and my eyes immediately landed onthe huge stain on my white shirt. It was clear as day that it was red wine.
Clearing my throat, I tried to piece together some explanation. “Last night I…” I faltered when his gaze finally locked on mine. “I can explain,” I added, the words tumbling out with a nervous urgency I couldn’t hide.