Page 87 of Isle of Seduction
There is no clock on the wall when I wake up, but it’s still dark outside. The headache throbbing behind my eyelids indicates that I haven’t slept long. I’m dehydrated and the effect of the drug Louis gave me has worn off completely.
I almost cry out when I sit up in the bed that smells all wrong, my shoulder lancing in agony. Just like I noticed last night, there’s nothing in this room. Not even a chair. No curtains frame the window, no nightstand on either side of the bed. Even if I wanted to hang myself, I wouldn’t be able to, and I know that’s on purpose. If I die, it will be when Louis has decided and not a second before.
Thinking of the man sends a thrill of dread down my spine. At least, he didn’t come in while I slept. I think.
I check my body. The clothes I’ve been wearing since yesterday are still where they’re supposed to. With a deep inhale, I let my hand drift under my panties and down to my core for signs of… I don’t want to think the word out into existence. If he used a condom and I was passed out, I’d never know for sure. I touch tentatively around my lips. No swollen tissue, irritated skin or unknown substance. Relief washes over me at finding myself seemingly untouched.
Louis locked the door before leaving the room, so there’s nothing for me to do but wait until he comes to check on me. The nightmare will start then. I’m not sure how long I’ll survive with nothing to do but follow my spiralling thoughts and the catastrophic scenarios my brain conjures.
The clicking sound of the latch is loud in the space and resonates across the empty room before Louis opens the door. I move my leg on each side of the bed, instinctively knowing I need to prepare to flee if shit hits the fan.
His massive frame occupies the entire threshold, giving his silhouette a heinous outline, but I play coy. I need to survive him. Now is not the time to be myself.
“Hi.” I keep my voice calm, in between too cheerful and too meek.
“My Giulia,” Louis breathes like me acknowledging him is the beginning of our love story, hearts in his eyes.
He comes to kneel in front of me, placing his torso between my thighs. His hand caresses my cheek, and a soft smile graces his features. The dark eyes and neatly cropped hair that accentuate a strong brow and thin lips do nothing for me anymore. I can’t remember a time they did.
“How did you sleep, baby?”
I’ve always hated the nickname. I meet his gaze head on and all I see in there is hunger. A crazed look of someone who’s been starved and is desperate to eat and holding onto sanity by a thread. My body shivers without my permission and Louis takes it as his sign to continue our conversation. He doesn’t want to know how I slept. He doesn’t care about how I feel.
“You’re shivering.” His hands rub my arms to create heat, but it’s useless. I won’t feel warm or whole until I’m back with Andrea. “Let’s get you warmed up. There’s nothing a warm bath can’t fix.”
He takes me to the bathroom on the other side of the corridor. This whole place is all wrong. The walls are painted the same colour as the thatched roof of my home. It smells exactly like the candles I like to leave burning when I’m inside. When I enter the bathroom, I see the candles, the same brand I use, lit up around the place.
Nausea crawls up my throat. I’d bet all I have that even the towels are the same brand. It makes me sick. Andrea has top notch security around the house. I know for certain Louis has never been inside nor too close, but I’m the one who buys that shit for the house, I’m the one who changed the decor to my liking. And it seems Louis has been observing my shopping habits very closely.
The clawfoot bath is full of warm water. The steam rises and fogs the mirror, so I don’t see what I look like when I step inside and undress. A small mercy.
I stop before my clothes can hit the floor around me.
“What are you doing?”
“Watching you, my Giulia. It’s been a long time. Getting reacquainted with your body brings me so much joy,” he says wistfully. Like this is his dream. And I’m sure it is. “I’ve been looking for you for so long. You coming back to me is a miracle.” I swallow over the vomit in my mouth and continue to move slowly. “Let me,” he demands when I struggle with removing my blood-crusted pink sweater.
I moan in pain when he moves me around and he clicks his tongue with impatience. When his steps retreat behind me, I let out a sigh of relief, but it’s short-lived. Louis is back with scissors in his hands.
“No, no, please, don’t.” I shake my head erratically.
“We have to remove it, and clean the wound a bit more. What the doctor did was enough to stave off the pain and close the wound, but we need to wash it. Let me take care of you, baby.” His lips find my brows and this time, I lock my muscles and repel the full body shudder that wants to take hold of me.
I need to remember the mission, the end goal.
But this pink sweater is one of the first items I bought with Andrea’s money that first day I was his wife. A memory that should be bitter but tastes so sweet.
It’s just a thing. It’s just a piece of clothing. I can do this.
I repeat the words in my head like a mantra.
The awareness of how much my training is lacking in situations of life and death hits me like a freight train. I might have been raised in the mafia, but I realise I’m barely above mafia princess status. I can box and steal and lie, but it was all for nothing when the boogeyman came to claim me.
My thoughts are dark as Louis cuts into the cloth and removes my bra. His fingers trail the sensitive sides of my breasts and my belly until he helps me out of my jeans and panties.
I want to crumble under the weight of his stare, but lying is all I have left to survive.
He notices the tears in my eyes and frowns. “Are you in pain?”