Mateo.
Here.
The man who had given her more confidence and done more for her self-esteem than anyone else ever had, only to dash it all to pieces when he ghosted her five months ago.
It was because of him she was here.
Had to be.
Someone had been outside her apartment building at the same time she had been. He wasn't the one who had drugged her because she would have recognized him, but he was here now, which meant he was complicit in it.
Maybe the whole thing had been a ruse.
What if he’d only ever dated her with the purpose of lulling her into a false sense of security, seeing if she was what he and his sick friends were looking for? Then, when he’d determined she would be a good fit for this twisted place, he’d backed off, and he and his friends had waited for the perfect moment to make their move.
When she’d walked outside of her building alone after dark to head around the back to the trash bins, she’d given it to them, and they hadn't hesitated to take advantage.
She kept waiting for him to say something, do something. Apologize for lying to her, or tell her this was all just some mistake, some misunderstanding, some great big joke that she’d never understand. Even to mock her, taunt her, reinforce every doubt she’d ever had about herself, that she was a weak, stupid girl, that deserved to be picked on, and that everyone she loved would sooner or later leave her behind.
But Mateo said nothing.
His face was a blank canvas, not a single hint of the man she used to think looked at her with a tenderness she’d craved most of her life. Empty eyes, no hint of warmth, no hint of attraction, no hint of anything to indicate he was even alive. Not even a flicker of awareness that he even knew who she was, that they’d dated for a year, that they’d had sex dozens of times, that he’d pushed her boundaries and made her feel strong, given her a freedom she’d never experienced before.
Now there was coldness, where once there had been warmth.
Obviously, he’d never cared about her at all.
“On your knees, one four zero,” he spoke, and his voice lacked all the emotion she was used to hearing in it. One of the things that had attracted her to Mateo in the first place and made her feel safe with him was that he was so open with his emotions. She could always read what he was thinking in his eyes, in his tone, on his face.
Only now she knew she’d never really known the real Mateo Adler.
“Move, one four zero,” he snapped. “On your knees like the others. Palms on your thighs, eyes on the floor. You have to earn your food here.”
The harshness in his tone had her scrambling to comply, terrified of what he’d do to her if she didn't. It wasn't the lack of food that scared her. When she’d been living with her grandparents and their health began to decline, she’d often gone without meals because they couldn’t prepare them for her, or she had no access to money to buy food and prepare them herself.
What would he do to her other than deprive her of food?
Would he hit her? Beat her until she was a mass of bruises? Would he rape her?
Sex with Mateo had always been exciting and pleasurable. He was an attentive lover, giving her what she needed before she herself even knew what that was. Sometimes he could be rough with her, but in a gentle way, because she always felt like they were connected emotionally during sex, and that he cared about her and for her.
But now the thought of sex with this man left her feeling like she’d been doused in ice water.
When she heard the clink of a lock opening, her trembling grew so intense it was painful. Like electric shocks were jerking through her muscles. Ally didn't dare lift her gaze from where she’d fixed it firmly on the floor. Not only did she not want to incur Mateo’s wrath, but she was terrified to see that emptiness in his eyes again, to know that everything between them had been a lie.
How could she have been so wrong about him?
Of course, there had been doubts that a man who looked like he did, who was confident and self-assured, could ever fall for a little mouse like her, but she never in her wildest dreamsconsidered he could be a human trafficker, or at the very least some sort of sick monster who got off on locking up women.
Mouse.
That’s what Mateo called her. His sweet little mouse. She’d always thought it was a term of endearment, but now, seeing how he’d ordered her to her knees before him, she understood that it had always been an insult, she just hadn't been smart enough to figure that out.
“You don’t move until I give you permission,” Mateo told her, and she could see his sneaker, so she knew he was still standing before her.
As terrified of him as she was, a part of her was just waiting for him to burst into laughter and inform her she’d been pranked. The part of her that wanted to search his gaze for any signs of the man she’d fallen in love with. Because despite always feeling like he was out of her league, she hadn't been able to stop herself from falling for him. How could she? He’d been perfect. Everything she’d ever wanted, hoped for, or dreamed about.
Until he wasn't.