Page 26 of Game of Revenge
“I remember some things—a smell, a laugh, a song she used to sing me to sleep. She used to call me her little Mariposa,” I said, my tone softening, my eyes distant, my mind taking me back to playing in a garden with my mom. I swallowed the tears.
“Sometimes I try really, really hard to see her face in my head, but it’s a bit…blurry. I don’t have even one picture. Richard never let me keep one. But when I think of her, when I remember some of the time I had with her, I can feel how much she loved me.”
I straightened myself, swallowing the lump that was forming in my throat and the feeling of emptiness I sometimes felt at the injustice of life taking my mother away from me all too soon. I quickly wiped away a tear that escaped.
“But Martha was like a mother to me. And when Martha was too busy, I spent my time reading. I really miss it.”
“What’s your favorite book?” he asked, leaning in toward me, wiping another tear from my face.
His tenderness warmed my heart, and I was thankful that he let me change the topic.
“Hmm, if I am forced to pick one, it would be The Count of Monte Cristo.”
“Really?” He paused, seemingly pensive. “Interesting choice, but then again, I’m not very surprised.”
“And why is that?”
He looked at me, head bent—as a slow, sensual, devilish smile drew on his lips.
“Come,” he said as he got up, offering me his hand.
I hesitated, but I couldn’t resist the urge to touch him again. Alejandro took me in his office and headed to the room in the back. I was in awe. The room was a small, cozy library. There must have been thousands of books in there. There was a small window and a nook there with a bar cart.
“You are not the only one who likes to read,” he explained. “How else is one supposed to dream, learn, or grow if one is not curious about the world, about the nature of human beings?”
“Agreed.” I smiled. “This room is…perfect.”
“Well, as long as I am home, Dolores can bring you here whenever you want, and you can borrow whichever books you want to read.”
“Thank you!” I said, turning around and hugging him. I immediately realized what I had done, but before I could get away, his arms were around my waist. He was staring at me, holding me close, breathing me in.
I felt myself getting lost in his gaze, inebriated by his smell. But I was still hurt by everything that had transpired between us over the last couple of days. I looked down and pushed him back a bit. He looked hesitant. To my surprise, he let me go and walked to the bar cart, serving himself a drink.
I turned and started reviewing the books to distract myself. I grabbed three of them to take to my room later. Holding the books in my hands created an excitement within me. The smell of a book to a reader was equivalent to the greatest high.
There was nothing better than disconnecting from reality and losing oneself in a good book for hours on end. It was Chloe’s and my favorite hobby. We sat together countless times, reading or discussing books in our book club.
Alejandro clearly believed the same. He was walking me through his collection, telling me about the ones he had read. I was fascinated. I didn’t picture him to be a book reader.
We shared our favorite books and stories until we heard some noise in the office. Dolores had entered and was cleaning up. I got a bit startled, realizing that we had been lost in book talk for hours. The last thing I needed was yet something else to bond over with my kidnapper.
“I think I should go,” I said. “But thank you for the books,” I added before I went to join Dolores, avoiding the urge to look back.
When I got to my room, I changed, got comfortable in my bed, and grabbed a book. I needed to disconnect and think about something else and travel away through fiction.
I spent most of the next day on my balcony, reading. I had picked a fantasy story that was doing a great job distracting me from my thoughts. But in between chapters, the unanswered questions were starting to overwhelm me. I couldn’t believe that my stepfather would leave me in the hands of strangers for so long.
And George…was he devastated? I felt a pinch of guilt every time I remembered George. I didn’t think of him that much. What did this mean? For him? For us?
The fact that I lusted after the man who kidnapped me must mean something. Was I technically cheating on George?
I had good times with George, but nothing compared to the rush I felt when Alejandro was around me. I must just be confused, I told myself. George was a nice man and treated me well. What else could a girl want? Love? Love wasn’t really a thing, as far as I was concerned; my stepfather had taught me that. Marriage was still desirable, but for comfort, convenience, and company. I had never felt any special attachment to any man, including George.
But with Alejandro, I was losing my usual rational and controlled approach to relationships. Of course, I couldn’t trust myself right now. I was locked in a beautiful bedroom for days, held captive by the only man I had interacted with in weeks, away from Martha, away from my friends, my favorite coffee spot, my gym, and what was a promising career.
I closed my eyes to try to stop the rush of desire coursing through me as my lips remembered the feeling of his. I decided it was time to do some exercise. It had been too long. And then I’d take a shower with the coldest water my body could handle.
Chapter 11