by Mason, V. F.
Now though I have no clue, and it unsettles me.
The man puts his glass on the table, walks toward me, and then extends his hand with the key. “Open your cuffs.” I blink in surprise, never hearing such a request before as all these fuckers are afraid I might kill them if they give me freedom. Some have even roped my legs.
Is this some kind of trick?
“Open,” he orders again, and I take the key, twisting it in the lock, and the cuffs fall on the floor while I rub my wrists, watching the man warily. “Javier, have you ever killed someone?”
My eyes almost bulge out of their sockets when he throws his jacket on the bed exposing guns and knives tucked inside, along with other things I’ve never seen before.
What. In. The. Hell?
“No,” I manage to push through my dry throat, as he takes a gun and knife from the jacket and motions for me to come closer.
“Today is your lucky day, then.” He gives me the weapons, but I make no move to reach out for them.
His brow lifts. “Don’t tell me you haven’t dreamed of killing someone?” He swirls his finger in the air. “Such nobility would have been fucking impossible in this hell with your character.” He clacks his tongue. “Judging by your bruised face it’s a character you pay dearly for in here.”
My head starts to throb along with the anger spreading through my blood. My mind plays images from my past where I wished to kill them all and make them pay. I always wanted to do it in the most sadistic ways.
I loved how the blades glinted in the light and wondered how sharp those tips were, and if they can slash someone’s throat.
The guns the guards had and how much their possession could scare people around you.
But more importantly?
How the torture and pain would fill James’s face while he drowned in a pool of his own blood while rats ate his body, and he would be alive to experience every single thing.
I never wanted them to die quickly, always agonizingly slowly, so I could savor their downfall.
None of the kids shared my sentiments. I brought it up only once to see if similar scary thoughts echoed in their minds too, and everyone in the cages stayed away from me after my confession, afraid of what I might do to them.
Even Andreas never supported my desires, claiming that I should take lessons from James and learn.
Whatever the fuck that means.
“What’s going on? Who are you?” I ask instead, and he chuckles.
“It doesn’t matter. Your captivity is over, Javier. However, you need to help me end James’s reign.”
What? “Is this a joke?” Maybe they have cameras, and this is a new test from James?
“Hardly. How many kids are here? Give or take. And where are they now?” He fires so many questions at once, and my mind hectically searches for answers.
“Twenty-one including me. Five are in the rooms with the clients, and the rest are in the cage.” James rotates us all every week, the only reason I get used so much is because I never bow my head to the fucker.
His gaze darkens on the word cage, and he cracks his neck from side to side. “Where are the cages?”
“In the basement. Elvin has all the keys.”
He ponders this information and then snatches a device from his back pocket and presses a button. “Noah, twenty-one kids.”
And then to my shock, the voice coming from the radio responds. “Got it, Diego.”
“Is Lucas done?”
“Almost.”
Diego presses the button again. “How many minutes do we have?”
A reply comes swiftly. “Fifteen.”
How many minutes before what?
“We’ll start now, then. Cover the entrance.”
“Got it.”
He hooks the device back on his belt and then addresses me. “Listen to me, Javier, and listen well.” He shoves the gun and knife at me, and I have no other choice but to grab it. “I’ll take care of the kids in the room. You need to run to the basement, release them all, and then take them outside. Run as far as possible from the mansion. Do you understand?”
I nod but then shake my head. “The guard. Elvin. Francis. James. They are all there.”
A sinister smile shapes his mouth. “They won’t be for long. Do not worry about it. But if you see someone. Shoot. Stab. Do whatever is needed. The clock is ticking.”
Before I can even ask what it means, he spins me around, takes his guns, then opens the door, ushering me outside where Elvin frowns in confusion when Diego shoots straight at his head.
He falls on the floor, permanent shock etched on his features, and I exhale in relief because a man who spit in my food and stayed deaf to my groans behind these doors deserves no mercy.
Diego snatches the keychain from Elvin’s hand and gives it to me as he shouts, “Now, Javier. Go!”
I do as he says while anticipation fills my blood, and my hands squeeze tighter around the weapons that give me a sense of peace.
I think I’ve finally survived until I can beat them.
Destiny has granted me a gift in the form of a man who has become my salvation.
Esmeralda
Rolling to the side and burrowing my head into the pillow, I open my eyes and a sense of déjá vu hits me as the spacious empty room comes into view along with memories from last night.
Although, my reactions are vastly different between yesterday when I woke up engaged to Prince Charming and today I’m married to the villain.
Gripping the blanket tighter and covering my head, I groan into the soft material at how easily I accepted this marriage and admitted my weakness to the man before allowing him to ravish me on this bed.
Add the dramatics, why don’t you, Esmeralda.
Enough.
I cannot live with this sense of guilt anymore, so I’ll do my best to discover his past and find a solution to my current situation. No one tells you what to do when your man turns out to be the villain in a fairytale or how to properly love him without losing your head, morals, and heart to the darkness surrounding them.
I tried running away; he brought me back, and besides, what do they say about this kind of stuff?
If you cannot change the situation, change your behavior toward it.
That being said, I don’t think anyone thought about monsters and their obsession when they preached it.
Regardless, whining and then acting as if my body is a separate entity from my mind and, as such, I have no responsibility over what it does, seems a very childish thing to do.
Sadly, being an adult means facing up to your weaknesses and less than stellar character that searches for clues to excuse the bad deeds if it means staying by your husband’s side.
Huffing, I throw the blanket away and kick it to the edge of the bed before sitting up. My hair slides over my shoulder as I glance to the bedside table where a single red rose with a blooming bud lies over a small note.
I lift it to my cheek and rub the soft petals over my skin, the scent teasing my nostrils as I read the note.
Buenos días, mi amor.
Come downstairs once you wake up.
In the shiny golden bag, you will find everything you need.
My eyes roam over the petal-covered room and spot the bag lying by the door. Naked, not caring about the cold wind breezing into the room, I walk toward it.
Peeking inside, I take out a dress and lingerie to match; shoes lie at the bottom of it.
The silky emerald material gleams in the sunshine, and although the strapless dress is really pretty and will fit me like a glove. Looking at it now brings up other thoughts in my head that I haven’t considered when Lucian proposed, even before all the truth came out.
My entire life is in New York.
I have obligations, a career, and a perfect house that I love, plus all the important people in my life. While Lucian considers Chicago a new start for us and just assumed I would move here permanently.
I’d have to give it all
up and open galleries here, which may take years, not to mention all the promises I’ve made to other artists that wait for me in New York.
And moving all my stuff here, which will slow me down on preparing for the new show, because I can’t create just anywhere. I need my studio.
Clipping my hair up on the way to the bathroom, then stepping into the shower stall, I ponder this information that slowly spreads anger within me as hot water pours from above.
Why should I give up my galleries for him? He said so himself; no one knows me here, so building one here would mean reestablishing my name once again.
I have no experience when it comes to relationships, but shouldn’t this whole thing be about finding mutual ground?
But then again, I barely go anywhere, so does it matter where I paint?
“Marriage gives me a headache from day one,” I mutter and chuckle at the irony of it all.
He is a killer, and I worry about such simple stuff as moving.
I’m in danger of becoming a psycho myself since that fact has almost stopped unsettling me.
Twisting the faucet off, I grab the towel and dry myself before putting on the clothes and racing downstairs, noticing how they’ve cleaned it up already as there are no candles or petals in sight.
The smell of coffee wafts in the air, tempting me toward the dining room. As I walk toward it, I blink in surprise when several servers pass me by, holding vases and marching toward the living room.
Harold calls, “Roses need to be put in another corner!” My brows rise at his loud screech, and then I spot him several feet away, writing something on his notepad. “We need more chairs!” Then he glances at me, stills, and quickly comes closer. “Good morning. You’re awake.” Happiness brightens up his face, and he grins at me. “I’m glad to see you here.” Between the lines, I hear his relief at me staying in the mansion with Lucian instead of running away.
Is it because he knows Lucian wants me?
Or he’s afraid he might turn into a complete monster without his obsession by his side?
Stop it. You’ve agreed to be this; bear the consequences.
I have a feeling I’ll have to repeat these words to myself a lot.
“Good morning.” I glance over the hectic activities, especially when someone runs outside with a heavy tray and groans in exasperation. “Busy day, I see.” They must not have finished putting everything back in place after yesterday’s romantic atmosphere. I wince when someone pushes the couch closer to the wall, the screeching sound echoing and hurting my ears.
I saunter to the dining table where breakfast waits for me. It seems Ricardo cooked every possible dish he could think of because it has everything from roasted chicken to pancakes.
We could feed an army with all this food.
The man in question enters right after us, his hands wrapped around a white pot, and he smiles at me. “Good morning. I hope you’re hungry because I used all the food in the pantry for sampling.” He snags the pencil attached to his ear and snatches the notepad from the pocket in his apron. “All ready to take notes.”
“Wait until she eats,” Harold scolds him as he puts his notepad on the table and grabs a big plate. “What would you like?”
“Toast and jam along with tea. Strawberries too.” I drop onto the chair and shift my attention back on Ricardo. “Sampling?”
“Yes. In the past, we discussed such stuff with señora. May she rest in peace.” I assume he means Lucian’s grandmother who died when Juan was twenty, so she didn’t get to meet her grandson. “And the last time we hosted a party here was twenty years ago when Señor Alejandro officially introduced Lucian as his grandson. We are a little rusty in the department but do not worry. It will be perfect,” he assures me while I’m confused as hell.
Not be worried about what exactly?
Harold choses this moment to set a plate in front of me along with a jar so I dip a knife into it before grabbing a piece of toast. Generously applying jam on it, I inquire, “What are you talking about?”
They exchange a look, and Ricardo sighs heavily, dropping on the seat opposite me while Harold pours me tea, slides the cup toward me, and follows his friend, settling next to him.
Grim expressions replace their earlier happiness, and Ricardo sighs again, rubbing his mustache.
Sinking my teeth into the bread, I bite off a generous piece and munch on the delicious, sweet taste that will soon satiate my hungry stomach.
Since both of them stay silent, I say, “Well?” A crashing sound reverberates through the space followed by someone’s mutter of “Oh shit,” and then the door shuts while someone else shouts, “Not the crystal bowl!” and the racing continues once again with shoes tapping against the marble.
Hopefully, Lucian wasn’t attached to the bowl because people are gonna get fired if that’s the case.
“You tell her.” Ricardo nudges Harold who glares at him and brings me back to the conversation at hand.
“Why me?”
“Because you’re a butler. I’m just a regular cook.”
“Ha! For a regular cook, you sure have a lot of demands.”
“Informing señora about such stuff is your responsibility.”
“Just a minute ago, you couldn’t wait to discuss the menu with her. What happened to all that excitement?”
Ricardo opens his mouth to continue their idiotic argument when I slap my hand on the table and pull their eyes to me. “What’s going on?”
I pick up my tea and sip it a little before freezing when Harold replies, his voice barely audible. “On Friday, we are hosting a party to celebrate your wedding. Lucian invited the richest of the rich. I personally mailed all the invitations today.” Judging by the clock hanging on a wall that shows eleven o’clock, he’s had one heck of a productive morning, which means he received the order yesterday.
Ricardo pitches in, hastily adding, “We invited all your friends and grandmother as well.”
A chuckle slips past my lips at how the old men must think this information will make me happier about the upcoming gathering where all these people come and gape at me just because I snagged the coveted bachelor.
And then his words register in my head.
My grandmother!
Oh, crap.
Cortez might be a powerful name, but the woman won’t appreciate being in the dark about the whole thing.
She’ll show up though because, God forbid, someone would think she doesn’t approve, and besides, the so-called “perfect” match is too powerful to turn her back on his invitation.
The idea of seeing her doesn’t thrill me, but then I can’t avoid her forever, so I’ll deal.
“A celebration,” I say, taking another large bite, and the two men relax a little bit at my breezy tone; maybe they were waiting for me to explode at this information.
Ricardo nods. “About seventy, eighty people. I will personally cook everything.” He motions at the table. “Just veto whatever you don’t want, and I’ll make it perfect.”
“And you don’t have to worry about the decorations. We’ve already hired a designer to take care of it,” Harold informs me as shattering echoes once again. “If we have porcelain and crystal left, that is,” he grumbles under his breath.
Watching them both sitting here right now and the sun shining brightly, showcasing every wrinkle and line on their faces speaking to their age and experiences, I realize that life must have been hard for them in the last two decades.
Juan’s addiction.
Losing Alejandro and Juan.
Finding Lucian and then discovering his less-than-stellar inclinations.
Yet they loyally stuck around the Cortez family and dedicated their life to the heir of the throne.
Would it hurt me to play along and give them just a bit of a sense of normalcy?
“Well, aren’t you a powerful pair?” Their cheeks heat at the compliment, and their earlier smiles are back on their faces. “I want colors for this party.” The word
surprises even me. I’ve never in my life cared about such stuff, but these people will come to “my house” now, right? “Nothing boring or classical. It should be vivid and unique.” Harold writes it all down, and then I look at Ricardo. “You have free rein on the food.” He claps his hands but frowns when I add, “Don’t overdo it though.” I motion to all the dishes at my disposal. “Otherwise, a lot of food will go to waste.”
He scratches something on his paper, and I finish my toast, then wash it down with the few remaining sips of tea before getting up. “Where’s Lucian?”
“In the office.”
My God, this day is indeed a déjà vu. Hopefully I will not have any surprises waiting for me in that room after this morning.
Harold gets up while Ricardo still furiously writes something, almost leaving holes in the paper as he presses the pen so hard. “Let me show you the way.”
Once we step out of the dining room, I see a maid cleaning up the scattered crystal pieces. Harold points to the oak door at the end of the hallway.
Patting his arm in a silent thank you, I march toward it and without knocking enter the specious room that has very predictable decor.
Massive brown desk, two chairs standing opposite each other, huge window that probably opens up to a view of the garden, and a bookcase spreading horizontally over an entire wall filled with various books.
All in all, as minimal and depressing as the rest of this house except the first floor.
Lucian lifts his head from whatever he’s reading in the folder in front of him, and a half smile lifts the corners of his mouth as his eyes flicker. “Mi amor, you’re awake.” His black T-shirt emphasizes his six-pack while also bringing attention to his tan skin, dark hair, and the jean-clad leg and bare foot that peeks out from under the desk.
One day darkness gathered around him and decided to create a charming devil who will be my downfall, because nothing else explains his annoying handsomeness.
My stomach flutters at the endearment once again, because possessiveness always coats his voice when he utters it compared to gatita, and it brings various thoughts into my head.
Like does it mean he loves me now?