Page 13 of Game of Revenge
Dolores sighed but got up, ignoring my questions. She pulled the yellow dress out of the nightstand. “Let's go, please. I will help you get ready.”
I hesitated.
“It’s for your own good. You can ask questions, señorita. Maybe el patron will…I don’t know.” She sighed. “He is a good man, señorita.”
I felt bad for Dolores. She really looked very concerned and clearly did not want to cause me any harm. Plus, I was hungry. I gave in and walked to the bathroom with Dolores, admitting to myself that if I had any chance of escaping, I needed to feed myself and be as friendly as I could manage.
Dolores wasn’t left in the dark as to my situation, and she also clearly had some information about my captor that could be useful. More importantly, Dolores was heavily hinting at a complicated situation and perhaps interests that weren’t just financial, urging me to find my eagerness to survive, take matters into my own hands, gather information, and hopefully use it to find my freedom. Dolores gave me the hope I had been missing the past few days.
I took a quick shower to wake up and put the dress on. It was a tad loose on me, but I loved the embroidery on the dress. The top part was very fitted, but the bottom part of the dress was a nice flowing skirt that moved in harmony with every step I took.
Dolores sat me down and combed my hair, shaking her head as she noticed the bruises on my shoulder. She pulled two hairpins covered with small pearls out of her pocket and used them to pull my hair back, letting the rest of my curls fall down.
“Those are beautiful,” I said. “Thank you.” Dolores smiled and pinched my cheeks.
“Adding color to your lovely face,” explained Dolores. “You are now ready for dinner,” she announced. “Let’s go.”
“No head bag tonight?” I asked when Dolores started taking me down the hallway.
“No,” she answered with a smile. “Juan is not here today.”
“Why does it matter if Juan is here or not?” Dolores ignored me and continued walking.
I was starting to realize how big this hacienda was, as I could finally walk around more than the hallway without my face being covered. The ceilings were high, and we passed multiple rooms that looked like they were taken straight from a magazine, but there was no time to stop and explore—we were on a mission.
Dolores finally stopped in front of two big wooden doors. She knocked to announce us and opened one of them. She told me to walk in and closed the door behind me.
The formal dining room was stunning. The walls were decorated with some artwork I recognized as amate bark paintings. There was a beautiful chandelier in the center of the high ceiling. In the middle of the room was an eight-person, walnut dining table with hand-carved legs and chairs. A big bouquet of creamy white Dahlia’s was in the middle. There was a china cabinet on the left wall. The wall on the right had a long painting depicting three very colorful birds, seemingly flying around each other with grace and elegance.
Across the room, I could see a bay window and, next to it, a small bar. Alejandro was standing there, pouring himself a whiskey.
“Do you want a glass?” he offered.
“No, thank you.”
“Please, take a seat.”
I kindly declined. I wanted to walk around, move my legs. I headed to the table to take a closer look at the flowers. I knew there were native of Mexico. I smiled as I caressed the petals. I was also fascinated by all the works of art in this room. I walked to one of the paintings to admire it more closely. It was beautiful, inspiring both freedom and happiness.
“You like this painting?” he whispered right behind me. I felt his breath down my neck and shivered as I held back mine.
“Yes,” I managed to answer. “Traditional papel amate paper. I love seeing how colors come alive on such a unique canvas.”
“How do you know this?”
“I am not as uncultured as you seem to think I am,” I said, turning around.
I hadn’t realized how close he was standing. I was now facing him, looking into those deep-brown orbs. They almost seemed sad.
My breast lightly rubbed against his chest. We stood there for what seemed like an eternity. I was breathing in every inch of him, a bit startled by my treacherous body’s reaction. His smell was so masculine, a mix of tobacco, a bit of bergamot, a trail of lavender, and a touch of sandalwood.
This man was a god walking amongst mortals, and as much as I wanted to be indifferent, I still found myself breathing rapidly.
But he was my keeper, his savage beauty only contributing to the sense of danger I felt every time I looked at him. I was keenly aware of my situation. I was in his hands, at his whim.
He made sure to remind me, with this invitation, this pretending that I was a guest and not a prisoner. He was taunting me for some reason, standing way too close to me, but two could play that game. The reality was that it was in my best interest to be pleasant. My survival depended on it—however disgusting it might be.
He cleared his throat. “I, uh…I wanted to apologize for my behavior last time.” He sighed.