“It's just a bite.”
“Do you know what hunger is?” I continue, a few inches from her ear.
“Of course I know what it is.”
“If you knew it, you would have finished your breakfast.”
I put the piece of croissant in my mouth and go away, smiling at her back.
“I have no dress for the party,” she says embarrassed. She's changing the subject.
She slides from the stool and turns. I'm glad to see that despite the strange effect I've just had on her, she needs to look into my eyes.
Because that’s what it is: a need.
I know.
I feel it.
You want it, Krum. That's different.
“No problem, I'll call Ivanka and ask her to bring you something.”
“Ivanka?”
“One of our women.”
“Your women?” she is surprised.
“She deals with the Father's business in Bulgaria, cares for public relations, and…” I just want to see her face if I say I fuck her. “And sometimes she takes care of me.”
I smile mischievously, she, instead, frowns and gets mad. I can’t believe it.
It's just an impression.
“That is?” she asks, with an acid tone and a raised eyebrow.
“That is that I fuck her,” I laugh. “For free.”
“You're disgusting.”
“Move your ass, we must go.”
“Where?”
“I’m bringing you to your room, I’m going to the gym.”
“Can I come with you?”
Why would she want to come with me if she says I'm revolting!
“I don’t want you under my feet. Stay in your room to rest until Ivanka arrives and then you get ready for dinner.” I see she doesn’t answer and, as soon as we leave the kitchen, I grab her wrist, making sure I don’t clutch it too hard. “Did you understand what I told you?”
“Yes,” she sighs.
“Yes, Krum.”
She extends her face to mine, her lips seem ready to say my name.
Say it.
“Yes,” she says, “fuck off.”
I don’t care anymore! Grinding my teeth, I crush her wrist hard, dragging her up the stairs and throwing her into her room without saying a word.
Damned bitch!
14
AMBRA
I can’t believe it! This man will never stop impressing me. He was almost kind, then he turned back to the horrible person he is. I was stupid to think that I could find a meeting point, hoping to have a normal conversation with him. Nothing, it is not possible. Just hearing a word he doesn’t like and he gets angry, grabs me as if I was his and drags me where he wants me to be: in this huge room, like a princess locked up in a castle. My anger is at full speed! I bang my fists on the door, I want to scream out his name just to get his attention. But no, I will never do it, since that's what he wants. It seems he wants me to call him Krum, as if his name meant master. No way! Just as he doesn’t want me on his lips, I won’t have him.
I don't need his kindness, I don’t need his human consideration. I’ll have the opportunity to avenge every single mistreatment, there must be something that can break him down apart from the insults that annoy him visibly.
I'll talk to his boss, maybe he'll know how to deal with him, being as his guardian disrespects his guests.
He'll get you, asshole!
I'm huffing and puffing and I’m looking around hoping to kill time. I soon realize that I didn't have a moment of peace alone with myself and would prefer to quarrel with that titan, rather than listening to the multitude of thoughts that dance in my head.
What does my dad have to do with these people? Why did they buy people? What do I have to do with them? What does my kidnapping have to do with this absurd place? And Krum, why can’t he treat me like Oscar does? Then, the other one, Manuel, reminds me of someone, but I can’t think of who. I don’t know if he's good or bad.
I decide to take a hot bath and fill the gorgeous bathtub. I strip and carefully put the clothes on the light marble shelf. I dip myself into the hot water, feeling my wrists burn, I lay down on the bottom of the tub and shut my eyes, ordering myself not to let tears roll down my cheeks. I lather myself gently, looking at the blue marks on my body. They're just bruises, it's true, but they seem to pulsate on the skin more than a laceration. They are there to remind me of who he is.
I think back to the last days of my life as if I was rewinding the tape. Krum treats my wounds, Krum insults me, Krum mistreats me, Krum kidnaps me, mom in tears, Krum at the party, his mask, the feelings, the emotion of feeling the wonder of intrigue on my skin. I go back and I am sitting on the sofa at the session with the psychologist.
Have you ever experienced sexual desire for your kidnapper?
Yes.
Oh, my God. I answered yes. Shame overwhelms me, I’d like to sink into the water and never come out. I wish that all this absurd story was part of the DVD of my bad dreams. I’d like to avoid living all this, I’d like to turn off any image and not be forced to immerse myself in such an uncertain future.
I'm extremely curious and coward at the same time. Should I satisfy the desire to know by answering my own questions, or should I avoid asking them and go on being an incoherent woman?
Reply Ambra, you’re alone with yourself. No one will hear you.
I turn my head and my face is mirrored in the large mirror that takes up the whole wall. My eyes have never been so lifeless and at the same time fiery. It's a strange incredible combination, but that's exactly how I feel: a part of me turned off because of the dark events and the other burning for…
Ask yourself the question!
I do it: do you feel desire?
This question is incomplete, Ambra.
My face in the mirror looks alive. I stay here, confused, immersed in the bubbles, and the other half of myself is letting my lips - my own lips - pronounce awkward questions.
I repeat: have you felt desire for him?
I squint my eyes. I don’t want to answer. This certainty confuses me even more. If I didn’t feel absolutely anything, I wouldn’t be here denying the reality to myself.
I'm ashamed. Deeply.
All this is inappropriate, insane, perverse, impure, sick.
But what’s my problem? Why do I have to feel something for the person who’s ruined my life?
Oh God. This question is already destructive on its own. I look at my face in the mirror again. That girl (me), who made fun of my illness, seems to have disappeared, as if she had the pleasure of getting what she wanted and she decided to leave me alone in self-pity.
I admitted it. With another question, but I admitted it.
That odd flame that burns in me has never gone out; it was fueled by my dreams, in all the years I’ve fantasized on his face. Now I know that face, I can hear his voice clearly, let my eyes run over his face without finding his ski mask.
I know what the man in my dreams looks like.
Krum Botev.
Dark eyes, brown hair, always rough beard and a perfect body. Admitting that he is really handsome makes it even worse. If he was less handsome, I’d have closed this whole story forever.
Couldn’t he be repulsive?
I'm crazy. I'm sick. The first thing I'll do when I go back home - if I get back – is to lock myself in a psychiatric clinic to be detoxed from the Krum effect.
Krum effect?
You are seriously ill.
I spend the rest of the afternoon fiddling my thumbs. That asshole left me here without food; at least there's a jug of water or I'd die of thirst. I cannot believe I’m doing the same things over again. Even though I'm not locked in a stinky, dark garage, the situation isn’t so different. I'm always his.
What the hell are you saying?
I jump off the bed as soon as I hear the lock opening.
“Hello Ambra.” A woman appears. She should be the one.
I cross my arm
s and I don’t answer. She's incredibly beautiful. She has very long shiny black hair, obviously dyed, she might be blond, considering the light color of her skin and the contrast of her eyebrows. Her very dark green eyes glitter surrounded by dark makeup. Her body is perfect, I'm not surprised that he is taken care of by her.
“I brought you the dress for tonight's dinner,” she says gently.
I nod. I don’t want to talk to her, I don’t need to. She holds a bag on which the brand of a famous fashion house stands out and begins to pull out two boxes. I think a pair of shoes are in one.
“Who bought these things?” I ask.
“Krum. He asked me to get the best and I got the best. I got a fire red Dolce & Gabbana, as he likes, Bulgari jewels and a Tiffany necklace. He himself chose the necklace.”
She puts everything out on the bed and I can’t help but gape at all this waste. Krum is crazy if he thinks I will accept these gifts.
“I cannot accept this stuff. Especially from him.” My steadfast voice shocks her. She blinks her eyes and smiles annoyingly.
“Oh, they are not gifts,” she says sufficiently. “Krum doesn’t give gifts. Consider them working tools.”
“I don’t understand,” I cross my arms on my chest again.
“You have to wear them for dinner and that's all. They are to please the Father and no one else.”
I look at her badly. She is a beautiful woman, too beautiful, but I don’t like that she speaks to me as if I were a nuisance, because that's exactly what she seems to think of me.
“Will you be at dinner?” I ask because I won’t like to see her again.
“No, I think I'm going to see Krum later.” I smile half-way as to say I didn’t really want to know, but she insists and says: “You don’t mind, do you?”
It looks like we are challenging each other for something that is just in her head.
“I don’t care at all.”
“Sure.” Is she teasing me? “Oh, I forgot…” She pulls out a watch from her purse, you can see it’s not a gift, throws it at me and I catch it. “He asked me to give you this, so you'll be on time.” There are no watches here. “He’ll be here at 7.30 p.m. I suggest you to be ready or he’ll get angry.”
“Who cares!”
“Still with this arrogance?”
“I’d like to see you, locked in a room of an unknown place, dealing with people who do nothing but put their hands on you.”
“Are you talking about Krum?” she asks amused.
“And who else?”
“You’re going to learn Krum's methods are the best,” she replies maliciously. The best? Maybe for masochists like her.
She winks, turns around, opens the door and slams it behind her black hair.
What a person!
I look at the gifts, rather not; presents neither. What the hell are they? The things. I look at the fire red dress, it's beautiful, but from now on red will be abolished from my favorite colors, since that's what Krum likes. The jeweled sandals shout "pain", but avoiding to wear them is out of the question because I have nothing else. Then I admire the necklace and move it between my fingers. It is entirely embedded with diamonds. It is obviously very expensive, who knows how much it costs. Did Krum spend this fortune only for a dinner? Perhaps the Father will pay him back.
I meditate on intentionally delaying, but then I realize that my already reddened skin may get worse because of his anger. So I get ready and try to curl the hair tips in soft curls. I put on make-up having Ivanka in my mind, but I decide not to imitate that facial mask she had.
I wear the dress and look in the mirror in the bathroom. It’s very beautiful, with its entirely lace sleeves, so nobody can see the bruises. It is skin-tight to the hips and soft and long to the ankles. The dizzying slit rises up to the thigh. It's a bit too much for my standards, even the neckline looks too sensual. Although I am not curvy, it emphasizes the squeezed breasts in the inner cups. The fabric is very soft and silky, I cannot stop touching it. I come out of the bathroom and go to the bed to get the precious necklace. I try to wear it, but I can’t. My nails fight with the hook. I snort and throw it on the bed. I won’t wear it.
Suddenly I hear the door lock click and, strangely, my heart starts to beat worse than other times. I turn to the door and I wait for him to come in.
I see him slamming the door behind him as usual. He steps in and then, suddenly, he stops.
Silence is filled with my sigh. One sigh, one, one stolen sigh. Stolen by him.
If he weren’t what he is, he would be the most good looking man on the planet. He wears a black suit and a white shirt, his jacket follows the lines of his body perfectly. He isn’t wearing a tie, but I like him being less formal. My eyes are enchanted by the collar of the open shirt, which doesn’t hide a piece of skin that has been hidden 'til now. His hair is in a more than normal order, but still uncombed. He hasn’t shaved and I wonder if his face is soft anyway.
I'm diverted by his elegance, by his clenched fists along his hips, but then I wake up from this annoying enchantment and I realize that his pupils also run down my body, invasively. That doesn’t bother me, but pleases me.
I feel my cheeks flush and I snap out of the embarrassment.
“I'm ready,” I step forward and he goes over to the bed.
“You have to wear this too,” he says, holding the Tiffany necklace.
“I can’t clasp it.”
“I'll do it.”
Ehm, no.
“No.”
I voice my thoughts. He doesn’t need his voice because he is able to communicate with his body and with those dark marbles that are his eyes.
At this time I understand what he is thinking: “Either you wear it or I break your neck.”
“Okay, put it on me.”
I collect my hair and turn around. The idea he is behind me makes me uncomfortable and knowing that he is touching me in a different way, makes me shiver.
I thought that the word "shivering" was just a way of saying, but when I feel his cold fingers on my back, I can count the tingles that start from that exact point, becoming countless, disappearing into the stomach and maybe a bit further down.
“Done.”
He shocks me by taking my hair and removing it from my hand. He sets it carefully on my back, causing a vibration on my skin, which now experiences a delicious new type of thrill.
He makes me sigh again and when I see him coming back in front of me, I cannot understand why he is so silent and polite. I’ll never learn to understand Krum’s personality. Actually I’ve known him for a short time, though it’s like I’ve known him forever. It makes me sick, because I know there's nothing beyond the darkness of his eyes.
“Shall we go?” I try to shake him out of this strange state.
We go out of my room and he locks it, as usual. I stare at that key, hoping he himself tells me that I can have it.
“The answer is no,” he says abruptly.
“Do you even read my thoughts now?” I haven’t said anything yet and he understood what I wanted. That's disturbing.
We take the hallway to the stairs, the servants go back and forth, it must be an important dinner.
“Did you like the gifts?”
I stop on the first ramp of stairs. Ivanka told me that they weren’t gifts.
“A-are they gifts?” I mumble.
He goes down two steps, now we are of the same height, I don’t need to get a stiff neck to look at him.
“What did they seem to you?” He puts his hands in his pockets. He's saying nice things, but he's defensive and uses his usual irritating tones.
“Certainly not gifts. Dou you want me to forgive you for the way you treated me this morning?”
“Don’t you ever forget anything?”
“Not your actions.”
He bites his lip, turns and goes down the stairs. I'm forced to follow him.
“Did you like them or not?” he continues to ask, as I stare at his majestic sho
ulders. I walk at his side and almost stumble because of the tight strapped high heels. He, of course, doesn’t even hold his arm out. What a gentleman!
“They are very beautiful and that is why I am giving them back after dinner.”
“They are yours.”
“You can give them to Ivanka,” my tone is acid.
“I made her buy them for you.”
“I don’t want anything from you.”
He freezes. Fortunately the steps of the stairs are over with or I’d stumble upon him.
“You will accept them,” he says inflexibly.
“If I say no, will we stay here all evening to argue about this stupid thing?”
“It doesn’t seem stupid to me. I spent a fortune to buy that stuff.”
“I didn’t ask you to!”
“Is everything I do wrong?” I start laughing and shaking my head.
“Are you going to always behave this way?” I look at him without hiding my disappointment. He frowns. I think I like this facial expression. “Whenever you hurt me, will you try to fix it by putting cream on the bruises and buying expensive clothes and jewelry?”
“I don’t…”
“That's not the way you get respect and esteem.”
“I just wanted…”
“I don’t care what you wanted. You can’t buy me anyway. Your cute thoughtfulness is not enough to repair the damage.”
“Thoughtfulness?”
No, but what did I say!
“Just to say so.”
I avoid looking at him, but with the tail of my eye I see him smiling. Damn it! He is pleased, why?, I don’t understand him.
“Let's go, Leonardo is waiting for you,” he holds out his bent elbow and I obviously don’t accept his arm. I don't understand him anymore.
We overcome the great hall and I’m always attracted by the dome. You can see the moon emerging like a bright ball. Music and murmurs can be heard. Something tells me that it's not a simple dinner, and when we get into a huge room, I am shocked. This place amazes me more and more. The room is really big. It has high ceilings embellished with frescoes, I would like to have time to admire them calmly and to study the portrayed scenes.
He wants it all Page 14