Chapter 11

After an early breakfast, I was eager to peruse Alejandro's collection. I still had two books in my room to finish, but I couldn't help myself. Thankfully, he was home, so Dolores was able to take me there around ten. He lifted his head as I walked in.

"Am I bothering you?"

"No. Already in need of more books?" He gave me a devastating smile, softening his features in a way that made my heart skip a beat.

"In need? No, but I want to explore—if that's okay."

"Of course."

I proceeded to go through his shelves, picking books and putting them back, a small pile accumulating in my hands. After an hour, I sat down on the chair in the corner and began to read. I managed to focus, even if I was aware that he was observing me. Once I got into the story, though, it got a little easier ignoring his presence just a few inches away from me.

We spent the day like that, talking every now and then, taking a break for a quick bite around lunch time. He even started teaching me how to play chess.

I really wanted to ask questions, but I figured I had time, and I didn't want to be sent back to my room too fast. I was enjoying a semblance of normal as we talked—as if I wasn't a prisoner, as if I was in his home by choice.

By the time dinner came, Alejandro removed himself for what he described as a work meeting, so I was obligated to go back to my room, a little disappointed to not be sharing a meal with him.

We had gotten into a nice routine since that day, with Alejandro working on his computer, stepping away every now and then to take calls, and me reading in the corner in his office.

Alejandro's office was now adorned with various shades of Dahlia's. I enjoyed it, but it was impossible to keep ignoring the uniqueness of the situation, with my life on hold while I built a rapport with the person who had taken it all away from me.

On the fourth day of this arrangement, my patience was growing short, so I dared to use our lunch break for a more serious conversation than what were our favorite cities in Europe.

"So, um, about our…situation. Well…really my situation. I know you don't want to give me any details, but you understand that I have questions."

"I don't know why you keep trying," he said, seeming more tired than angry.

Maybe I was wearing him down, I hoped. I decided to tread lightly, hoping that with all the time we had spent together, he would see me as a person who deserved to be treated as such.

"Because I have a whole life out there, out of this house. And while I don't understand and consider myself lucky that…nothing too bad has happened to me here…this is not normal."

He got up from his chair, turning to face the window, looking into the night.

"No. No, it"s not," he admitted.

I took a deep breath and continued.

"So? You won't even tell me what you and your people want from me or my family. Why am I here? Why are we eating together every day in a place where I am a prisoner?"

He turned around and took a few steps toward the desk, leaning against it.

"I am doing all I can to make you feel at home, Amelia, to make you feel safe and comfortable."

"I know. It's weird, but I see that. But this is not my home. This is YOUR home, and I barely know you. You want me to feel safe in a place guarded by I don't know how many armed men lurking around, who will probably shoot me if I step out of my allowed perimeter or something?" I paused, hoping for some answer, but he just stared at me, anger starting to twist his handsome features.

"You barely know me? Really?"

"I can"t keep doing this."

I got up and started pacing, agitation taking over, ignoring his question. No, he was right. I didn't barely know him. I felt like I had known him all my life. And that was terrifying.

"It"s been over a month since I"ve seen my family, my friends, my fiancé, people who care about me. What am I doing here, Alejandro? What kind of sick, twisted game is this?"

He clenched his teeth as I stared at him with my hands moving in all directions, my desperation for understanding taking over.

"So, you miss your fiancé now. Is that it?" His nostrils flared, but he stayed in place, his voice low and controlled yet making me shiver.

"I shouldn't be spending all this time with you here, Alejandro. Not when I am in a serious relationship with someone else." My guilt was taking over.

"This…" I said as I pointed around me and between us, "this is not my life."

"It's the best I can do right now. I can't give you back your freedom. Not yet."

"Why? What is it that you want? What are we waiting for?"

Alejandro shook his head and squeezed the bridge of his nose. He looked exhausted.

"I think this evening has ended," he concluded as he went back behind his desk.

He grabbed the phone and called the kitchen for Dolores. I could feel the burning sensation in my eyes as I blinked a few times to hold back my tears. There was nothing left to be said.

I had been around this man long enough to recognize the stance—the cold, controlled, iced version of him when he was done entertaining a conversation—in stark contrast to the man he showed when he had kissed me or when he let his guard down just a bit. I knew I had lost him for the rest of the night.