by M. Robinson
“If I had a dog, it would obey me. You, on the other hand, do not.”
She wanted to laugh, but turned her head to smile instead. Thinking I couldn’t see her. Taking a deep breath, she asked, “When can I leave?”
“When I tell you, you can.”
“What about my job? I worked so—”
“I took care of it.”
“What?” she asked, sitting up. Hissing from the immediate pain to her ribs.
I didn’t hesitate. Walking over to the nightstand, opening the bottle, handing her two pills with her glass of water.
She glanced up at me, even though she couldn’t see anything but my faint shadow looking down at her. “I don’t like them. They make me sleep.”
“No shit. You need to rest.”
She reluctantly nodded, taking them, fighting an internal struggle not to argue with me. I sat back in the armchair, sinking into it. Rubbing my fingers over my mouth as I watched her contemplate what else she wanted to say to me.
“Have you been doing this every night? Sitting there? Watching me?” she finally asked what had been plaguing her since the minute she woke up in this room.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It does to me.”
“I’m not who you think I am, Lexi. And the sooner you realize that, the better.”
“Maybe you’re not who you think you are. Have you ever considered that?”
Her words resonated somewhere deep inside of me.
“What do you think is going to happen here, cariño? Do you want to be my whore?” I crudely asked, wanting to make her uncomfortable. Knowing all I had to do was push that hard limit for her.
Sex.
My stomach fluttered, seizing my body completely. I inadvertently writhed around in the sheets. Basking in the cool feeling against my heated skin.
“No,” I replied in a voice I didn’t recognize. “You have plenty of those. How about we just start off as friends? I don’t have many. And for some reason I couldn’t possibly begin to understand,” I sarcastically stated, “I don’t think you do either.”
“Friends?” he drawled out, like the word seemed foreign coming from his lips.
“Yeah… I mean. We kind of sort of are, I guess. Friends help each other. You saved me so—”
“And what are you going to do for me?”
“Oh… Well, what do you want?”
“Something I shouldn’t.”
“Which is?”
“You. In my bed. Now.”
I didn’t know what to say, so I didn’t say anything at all. My heart sped up, beating a mile a minute. I swear he could hear it. Sweat started pooling at my temples. “Stop trying to make me feel uncomfortable, I know what you’re trying to do,” I voiced in a steady tone even though my body was anything but that.
“Is that right?”
“Yes. That’s right. You want to pretend like you don’t feel what is happening between us. You want to make it all about sex. Your words may say that, but your actions contradict everything that comes out of your filthy mouth. You’ve been watching me for years, keeping me safe. Then you saved me. Now I’m here where I’m safe again. You want me to rest, you’re concerned about me. You’re protecting me. You—”
“Did I fuck that woman last night for you, too?”
That was like taking a bullet to the fucking heart. It would have shattered if it hadn’t already the night before.
“Don’t get it twisted, Lexi. This is how it’s going to be. You’re going to stay here until I tell you it’s safe for you to go. Then you’re going to leave. There’s nothing here for you, especially me. Because trust me, sweetheart. I will make you leave.”
“But I’m here now,” I whispered, fidgeting with my fingers under the sheets. “Because you want me here. I don’t need to be here. I’ve been protecting myself my entire life. You don’t know what I’ve been through, so people who in live in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones. I made a mistake, and I trusted someone I shouldn’t have. It’s why I don’t let people get close to me. I should have known better. And even though I shouldn’t trust you, I do,” I paused, letting my words sink in. “I know somewhere deep inside you, lies a man who had a good heart once. Or I wouldn’t be laying here. I think you lost your way, and now you’re just trying to find your feet on the ground.”
Silence.
Each second of stillness that passed between us made me realize I was right, and he knew it.
“You leave me by myself because you don’t want to get close to me. But it’s backfired on you, because all I have time to do is to think. You don’t trust anyone, including yourself. Why would you bring a random woman back here? It didn’t make any sense, until I got to thinking today. You fucked her last night to hurt me, to prove to me that you don’t care about me. Well, you succeeded, I spent the entire night hurting, exactly the way you wanted me to. You wanted me to hate you. It makes it easier on you. Am I getting warmer, Alejandro?”
I turned, stepping out of the bed carefully, before I lost the nerve. Walking over to him in the darkness, crouching down in front of him, placing my arms on his thighs for support.
He didn’t move.
He didn’t tense.
He didn’t make one sound.
Knowing he could see me, even if I couldn’t see him. I peered up to the faint shadow of his handsome face and sinful green eyes, knowing in my heart there was more emotion evident on his expression than there had been in years.
Taking him by surprise.
“Well, guess what? I’m not going to make it easy for you.”
He instantly stood, pushing back the armchair from the impact of his abrupt stance. It skidded across the floor. I would have fallen on my ass had I not expected his reaction.
“Go to fucking sleep,” he snapped, walking out of the room. Slamming the door behind him.
I smiled.
For the first time since I had been there, I fucking smiled. Lying back down in my bed, I snuggled into my pillow and comforter, feeling happy and content with myself. I took a deep, liberating breath. Allowing the pills to take me under, and I would succumb to a good night’s sleep. Finally. Dreaming of the green-eyed man who had captured my heart.
Knowing as I soon as I passed out, he would come back in. Pull up his chair next to my bed.
To watch over me.
My dark angel.
Three months went by at a slow and steady pace. I felt every second, every minute, every hour, counting down the days until he said I could leave. I wanted to be able to step outside and soak up the sun without having to worry about getting killed. Most of all, I couldn’t wait to dance again. This was the longest I had gone without dancing.
Living in this penthouse was starting to take a toll on me. I may have been physically healed, but mentally and emotionally, I was far more messed up than I ever was before. I never realized how much I truly hated being by myself. Maybe I was too distracted with ballet to notice the absence of people around me, before but I found myself craving conversation and human interaction. Dance was my entire life, my escape from reality, my happy place. Where there was no negativity, no violence, no memories…but it was also a lonely place.
My whole life.
After I fully recovered, I started leaving my room. Venturing out into the penthouse, since I wasn’t permitted to go outside. Martinez said it wasn’t safe yet. He was handling it as fast as he could, but it was going to take time. The only problem was he didn’t know how much time, and I was slowly losing myself.
At times, I wandered around aimlessly through his penthouse in hopes that maybe I would find him. That maybe we could talk again, even though all we seemed to do was fight. I was lonely, and could have really used some company.
I barely ever saw him, though. He was there less and less as the days went on, never telling me where he was going, or when he would be back. We never talked about had happened that night, both in denial, both pretending. We barely exchanged more than a
few words when our paths crossed and that was mostly him telling me I still couldn’t leave, it still wasn’t safe, and the men looking for me hadn’t given up yet. I hadn’t seen or heard any more sexcapades either since the second night I was there, thank God for small miracles.
A woman did show up late one night, knocking on his door as I walked toward the kitchen to get some water. I opened it without thinking, much to his disapproval. She looked young, maybe a few years older than me. I didn’t have to question if she was one of his random whores, she had his eyes. At first I thought it might be his daughter, but he dismissed me before I could ask her who she was. My curiosity got the best of me though and decided since he wouldn’t give me any answers I should get them on my own. Instead of heading back to my room, I lingered around the hallway. Their conversation seemed tense and made me slightly uncomfortable but my instinct was right, they were related. She was his niece, Briggs. They didn’t seem to have a loving relationship, which didn’t surprise me in the least. She stayed at his penthouse for a few days, never leaving her room. I didn’t see her again, and he never mentioned her after that.
Anything I needed or wanted was delivered right to my room at any point in time. Even though he made sure I was well cared for, he never fulfilled my one desire that would cost him nothing.
Companionship.
All I really wanted or needed was for him to keep me company, even if words weren’t spoken. I still felt him at night, watching me sleep. Every time I opened my eyes to catch him sitting there.
He wasn’t.
I guess loneliness could make you imagine what you truly wanted, and I still wanted him. So fucking much. The sad part was, for the first time in my life, I felt safe. With him. Which confused me more than anything.
That morning I decided to venture further into his penthouse. So far I’d found a library and a movie theater, I spent a few days in both, but neither had been a good distraction. Today, I hit the jackpot. A huge gym was hidden in the never-ending corridors. As soon as I walked in, it became the only room that provided me with some type of comfort. His potent scent lingered in every crevice of the open space. I secretly hoped that one day I would walk in, and he would be there, working out his frustrations, preferably shirtless, sweat dripping down his chest and abs. I had to shake off the image.
There was every possible piece of exercise equipment known to man in the abundant space. Mirrors lined all the walls, expanding from the floor to the ceiling. The space was lined with dark, hardwood floors and some exercise mats throughout it. An expensive stereo system had been set up in the corner of the room, with speakers spread evenly in the space. It also housed a sauna and private restroom, equipped with showers and everything under the sun.
I don’t know what came over me, but I just started dancing, the music playing in my head. I spent the entire day in that room, getting lost in the movements and rhythm that were deeply embedded in my soul. By the end of the day, I was exhausted, pushing my body more than I should have after so many weeks of not dancing. I took a shower, letting the hot water soak my sore limbs. Shortly after that, I headed straight to bed. I was out before my head even hit the pillow. Dreaming of him like I did every night for the last three months. For the first time, I was eager to wake up the next day. Knowing I could dance. My eyes fluttered open, taking in the bright light shining through the curtains. Stretching my sore limbs, my body physically spent from the day before. I sat up and looked at the clock beside my bed, it was already eleven in the morning. I had slept in late for the first time since I could remember.
Throwing on a tank top with some cotton shorts, I tossed my hair up in a high bun on the top of my head, and brushed my teeth, going about my normal morning routine. His maid, Maria was nice enough to make me food whenever I was hungry. She would stick around and keep me company as I ate every morning. Sometimes during lunch and dinner too. If it weren’t for her, I would have no one to talk to, except maybe to myself. Excitement couldn’t begin to describe what I felt as I made my way toward his gym after I finished my breakfast.
I rounded the corner in the long, narrow hallway. Seconds away from walking into what recently became my heaven. Smiling from ear-to-ear as I opened the large, wood door to the gym. Nothing could have prepared me for what laid in front of me.
All of his gym equipment had vanished, as if it was never there to begin with. Not one piece of gear was left in the wide-open space. All of it replaced with every piece of ballet equipment I could ever need, and then some. It had been turned into my own personal ballet studio.
Just for me.
I sucked in a breath, placing my hand over my heart as I walked around the room with nothing but astonishment and wonder. Tears threatened my eyes as they took in every last detail of the special place he’d made for me.
A beautiful, black leather sofa sat against the center of the back wall, accented with comfortable, grey pillows. A ballet barre extended the full length of the mirrored walls, parallel to the couch. A square, wood box of rosin placed beside it. I softly ran my fingers along the barre, gripping onto it for support. This was all just so damn overwhelming. The massive, black armoire in the back corner caught my attention next. I practically leaped over to it, excited to see what it held. I opened each drawer, one by one, taking in all the contents. Different kinds of leotards, bright, neutral, patterned colors, showcased in one drawer. Several pairs of ballet tights lined the second one. Skirts in all different styles, colors, and patterns took over the next. Topping it all off with an endless supply of sports bras in the bottom drawer.
The choices were endless.
My pointe shoes and ballet flats were laid out on the dark hardwood floor, and sitting right next to them was a black dance bag full of brand new pairs of both. I wiped away the tears that started streaming down my cheeks. I was in this room less than twenty-four hours ago. I couldn’t believe the transformation from the masculine gym to this beautiful, feminine space. The surprises were never-ending. I walked over to the sound system, finding an abundant amount of ballet CD’s, everything from Mozart to Gershwin. Including the soundtrack to Swan Lake.
My feet moved of their own accord, ripping off price tags from the designer apparel. Ignoring how much they cost. Standing behind the portable room divider in the corner, I changed into the most beautiful, elegant, soft attire I’d ever worn. Grabbing my tattered, worn-in, pointe shoes, and lacing them up my ankles. I went right to work, not wasting another minute. Dancing around the room like I never had before. Thriving in the emotions of finally feeling like I was home. Every turn, every step, every pose was an extension of the only happiness I’d ever known. I danced until I couldn’t dance anymore.
It was late into the night by the time I was so exhausted I couldn’t push through any longer. Sweat glistened over every inch of me, and I could barely stand on my own two feet. But it didn’t matter because I knew when I woke up the next morning, I could do it again. That alone gave me some peace of mind. I slipped off my pointe shoes, taking in the damage I had inflicted upon my poor toes. Welcoming the pain and blisters. Placing the shoes exactly where I found them. I stretched my limbs on the barre one last time, loving the way my sore muscles ached from a job well done.
I took one last look at the room, before turning off the lights and closing the door behind me. Leaning my back against the solid mahogany surface, smiling, thinking about Martinez, and what he had done to his space. How much I appreciated him at that moment, for absolutely everything he had done for me in the last few months. Behind his dark, cold demeanor, I could tell the man had a heart. Even though he would deny it. I got the sudden urge to talk to him, hug him, and tell him thank you a million times over.
I pushed off the door, walking back to my bedroom, when I heard the front door slam shut. Rattling, echoing down the expansive hall. I didn’t give it a second thought, I dashed through the penthouse to see if he was home. I felt him before I saw him, his masculine scent lingering all around me.
“Hey,” I rasped, out of breath as soon as I got to him, hunching over. Placing my hands on my knees for support. My body shaking from the excitement that he was there, in front of me.
We could finally talk.
I could express how much the room transformation meant to me. How much he meant to me.
He stopped dead in his tracks, surprised by my behavior. Instantly eyeing me cautiously. Not saying a word. Something about the way he was looking at me revealed pain in his usual dark, cold, soulless eyes. I had never seen him appear so internally conflicted, nor did I understand why. He was fighting some sort of internal battle when it came to me. Avoiding me at all costs, not wanting to admit I had an affect on him too. He stood there with his hands in his slacks, just staring with no expression. I wanted to stay lost in his eyes at that moment, savoring the way he was looking at me. The way he pulled every sentiment from my body as if it belonged to him. Especially the way I was making him feel.
I never wanted it to end.
It was as if we were the only two people in the world.
“Alejandro,” I coaxed still out of breath, overwhelmed by my emotions. “I can’t believe—”
“Don’t,” he interrupted in a frayed tone.
I stood upright, stepping toward him. “I just want—” He put his hand out, gesturing for me to stop.
“Don’t,” he repeated in a stern voice. Forcefully accentuating the word.
I reached out, placing my shaking hand on his chest and he let me.
“All I want is—” He shoved away, causing me to stumble back. Catching myself before I fell, as he brushed past, walking away from me. Not allowing me to finish what I so desperately wanted to say to him. I grimaced, hurt. “What the hell?” I whispered to myself. Wavering for a few minutes as I watched him stride toward his office, like he did every time he came home.