Page 20 of Game of Revenge

“I do,” she said, “but not lately. He travels to California a lot for his business. He hasn’t been here for three days, if that is what you are asking,” said Dolores with a smile. I smiled back.

Dolores seemed to be creating some sort of story in her mind about why I was asking. I, on the other hand, knew that my only interest was wanting to investigate what was next for me.

“He should be back this evening,” said Dolores, patting my shoulder before she left me alone with my thoughts.

It was important that I make an effort to be nice to Alejandro going forward. I needed to earn his trust. It was the only way I would be able to perhaps make him tell me what this really was all about, as I still couldn’t understand why he had abducted me in the first place, and that drove me mad. He seemed to have it all. He had some sort of business in California and was successful enough to own a mansion.

Even if all of it was through illegal means, why continue? This couldn’t just be about money. Also, I couldn’t understand why Richard hadn’t paid anything yet—at least as far as I knew. I assumed he would pay to avoid any gossip, but now I didn’t know what to believe. Had I been in captivity too long? What was a “normal” time to wait before kidnappers started cutting limbs, raping, beating? No, no, I couldn’t think of that. I couldn’t let fear take possession of my sanity any further.

Chapter 8

The next day, I was all ready for breakfast, waiting impatiently for Dolores to come get me to join Alejandro as she had told me she would. I had to hide my disappointment when Dolores brought breakfast to my room instead. The same thing happened for lunch. Now I was mad, mostly at myself for wanting to see him—for missing him? What was wrong with me?! I needed a hobby, something to do.

I could not continue spending my days waiting for some man’s attention, even if that same man held my fate in his hands. Clearly, he wasn’t really in a rush to get rid of me. And that was fine, as that would keep me alive, give me another chance. Until I saw him, though, I was stuck in limbo, unsuccessfully trying to get Dolores to talk, wavering between daydreaming about my life and being paralyzed with fear.

When it came time for dinner, Dolores came in and told me I was expected in the dining room. My body warred between excitedness and anxiety at the thought of seeing Alejandro.

I picked an embroidered, flowing white dress for the evening that stopped at my knees. The cut in the back was fairly low and flattering. I let my hair fall completely down my back. I had straightened it and curled the ends with the blow dryer and straightening tools I had found in the bathroom, courtesy of Dolores. She had even provided me with some foundation, blush, and some mascara, which was all I needed to amplify my features.

It felt almost twisted to be putting on makeup to have dinner with the man who abducted me, changing my life forever—and probably for the worse. But going through the ritual of getting ready also gave me a feeling of normalcy in a way, a touch of my life back, memories of me and the girls eating popcorn in my college room, watching hundreds of makeup tutorials on YouTube to learn how to actually do our makeup and not look like clowns afterward.

Dolores finally returned, but instead of taking me to the dining room, she took me to the office patio.

There he was, standing outside, breathing in the fresh breeze the night provided, his presence somehow thickening the air around him. My heart skipped a beat when he turned around and looked at me. He was wearing a dark-gray suit and a white shirt with the first two buttons undone. He remained silent for a few seconds, his gaze seemingly taking in every inch of me.

“Do you want something to drink?” he offered.

“A glass of wine if possible.”

Always such a gentleman, I thought. The kidnapper gentleman.

He poured some wine from a label-less bottle into two wine glasses and handed me one. Was he trying to poison me? Where was the label on the bottle? I made an effort to calm down after I saw him take a sip of the glass he had poured for himself.

“I see the food is already set on the table.”

“I wanted us to have no interruptions tonight,” he explained.

I focused on the wine in an attempt to hide my nervousness. I smiled when I noticed the beautiful bouquet of white and red Dahlia’s on the table.

“This is delicious,” I said as we sat down to eat. “I generally prefer a malbec, but this merlot is perfect for tonight. It’s a merlot, right?” I asked, savoring the feeling of the red wine teasing my taste buds.

“You know about wine?” He raised an intrigued brow.

“I wouldn’t go that far, but I’m a great wine consumer,” I teased, smiling.

“Are you now?” he asked in a low guttural tone, bending his head.

He looked at me with eagerness in his eyes. Just one look from those deep, dark eyes made me feel naked. I was trying my best to control my breathing. I had to keep my cool, and I had to remain charming.

“Are you a fan of California wines?”

“Not generally,” I admitted. “I tend to prefer Argentinian wines, as well as some European ones generally, but there is a vineyard in California called Robledo Estates. They are not as big as the usual labels, but their wine is not cheap. I don’t know how they managed to make European-style wines in California land, but it’s perfection. They also don’t add sulfites and the other usual offenders that other American vineyards tend to add, which is great.”

Was I sharing too much? I wondered. I didn’t need this man knowing more about me than he already did. But at the same time, sharing is how people bonded, and I needed him to think we were getting along. I had no choice there. And the truth was that I was enjoying it. Perhaps it was the lack of human interaction making me want to talk so much to my enemy.

I saw him bite his lip. Desire ran through me at the speed of light, taking me by surprise. He suddenly got up and went into his office, stopping at a record player he had by the window and putting some music on. The sound of the melody traveled through the room and outside to my ears. It was a sensual song by Luis Miguel, one of my favorite singers. Alejandro walked to me and asked for my hand. I hesitated.

This didn’t seem like a good idea.