Page 19 of Game of Revenge
I obediently followed but quickly realized that Dolores was heading in a different direction.
I gave her an inquisitive gaze, but Dolores just kept smiling. Instead of heading to the back of the kitchen where my room was, she was taking me through the rest of the house. We got to the foyer where a big, thick, hand-carved mahogany table carried an amazing centerpiece with the most beautiful wildflowers I had ever seen, but there wasn’t much time to observe as I followed Dolores up the wooden staircase. Where was she taking me?
We walked through the warmly lit, light-taupe-colored hall until Dolores opened a wooden door and gently pushed me inside. I held in a gasp as I walked into a dream bedroom. It looked like it was taken straight from the 20th century and upgraded to meet the comfort of the current time.
The room had a king-size bed on what looked like a cherry-wood bed frame, a gorgeous oatmeal-colored ottoman, a chaise by a gigantic glass door that was currently opened to a small balcony. There was an amazing glass chandelier providing a lot of the light in the room.
My gaze trailed on an exquisite reclaimed-wood vanity on the other side of the room as well as a full-size mirror. There was a door leading to a bathroom, as well as a decently sized walk-in closet. I couldn’t believe it.
“This is your bedroom now, miss,” said Dolores with an even wider grin, her eyes shining as she saw the excitement on my face. “El patron’s orders. I already moved your clothes into the closet for you.”
“Thank you, Dolores!” I said almost in tears.
I would now have my own bathroom and, more importantly, an amazing amount of natural light. Who knew that having light and my own bathroom would cause me to be emotional? Sometimes it's the little things we take for granted that get to us when we no longer have them.
I walked to the gorgeous bouquet of pink and red Dahlia’s on the nightstand.
“These are so beautiful!”
“From don Alejandro” she said, a small smile on her face. I didn’t know what to think of this gesture.
Dolores stepped out of the room. I wiped the tears off my face. A window! I went straight to the small balcony where there was a table and two chairs on which I could sit. My view was of a beautiful yard. I could see a big pool and a gorgeous stone-paved patio. The sun was out, droplets of water from the rain the night before shining as the heat evaporated them. I could still smell the rain on the wet grass, the slight scent of eucalyptus creating a Zen atmosphere.
Perhaps some fresh air was all I needed to bring some sense of reality back into my head so I could stop the tingling sensation that coursed through my body every time I was in the same room as Alejandro.
I could see a bit of how far the property went as the huge backyard was surrounded by thick and tall trees. I could see the tops of other mountains a little bit past it. I closed my eyes, enjoying the sound of the birds and the heat bringing some calm back to me. I looked down, trying to gauge how far up I was. I wouldn’t be able to climb down this balcony; it was a bit too high for that.
I hated Alejandro for keeping me captive and making me experience sensations I had never felt before, even with George, but I was very thankful for the new prison. I was a prisoner in the middle of paradise.
Chapter 7
I hadn’t seen Alejandro in three days. Dolores would set meals on the balcony for me and come for the trays later. I was dying to ask about Alejandro, but I was too prideful to do so. I had spent my days pacing, twisting my fingers, wondering how life was back in LA right now.
How was everyone doing without me there? Was my stepfather worried? Was he looking for me? How was George? Iris, Chloe, Keisha, and Martha were the people I was the most worried about, the people I knew really did love me and would be worried sick about me.
I didn’t know whether my abduction was a secret or a known fact at this point. I desperately wished I could hug them, let Martha braid my hair as she used to when I was little, and play in the doll house for hours with Iris.
I sat by the window, reminiscing about the life I should have been living. I would have been in New York by now, starting a new chapter, starting the career I had always wanted. Solitude had forced me to take a look in the mirror and re-evaluate the life I might lead if I ever got out of this house alive.
I also had a lot of time to reflect about my relationship with George. The arguments I had been trying to convince myself of—that marrying him was the best decision and the path of least resistance—were starting to waver. I was starting to realize how precious life was, and with that came doubts about spending any more of my life with a man I felt a passive level of affection for.
I wondered if Alejandro had asked Richard for ransom. I still couldn’t comprehend what the motive was otherwise. Maybe Alejandro was going bankrupt? Maybe this wasn’t even his property? Who knew.
I wondered if I would ever get to go home again. Sheer fear took over me at the idea of never being able to go back to my life again, to the job I had worked so hard to get, to the life I couldn’t wait to start, independent, away from my stepfather for good. When those thoughts crossed my mind, I finally reached my breaking point. The flood gates opened, and a scream rose up from within me that probably alerted everyone in the house. But no one seemed to care.
When I finally saw Dolores later that day, she never mentioned anything, just silently cleaned. But then again, for however sweet and warm Dolores was, for as much as she reminded me of Martha, she was still part of a team that obeyed Alejandro to the letter, including in the crime of taking my freedom away.
Eventually, on day four, as Dolores was bringing me afternoon tea, I tried to inquire further in a more diplomatic fashion.
“I can’t thank you enough for taking such good care of me, Dolores.”
“Es un placer, señorita.”
“How long have you worked for Alejandro?”
“For at least eight years,” she said, “but I have known him since he was a wild little boy, running around, playing futbol around our neighborhood. When he made himself, he took me and my family in, paid for my son’s college degree. I insisted on staying here with him, working for him and his mother, in the only thing I love to do—cook.”
“Do you also bring him tea every afternoon?”