Page 22 of Game of Revenge
“No. Richard never wanted me to. And when I became older…I don’t know, I just never did. I was afraid of what I would find here. I finally got to a place in my life where I felt like the US was home. I felt like I had finally started to integrate, to be at peace with the fact that I didn’t really remember a lot of that life I had been forced to leave behind. I was afraid that coming here would, I don’t know, cause an uproar in me, bring me back to those days when I felt empty, like I had left my soul behind.”
I swallowed when I heard my voice quiver a bit. I looked up into his eyes, afraid of what I would find. But there was no judgment there, just an understanding, a recognition.
“I get it. I was older when I left. But my mother still lived here. My uncle and I came back here every summer. I felt like I was happy in the US, but something was missing when I was there. But the same happens here, frankly. I find that different parts of me get something from each place.”
“It's a citizen-of-the-world problem, I guess,” I joked. “We don’t belong fully anywhere, but we get something from different places—or you do, anyway.”
“You shouldn’t be afraid to visit,” he encouraged. “Yes, you will likely feel something that might shake you to your core, but if you still have that ache in you, that bit of emptiness, it might be worth exploring. You are stronger than you give yourself credit for, Amelia.”
I felt my eyes well up, and I batted my eyelids to stop the tears from falling. I knew he was right. I had always thought that deep inside me, but I just never found the courage to come back. I wondered how much I would remember and how much that would affect me.
I was afraid that I would feel my mother’s absence a lot stronger if I went back to my roots. I was afraid that the peace, the happiness, and the sense of belonging I had worked so hard to get would crumble if the parts of me I had ignored found that thirst for home, for fitting. And this man, my kidnapper, was bringing it all out, on my skin, in the open.
I tucked my head into his neck, unable to resist the urge to feel his naked skin against mine. Yes, this was all part of the plan, but it didn’t mean I couldn’t enjoy the process just a bit, a safe amount, as long as I was in control. That conversation unleashed something inside of me, something I desperately needed to put back in the box where it belonged.
Alejandro gently grabbed my face with his hand, turning my head toward his. My parted lips were trembling in sweet anguish as I lifted my head further, those eyes showing me how futile my resolutions were. I closed my eyes when his lips touched mine.
It was a passionate yet gentle kiss. I heard him groan under his breath as my tongue slipped between his lips, hungry for him. I put my hands on his back, enjoying the thrill of feeling his muscles contract, and he drove me further into his embrace. He left my lips, and as I was about to beg for more, Alejandro kissed my jaw and made his way down, kissing my collarbone. I moaned as I was clinging to him, looking for support, pulling him closer.
He pulled away from me so brusquely I had to hold the chair next to me for support. My legs were weak, so I quickly sat down.
“Who is it?” I heard him ask.
“Dolores, señor.” I hadn’t even heard the knock on the door.
He quickly ran frustrated fingers through his hair and fixed his shirt. I grabbed a glass of wine to drink it, trying to control my senses, hide my heated cheeks, and calm myself down.
“Perdon, señor,” said Dolores when she entered. “Puedo hablar con usted un momentito?”
A look of concern crossed Alejandro’s face as he walked into the other room to talk to Dolores. I was doing my best to try to listen in, but they were both very careful. I could hear their voices, but I couldn’t understand anything that was being said.
Alejandro walked back to my side, his hands in his pockets, his composure fully recovered, as if nothing had happened between us earlier. He looked angry, almost concerned.
“It's time for you to go back to your room,” he said, looking at me with distant, cold eyes.
“But—”
“This is not up for discussion,” he interrupted before I could finish.
Anger gave me all the strength I was lacking as I got up to face him. He was staring at me with cold eyes, his face devoid of the passion I had seen just a few minutes before.
“Who do you think you are?!” I yelled as I hit him on his chest with the sides of my fists. “How dare you treat me like this!”
He held both my wrists tight. “I don’t have time for your tantrums, Amelia. I am now done with you, and you are dismissed. I won't ask you twice,” he warned.
I felt tears of frustration rising to my eyes. I pulled myself away from him and went to find Dolores. We walked to my room in silence.
As soon as I heard the door lock behind me, I dropped myself on the bed and let out all my frustration on my pillow. I had never felt such a strong hatred for someone before. My feelings were raw, as someone I shouldn’t even be interacting with, someone I despised with all my being, had once again trampled my pride and my self-esteem.
I was sure of one thing: I had to regain control.
The night started with me wanting to get closer to him, being willing to seduce him if I had to, in a desperate attempt to stay alive, to find out why I had been abducted, to perhaps even negotiate my freedom or facilitate another potential escape, and ended with my body trembling under his touch. But when he kissed me, he made himself more of a threat than ever.
I somehow had allowed myself to think we had a connection, something so innate in common, that I felt like I was talking to someone who could fully understand me. His rejection also had a sting after I had opened up and shared so much with him. I was a proud woman, after all, but it shouldn’t feel that way. My life was at stake. I had to stay strong.
Chapter 9
I wasn’t in the mood to see anyone when Dolores came to get me for breakfast, but I made an effort. I paired some of the new jeans with a simple, soft black t-shirt. Thankfully, Dolores had also added a few bras to my clothing.