Chapter 10

I woke up feeling a little more at peace that morning. Putting my emotions on paper had seemed to be all the therapy I needed, or at least enough that I wouldn't lose it. I was pleased with myself, feeling like I had regained a bit of my sanity. Lying to Alejandro, telling him that our kisses meant nothing to me, had made me anxious, but now I knew I had done the right thing, and my pride was healing. My ridiculous confusion subsided, and my irrational attraction reduced.

When Dolores brought me lunch, she had a smile going from one ear to the other. She had brought a man with her, who was setting up a Bose stereo system on one of the nightstands. She dismissed him as soon as he was done, very excited to show me what looked like a new distraction.

"What's all this?"

"Gift from Don Alejandro!" she squealed.

I sighed. "I don't want anything from him."

"Please, it will do you well. You spend your days bored, and this will bring light to your days," she said. "Look, he even sent CDs with great music." Indeed, the man had put some CDs down next to the stereo before he left.

I wanted to insist that Dolores take it back, but she was right. I loved to listen to music. I could spend hours in a day just listening to songs and daydreaming. This would help keep me sane. When Dolores left the room, satisfied that I had given in, I grabbed the pile of CDs.

There was a note on one of them that read, Play track five.

Fingers shaking, I took the CD out of its case and put it in the player, skipping to track five. I recognized the song in the first second. It was the song, sung by Luis Miguel, to which he had taken me into his arms, moving me around so sweetly to the rhythm of the melody. I could feel my stomach warming up as I sat on the bed.

He wanted to remind me of that night—the night I would have given him anything, the night that had shaken me, made me ashamed to have wanted him. I got off the bed and angrily turned off the music. A slow smile appeared on my lips as I felt some happiness crawl its way back into my heart.

No, there was no point thinking about that night and fantasizing a different ending. The reality was that Alejandro was playing with me, enjoying torturing me, the way cats played with mice, the way I had intended to do with him. I was not going to give him that pleasure. I quickly changed the CD to a more palpable one, took my notepad and proceeded to write, the pressure of my pen on the paper offering me some solace.

When I woke up the next day, I was in a better mood. Waking up in this house had gotten a lot easier, the night before being specifically therapeutic. The power of music had taken over. I had fallen asleep listening to the melodies, and it helped me to stop thinking and reduced my anxiety.

I still couldn't get over the ‘gift' Alejandro sent over last night. Perhaps it was Dolores's idea, but considering the note telling me to play track five, I doubted it.

Under normal circumstances, this would have been a very sweet gesture. Perhaps, in this instance, it was his attempt to keep me distracted so that I was less of a thorn in his side.

Dolores had served me breakfast in my room again that day. She also replaced the flowers with a fresh bouquet of white Dahlia's. After I was done with my food, I took my glass of orange juice and headed to the balcony.

As I was opening the door, I heard a splash. Someone was using the pool. I peeked to see Alejandro swimming from one end to the other, his wet muscles glistening under the sun, his movements strong but measured. He was swimming with such precision, such graceful force, my mouth opened ever so slightly, and my breath started to accelerate. He was apparently a good swimmer—of course he was. I sighed. He turned around when he was done with his lap and looked up in my direction. I quickly took a step back, but when I saw a devilish smile slowly appear on his face, I knew he had seen me. He continued to swim, and I couldn't help but lean forward a bit to shamelessly get a better view.

As I was starting to allow myself to enjoy all the small currents that were starting to trickle down my body, Karina came to the pool, wearing a very revealing green bikini. She took a perfect dive into the pool and swam toward Alejandro. She put her arms around his neck and pulled him closer to her for a kiss. As her lips touched his, I felt my heart sink. But almost immediately, Alejandro reached out and untied her hands from his neck. He whispered something I was unable to hear, and he swam away from Karina, exiting the pool.

I took a step back so he wouldn't see me when he started to dry himself, but he looked up in my direction one more time and then walked away. I went to sit on the bed. That was a weird interaction, to say the least. Why would he push her away like that if Karina was his girlfriend? I felt a little bit of hope and happiness take flame inside of me. It didn't make much sense, and I was dying to know what exactly was going on between those two.

It doesn't matter, I reminded myself. At best, it just meant that Alejandro was the kind of man who treated women as nothing and only used them for sex. I shouldn't see his rejection or mistreatment of another woman as a victory for me. Rather, it was probably an indication of Alejandro being one more jackass in the world. Karina wasn't a great person either, so my sympathies were limited, and I couldn't help somehow feeling vindicated as I remembered how hard Karina had hit me.

In the evening, Dolores came to tell me that I was expected for dinner. I did my best to suppress the frustrating rush of happiness I felt. It was not the time to act like a giddy teenager. I had not forgotten about my mission: find out why I had been kidnapped and was still in captivity. See if I could touch the heart of my captor, and perhaps he would let me go.

I opted for a red crinkled dress with an elasticized waist, off-the-shoulder neckline, and short sleeves. The dress hung closely to my curves and stopped a few inches past my knees. I did my makeup and styled my full-bodied curly hair with the pearl hairpins Dolores had gifted me. As I was finalizing my lipstick, I heard a knock on the door. I turned around, and there he was, in my bedroom, looking at me with those dark eyes that made me feel my blood coursing through my veins a little faster. He was looking at me, dressed in a black pair of jeans and a light-gray shirt. His curly hair was left wild and free. He slowly walked toward me. I could only stand there, barely breathing, frozen, and unable to look away.

"You look beautiful," he said.

"Thank you." I could feel my cheeks warm up as I bit my lower lip, looking up at him from under my lashes. "Dolores has great taste."

"She does."

We just stood there, looking at each other. I tried to remind myself to be strong, but I was satisfied as the dress had the impact intended.

"You sent me flowers again" I stated, swallowing hard.

"I did. You like them?"

"Yes, thank you. They are gorgeous" I said with a small smile. His lips slightly parted.

"I assume you came to get me for dinner?"

"Uh, yes. Yes, I did," he said, taking a few steps backward. "Shall we?"

I walked past him, and we headed to the patio outside of his office. Dolores had already put the food on the table. On the menu was some green ceviche with homemade tortilla chips for an appetizer as well as some beef empanadas. For the main meal, Dolores had prepared some braised spare ribs with squash and corn.

With this menu, I was in heaven. Every bite was a food orgasm, and I could not get enough. It took me ten minutes to realize that Alejandro was slowly eating his food, seemingly distracted by my very strong appetite, smiling at every bite I took. Had I been moaning? I looked up with guilty eyes, and we both started laughing.

"It"s just so good," I explained between laughs.

"Dolores is a food genius."

"I told you we don"t eat Mexican food in my house. It"s not because I don"t want to. My stepfather just hates Mexican food and never allowed us to have a Mexican dish in the house, so whenever I get to eat authentic, delicious Mexican food, I just swallow it whole."

"Why?" inquired Alejandro, frowning.

"I'm not really sure, to be honest. Like I told you before, we left Mexico when I was young, and he's never wanted to take me back since—or let me go, for that matter. He refused to let me speak Spanish in the house, even though it's my first language, and any mention of Mexico was strictly forbidden. I had to learn English very fast to not anger him. My nanny was the one who helped me continue to practice my Spanish, thankfully, and since Richard was rarely home, she made me the most wonderful meals."

"I'm sorry about your mother—and your stepfather." He looked very pensive and a bit confused.

"What?"

"It doesn't sound like you like your stepfather very much."

I had made the mistake of hinting at that before, and here I was again, sharing more than I should. I had been afraid to voice that out loud since I was still not sure why I had been abducted. Admitting that Richard and I had a bad relationship might put my life in danger even further.

"It's complicated," I said, straightening myself up. "As it is with most father-daughter relationships." I returned to my food, hoping that Alejandro couldn't tell that I was lying to him.

"I see." He paused. "Must have been hard growing up without your mother."

"It was."

"How young were you when she died?"

I swallowed. "I was four."

Talking about my mother used to be my favorite thing to do when I was younger, almost like I was afraid I would forget her if I didn't. But eventually, it just hurt too much. The ache from the absence of the woman who had given me life got deeper and deeper, to the point that I had found myself crying every day.

So, I forced myself to stop thinking about her, stopped bringing her back with my memories for a while, as much as I could. That had brought me some peace over the years, to get to a point that I did allow myself the memories every now and then.

Since my kidnapping, though, thoughts of my mother kept creeping in, making me wonder how different my life would have been if my mother had stayed alive. How different things would have been to have had the love of the woman who gave me life.

"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.